Belle and Will rounded that bend in the forest path first, and at last they could see the summit of their climb. There was a light dusting of snow on the ground at this elevation. They had already spied the castle, situated another hour's hike away in a high river valley. The setting was spectacular: a shimmering blue and grey stone confection of a castle, with turrets and flags at every corner, built towards a wondrous tower at the centre, with a round balcony from which Arthur could see enemies approach from any direction. It was simultaneously stunning and a monument to paranoia.
They all stopped to look at the castle from their position above it. The loveliness of the design belied the heavy fortifications. Camelot hid its anxiety well, but David could see the ranks of guards and the soldiers, the archers, the knights. It was unlikely they could break in, he thought.
"Well, this'll be no problem," Will assessed the situation confidently.
David balked. "How are you planning to get in there? There must be 10 guards for every person living in the town!"
"Yeah, but they're all looking for an attack, and we're not going to attack. We're going to wander in individually, all cosy and calm, with goods to sell. And we'll find the kitchens and the guards' quarters and we'll ask some innocent questions. Then we'll walk back out and see if between us, we've found Mairead."
Snow looked impressed. They all marched on, glad of a plan of action.
Down in the valley, the market stalls pushed together, cart to cart, in Camelot's wide town square, just in front of the gates to the magnificent castle. Will took Snow's arm in his and hooked a stolen basket of oranges over her other arm. He was suddenly carrying a matching basket of apples.
"The queen and I are going for a little walk in the castle," he announced. "You two," he looked at Belle and David, "talk to the locals and figure out what you can."
"You are not taking my wife in there without me," David stepped forward threateningly.
"Yes, he is, David," Snow interrupted. "He and I are thieves, and we're best suited to the task. You and Belle stay out here and charm information out of the townfolk."
Snow and Will walked straight past the guards on the castle gate. All sorts of merchants were wandering in and out with baskets of goods; no one took any notice of them. Once inside they found a young servant girl and asked the way to Mairead, as they had fruit she had ordered. The girl didn't even glance at them, pointing down a long corridor to the rear of the castle.
They found Mairead's room easily enough. She wasn't locked away, but wandering freely through in and out of her rooms. Mairead had light brown hair, tucked up in a sensible bun, and did not look nearly old enough to be the aunt of a centuries-old pirate. Time really did work differently in Camelot. She looked perhaps 60, no more. She looked at them with her deep brown eyes, gazing critically at their ill-fitting, stolen clothes.
"Strangers," she said. "Do come in, and shut the door behind you. We wouldn't want to the guards hearing whatever you're about to tell me."
Snow sat in a chair facing Mairead , while Will hung back by the door and then crossed to check the window for alternate escape routes. "We don't have much time," Snow rushed in. "I'm looking for my daughter and her boyfriend. I believe Arthur pulled them through a portal, possibly to Camelot. I think he means to harm them."
"Arthur harms a great many people," Mairead said coolly. "Who is your daughter?"
"Emma Swan," Snow said. When Mairead just shook her head in non-recognition, Snow added, "And her boyfriend is Killian Jones."
Mairead reached forward and gripped Snow's hands hard. "Killian Jones. How… tell me about him. How is it possible he might still be alive?"
"Killian's a bit of a survivor, innit?" smirked Will. "He must be a couple hundred years old by now… all that time in Neverland."
"Neverland… is it like Camelot? Does time move differently there?" Mairead asked, confused.
"Killian doesn't look much over thirty years, by Enchanted Forest standards. You lived there, didn't you, in the Enchanted Forest?"
"Oh, yes, long ago. My friend Orla and I, we married sailors from a little port town in the Enchanted Forest. Orla, she wanted to escape Camelot, and when the Jones brothers came along, we both jumped. She needed away from Arthur," Mairead shook her head. "Not that he let her go anyway. He kept pulling her back, no matter what Orla wanted."
Snow held her breath. Will waded in, no time for delicacy. "Pulled her back? Whaddya mean to say, he had her against her will?"
