Before Guinevere could scream, Regina appeared at her side, passed her hand in front of the queen's throat, and took her voice. The queen darted her eyes to the door, then back to Killian, seemingly weighing the odds of escape.
"I think it's best if you listen for a moment," Regina whispered soothingly. "I will give you a chance to speak soon enough."
Mairead threw a soothing arm over Guinevere's shoulders, and pressed her lovingly down into a chair.
"No need to fret, dear," Mairead spoke calmly. "Killian's not here to harm you. But we do need your cooperation, willing or unwilling." Mairead flicked her eyes to Regina and Emma. "They can force cooperation if necessary."
Emma pulled a chair in front of Guinevere and sat down. She was instantly Sheriff Swan again, about to interrogate a hostile witness. "I don't want to harm you," Emma explained, coolly and confidently, in a tone that suggested she might harm Guinevere even so. "Your husband has been chasing Killian and I through two realms, trying to murder us. We have no quarrel with him. We had no knowledge of him until he came to our home and ripped us away from it."
Guinevere's eyes narrowed as Emma continued her story, telling her about all of Arthur's attacks, the attempted rape, the vigilantes, the blood in the apartment, the rush to save Henry and the murder of Jonathan. The queen's face was unreadable as she listened to the accusations. When Emma had finished, Regina stepped forward: "I'm going to restore your voice. If you scream or draw attention to yourself, I will take it again, and keep it."
Guinevere touched her throat as Regina reversed her spell. She glared at Emma. "Liar," she hissed, her voice gravelly and low as a side effect of the spell. "This pirate, this bastard son, he kills and steals and he wants Arthur dead. My husband is protecting his kingdom from his mistake."
Regina just raised an eyebrow. "Your husband had his knights kidnap Emma and try to cut the child from her belly," she offered.
Guinevere stared impassively at Emma. "So you've spawned another who will seek my husband's throne and kingdom. And I'm supposed to cry for you, because Arthur tried to secure our line?"
Emma stared at her incredulously. Snow had been holding back Killian in the shadows, keeping him well out of it. She knew his temper could snap more readily than Emma's and didn't trust him near Guinevere. But now Snow jumped forward, edging Emma out of Guinevere's line of sight.
"Killian and Emma sought nothing. They were living in Storybrooke, in the Land Without Magic, with no thought to this kingdom, when your husband stole them away from us. And he blocked their return, so Emma could not see her son. They can't go home," Snow explained in her most regal voice, the diplomat, the negotiator. The voice that makes you see sense, Regina thought.
But it didn't work on Guinevere. "I'm only sorry that he has failed. If he wants you dead, then so do I," she spat. "No matter what he has done or will do, I support him completely, and nothing you say will change that."
"He sent men to rape Emma," Killian said in a low voice that betrayed the murderous rage starting to bubble up from within. Snow inhaled sharply; she had not known that. "Then they stabbed her through the chest. She nearly died, along with our baby. Are you telling me this is justified, for no other reason than that your husband wishes it so?"
Guinevere looked at Killian as though he was a rodent caught in her pantry. "I do not question Arthur's motivation or his methods. If he wants your woman raped, and you dead, then I will find a guard to pin her down and run you through when he's finished."
Snow moved first, flying at Guinevere with her hand stretched out to slap her; Killian grabbed Snow's arms and secured them behind her back. He pulled her back into the shadows. Regina took hold of Emma and spun her around towards Killian and Snow, and in the same motion she snatched back Guinevere's voice. "Okay, that's enough questioning of the mad bitch-queen of Camelot. Clearly True Love also conquers reason and basic human empathy."
"No," Snow spat. "That is not love. No matter my love for David, I would never unquestioningly accept his decision to murder a pregnant woman, or have any woman raped." She shuddered. "I think I should know True Love, and this is not it. Either she is evil, or she's enchanted."
Emma was now helping Killian to keep Snow away from Guinevere. She looked at the queen hopelessly: "We have no idea what she was like in the past, so how can we tell?" Emma turned to Mairead. "Which do you think, Mairead? Evil or under a spell?"