"Despite her husband and the distance, Arthur kept coming after her. He had Guinevere, but at that time she had eyes for Lancelot. Arthur wanted Orla. And he had her. Two of her children, Kerry and Killian, they were Arthur's." Mairead shuddered. "Come with me." She was on her feet in a moment, pulling at Will and Snow to follow her out the chamber door and down the corridor. They emerged in a grand hall, with a painstakingly carved, heavy, round wooden table at the centre. The walls were lined with large portraits of kings and queens. Mairead pulled them to the final portraits on the wall.
"Guinevere," she pointed to a fine-boned, stunning woman in red, "and Arthur."
Snow and Will stepped right up the painting. Dark hair, flashing blue eyes, the dark beard… there was certainly a resemblance to Killian. Will whistled, "Yeah, that could be Daddy."
Snow continued to look critically at the painting. "Well, dark hair and blue eyes. They do look similar."
Mairead shook her head. "Arthur was convinced. He killed the first child, a girl. The second, a boy, looked nothing like Arthur, so he left the boy alone. When Orla fell pregnant with her third child, Arthur used Merlin to divine it would be a boy. He threatened to kill her other son, Liam, and her husband unless Orla came back to Camelot, had the baby and handed him over to Arthur. She came back, but Jones came after her, hid her, and then ran off with she and the baby and Liam."
Mairead started to cry. "I looked everywhere for those boys. I never found them."
Will suddenly grabbed Snow's hand. "Boots," he hissed. "Guards. We need to go." Will pulled Snow away from Mairead, towards a back exit he had scouted earlier. They left Mairead crying in the hall, jumping out a window and into the market square below, and running for safety in the crowd.
…
Killian, Mac and Fergus stopped their horses 100 metres downwind of the camp and crept carefully into a secluded position. They could see 12 men sitting around 3 fires.
"I don't know that Arthur will make it in time. He was waiting for them at Snow and Charming's castle, thinking the princess would return to her parents' home. Percival sent word they were riding hard for this town, though."
The Jones men kept silent and still, listening in.
"Do we attack without him? The announcement is tomorrow, but the whole town already knows the news."
"Not much point in bolting that stall now the horse has fled," said another. "He'll just want them both dead now. I don't see why it has to be tomorrow."
"The whole town is on high alert at the moment. It would be easier to sneak in few days later."
Arthur's men fell silent for a moment. Killian and Mac had heard enough. The three drew their swords and spread themselves silently around the back of the encampment. Mac and Fergus took out the two men on watch without making a sound. Killian brought his borrowed broadsword cleanly across the neck of a man sleeping nearly in the tree line. The neck severed with no noise. The blade was heavier than his own cutlass, but it cut through bone more effectively.
They advanced into the camp, taking down another three with lethal force before they were spotted. Arthur's men scrambled for their weapons, but their surprise and confusion gave the Jones men the chance they needed. Fergus took a blow to the head, and Killian a dagger across his arm, but they cut down the six men without mercy. All three of them were covered in blood, some of it their own. Killian shrugged off his jacket for a closer look at his arm.
Mac grimaced a bit at the sight of the deep wound and ripped up a bit of his own shirt to bind it.
"Had worse," Killian gritted his teeth. "Let's get back to the house and get Fergus' head seen to."
They didn't bother much with silence on this ride, drinking and talking loudly as they rode back through the mews at the side of the house. Brothers and sisters met them, taking hold of the horses and rushing with bandages and hot water. Killian half-fell, half-dismounted, unsteady with whiskey and blood loss. Fergus had completely passed out and had to be carried off his horse. Oona flew from the back door of the house into the courtyard, pressing Mac into her. She stepped back from his kiss with the blood of his enemies imprinted on her white dress.
Emma rushed out behind her. Killian gave her a wobbly grin, drunken and pained. She pulled him into the kitchen where she could assess him in the light by the roaring fire in the kitchen hearth.
"Right arm," he grunted. She pulled off his jacket and looked him over, hissing as she saw the blood still flowing down his arm. "Can you kiss me and make it better, love?" he tried to grin at her.
Emma cocked an eyebrow at him. "I can make it better, and maybe if you're very good to me later, I'll kiss you," she answered. She held her hands over the wound and a soft glow made the cut fade into nothingness. The blood remained soaked into his shirt.
She took the bottle of whiskey out of left hand and replaced it with a mug of water. "You've lost a lot of blood. Drink water now you don't need the whiskey for the pain."
He pulled her into his lap. She was wearing a simple white nightgown, and much as Oona's dress had done, the cotton soaked up the blood. She carded her fingers through his hair and brought his mouth close.
"Are they dead?" she whispered.
"All twelve," he assured her, "but Arthur wasn't there. He's coming, riding hard for us."
Emma felt more of a thrill that he'd killed for her than she wanted to admit. She could not deny her attraction for Hook, and it was hard to deny that part of him when she was soaked through with his blood and that of the men he had just killed. For her. To keep her safe. To keep their child safe.
"Are you quite certain," he murmured against her lips, "that you don't want to kiss me?"
She crushed her lips against his and sought out his tongue with hers. His hands left flakes of dried blood through her hair as he tilted her head, giving his tongue greater access to her mouth. They kissed passionately, and Emma would have let him have her right there in the kitchen if Mac hadn't walked in, coughing pointedly to get their attention.
Killian rolled his eyes at his cousin. "We're busy here, mate."
Mac raised an eyebrow right back at him. "Well if you could spare Emma for a moment, Fergus needs some help. He's hurt pretty badly."
Emma smiled and stood up. Killian sucked in a breath when he saw the state of her nightgown. He knew what he must look like, but it was another thing to see the aftereffects of violence on her.
"Where's Fergus?" she asked Mac, then followed him back out to the courtyard. Killian stood in the doorway, watching as Emma knelt over Fergus and brought her hands near his head. The white light from her fingertips soaked into Fergus' skin, and he blinked and sat up slowly. All the brothers and sisters in the courtyard gasped. Killian felt his familiar pride in her almost making him glow, again.
"All better?" Emma asked, helping Fergus to his feet.
"All better, sister, thank you," Fergus said. He looked around at his brothers. "Now where's that bottle of whiskey your pirate boyfriend stole?"
…
The whole house woke up with yet another mass hangover, except for Emma. She supposed early knowledge of this baby meant she could start a healthy diet now, before she drank far too much with this family. She had forced Killian into a warm bath last night to wash off the worst of the blood, and joined him herself. Their bloody clothes were still in a pile by the doorway of the room where they'd left them in their rush to be naked together in the bathtub. He had massaged the dried remains of Arthur's thugs out of her hair, then brushed out her long, wet hair for her.
She opened the window a crack to let some of the cool morning air into the room, and she saw that the final preparations for the party were already underway. In a couple of hours, the town square would be thrown open to any and all who wanted to come. Her protection spell might keep out some thugs, but she doubted it would stop someone like Arthur, who had access to powerful magic. She wandered down to the kitchen and poured out two mugs of tea, intending to take one back to Killian.
The seamstress entered the kitchen just then, smiling when she found Emma.
"Just who I was searching for," she beamed. "I have that dress for you." She held up a shimmering, sea green, raw silk dress. It glowed in the firelight. Emma drew in a breath.
"Wow, that's amazing," she sighed.
"Try it on, lovely," the seamstress said. "I've still time to make any alterations before everyone is awake and about."
Emma stepped into an empty bedroom with the seamstress and the older woman helped her into a corset and then the dress. It fit perfectly, clinging just right to every curve.
"It's truly incredible, thank you," Emma gushed. She might not be all that into dresses, but even Emma had to admit this one was something particularly special, a simple style that brought out her bright eyes and hair. The seamstress left, to continue the final fittings of all she'd made for the sisters-in-law. Emma picked up the mugs of tea and made her way back to the bedroom. He woke as she set the mug down next to his side of the bed. And when he woke, he woke in the way he always did, instantly, taking in the whole room and any changes in it.
"Love, you are a vision," he smiled broadly.
"I am, aren't I?" she laughed, giving a little twirl. "The seamstress was in early to hand out gowns. What a bizarre life."
Killian pulled her back down to the bed, and in no time had her flipped, with her back in the covers and his hands exploring her body from above.
"How do you do that? No, wait, that's a story that's going to involve practice or experience or whatever and I've learned better than to ask," she grimaced.
Killian smiled knowingly. "Did you know that with a neckline like this one you can free a woman's breasts without undoing her corset?" he asked wolfishly.
"I did not," she answered. "And I don't want to know how you know that, either."
Killian was about to demonstrate when someone began knocking on their door.
"Emma, it's Oona," she called. "Can you come out?"
Emma smiled at her pirate, and kissed him. She picked herself up off the bed and straightened her skirts, then opened the door. "Coming," she said, slipping around the door and leaving Killian to dress in peace.
Evening fell faster than Emma could have imagined in a blur of food and cakes carried out to heaving tables in the square. There was a buzz of lamp-lighting and drinking. Strangers and those claiming vague family connections came up to Emma, kissing both of her cheeks and wishing her much happiness. Men clapped Killian on the back and offered him congratulations in a way that seemed more than a little lewd to Emma. The square was stuffed with people, far more than she'd seen at the market that first day.
Killian managed a dance or two with her, laughing and holding her close and twirling her around the cobblestones with her dress flashing out behind her. She forgot her fear for a moment in his arms, with the music trilling behind them and the lights above. The good will in the square felt powerful and secure.
Until it wasn't.
Killian and the Jones brothers all froze as one. They heard the hoof beats. Killian counted in his head. Dozens. He heard dozens. Mac was at his side in an instant, followed by the brothers, swords drawn and surrounding Killian and Emma.
"Arthur," Emma said simply. They thundered into the square in full armour, pushing the crowds aside at swordpoint and making a confident line for Killian and Emma. Arthur stopped when he saw Killian with Emma pushed behind him. He took off his helmet and gave his dark head a quick shake, looking down at Killian with almost violet-blue, icy eyes. Arthur didn't look much older than Killian himself.
"Ah, there's my boy," Arthur laughed harshly. "What a lovely reunion, after all these years. Good to see you, my son."
"Son?" Killian asked, for once shocked. "What the bloody hell are you talking about?"
"Your mother, well, she just couldn't keep those legs together when I was around," Arthur said, climbing down for his horse. He swaggered a bit towards Killian. Emma felt ill. She had a mental picture of Arthur with Killian's mother, and it didn't involve her parting her legs willingly. "Didn't you know, boy? I guess you didn't have much of a chance to get to know your dear parents. Sorry about that. But I never intended for you to be abandoned." He took another step closer. "I intended for you to be dead." Killian's jaw twitched but he held Emma steady behind him, his sword drawn on Arthur.
"And the Saviour," Arthur bowed to Emma mockingly, his eyes never leaving Killian. "What a shame that this little celebration means that you and that bastard you're carrying have to die, too."
"Ye can fuck yourself, Arthur," Emma heard the eldest brother-in-law say, "we'll kill you and your men if you don't leave here now."
"Oh, I'll go," he said flippantly. "It's just that first I need to do something." With that, an archer behind Arthur let an arrow fly. Killian knocked it aside with his sword. Suddenly, more arrows were loosed on them, and Arthur lunged forward. Killian blocked Arthur's attack, slicing and battling his way forward, keeping Arthur away from Emma. The clash of metal echoed through the square, alongside the screams of the brothers bringing the archers down from their horses. Emma looked around for a sword to defend herself. Oona threw Killian's cutlass to her. She swung around as Percival attacked. His swung his broadsword so hard that she could hardly hold him back. She pushed out with her magic and knocked him back, but another knight came at her in his place.
Mac crept behind Arthur and tripped him. The king fell onto the cobblestones. Killian didn't hesitate, bringing the broadsword down with both hands, taking Arthur's sword hand clean off. Arthur screamed. Then Killian pivoted to find Emma. He saw her fending off Percival who had regained his feet. Killian lunged for him, but Percival slipped his blade into Emma faster. Killian put his blade through Percival and kicked his body to the ground, only to see Emma falling back into Oona's arms, blood staining the front of her dress.
"Oh my God, Emma, no," he fell to his knees next to Emma.
"Did we get her, son? Did we? Ha! I'll keep you and your bastards off that throne forever," Arthur hissed loudly.
Killian ignored the fallen king and focussed only on Emma. The wound was deep and her eyes were starting to close.
"Emma, stay with me, I'm going to get you help," he promised.
Mac and Fergus came up behind him with a horse. "Get on, Killian. You need to get out of here. Arthur's ships are landing in the harbour."
Killian mounted the horse first, and Mac and Fergus lifted Emma up in front of him. He clung onto her with one arm. Oona appeared and pressed fresh dressings in his satchel. With tears in her eyes she kissed her hand and pressed it to Emma's cool cheek.
"Tell her I said good-bye," Oona whispered.
Killian nodded. Mac looked at Killian for a moment. "We'll take out as many as we can, and hold back the rest," Mac said, "but you two need to make it safe away. Can you escape?"
"I believe so. It depends on Emma," Killian answered in a rush. It was Mac's turn to nod, then he swatted the horse into action, and Killian galloped away out of town.
He held Emma tight to his chest as he spurred the horse up the path to the cliffs. She closed her eyes and pressed the side of her face into the cool leather of his coat. The jolting movement made her feel ill with fear and with the uneven motion. It seemed to take ages to arrive at the villa. Killian jumped down to the horse's left and helped her down after him. He gathered her in his arms without waiting to see if she could stand on her own. He kicked in the door with his boot and strode over the bed. When he set her down gently, sitting up against the headboard, he could see the blood seeping into the sea green silk of her gown. The colour of her eyes, a perfect match for the dress just hours before, seemed dull and fading. He felt his heart catch, but tamped down the heartrending rage and fear to concentrate of getting them out of here.
Killian quickly bolted shut the door. He could hear horses' hooves in the distance and knew that Arthur and his knights were following close-on.
"Swan, listen to me. We need to leave. We need to move this villa. I know where we're going. I have it in my head. So you concentrate, my love. You concentrate on me, and on your magic, and together we're going to get you to safety." He held the vial of fairy dust in one hand and willed himself not to shake. "Remember us in this villa the first time, darling? Remember how it was just us, for days, doing nothing but exploring each other and falling in love?" Killian took her hands in his, squeezing gently. "I thought I would never know a more perfect moment in all my life," he continued, "but every moment I have with you is just as precious. I need us to have many, many more, love." He could feel a warmth rising from Emma, as she sparked a bit of magic into his hands. He could see her struggling to find the strength. "That's a tough lass," he said. "God, I love you." He took his face in her hands and kissed her with all the passion and love and fear he had in him. With that he saw the familiar glow between them, and he emptied the contents of the vial over their heads. He heard the horses' hooves coming to a halt outside the door, and boots hitting the hard chalk ground of the clifftop.
On the other side of the door, Arthur hit the ground at a run, and he used his left hand to slid his sword out of its scabbard with a sickening grind of metal. He motioned to a knight to boot in the door. The knight's boot hit once, shaking the wooden door in its frame. The second blow splintered the bolt. He raised his leg to deliver the final blow, but by the time he kicked forward, the villa had disappeared. He and Arthur looked across the grassy clifftop, and it was as though the villa had never been there.