"I can remember back when she fell in love with Lancelot," Mairead said. "She was not like this. She was strong and kind and free. I cannot imagine those words coming from her mouth."
Killian tilted his head to the side and regarded Guinevere. He remembered his conversation with Henry on the way to the library in New York. What makes a woman known for being good, for being independent, stay with a man like Arthur, Henry had asked.
"Blackmail or enchantment," Killian said to no one in particular. Then he spoke up: "I think Mairead has the right of it. Henry researched Guinevere extensively, and he couldn't figure out how the good woman he read about ended up with a scoundrel like Arthur, who was apparently bedding my mother all the while, and who knows how many others." Killian squatted in front of the queen, looking into her eyes. "I've seen plenty of people acting under duress, and she doesn't show any signs of it. I'd bet enchantment."
Regina nodded. "Okay, so we need to find out what Arthur used for this spell, then break it. Let's get her back to her chambers in the tower; we can defend it easily. We have the queen, so the guards won't want to attack without direct orders from Arthur."
Regina waved her hand and in a puff of purple smoke they were all transported inside Guinevere's rooms in the tower. Her enormous gilt bed glittered in the sun that entered through four balconied windows, all open to the air, a soft breeze blowing in past the diaphanous silk curtains. The bedding was embroidered in gold thread and the edges of the tables and chairs were studded in crystals. Every wooden surface was painted a vibrant pink. It looked to Emma like a very pretty prison, clearly arranged to keep Guinevere happy, but it seemed like Arthur's idea of what Guinevere might like: over-the-top, too sparkly, too impractical and too expensive to suit the woman Killian and Mairead had described.
"This actually hurts my eyes," Regina commented, turning away from an overstuffed chair in velvety pink fabric and silver threadwork.
"It's a bit Disney-princess even for me," Snow agreed.
Guinevere sat on her bed in a huff. She didn't have the emotions to cry; Arthur had taken all of those away. She barely reacted when Regina waved her hand and refurnished in stark black and white. "There," Regina smiled, "much better." Mairead's eyes widened at the modernist furniture.
"It just occurred to me that you were the target market for that disturbing white coffee table in my flat in New York," Killian laughed. "Should have saved it for you." He cast his eyes over the large room, looking for ways up to another room in the tower. "There's another room above us, possibly Arthur's space?"
"It hardly matters at the moment," Snow said. "You just need to get out there on the balcony overlooking the square, announce that you've taken the castle and the queen, and that Arthur's rule of terror is over. Then we wait for the king to have a tantrum and return. He seems to have taken all of his best forces with him."
Regina shrugged. "He relied on fear. I did much the same. You all managed to break into my castle – Killian did it more than once. I knew that very few would try, because they feared the consequences of being caught by the Evil Queen with no mercy." She looked at Snow, remembering her attempt to burn her step-daughter at the stake. "It worked."
Emma yawned, and Killian pulled her close. Regina sighed. "You best take Emma somewhere safe – don't tell us where in front of queenie here – for the night. Snow, Mairead and I will try to reverse whatever spell she's under. We need her back to her own self for this plan to work. If we have her on that balcony denouncing her husband, then the kingdom truly will fall."
Snow closed her eyes and hoped that David, Will, Bell and Henry had found some resistance to Arthur and could make it to the castle by morning. They couldn't keep this hostage situation going for longer, not even with Regina's magic.
Emma looked into Killian's eyes. "Thinking of somewhere nice?" she asked him. He nodded and smiled. "Will you take me there?" he asked. Emma put her hand over his heart, closed her eyes and broke into a grin. "Yes, of course, Captain." A moment later, they were standing in his quarters on the Jolly Roger, still rocking silently and invisibly in the bay off Camelot.
"I wanted another chance with you in here," Killian said sincerely.
"The new king of Camelot, and you want to sleep on this barely double bed and not in the castle you just conquered?" Emma giggled.
"I don't feel like we did much conquering today – more like walking in and redecorating a bit. Besides, I have no desire to be king of anything, and if this all goes to plan, I won't have to be," he said. Then about an octave lower: "And I think you'll very much enjoy that barely double bed. It means you can't get away from me in the night."
He removed her clothes one item at a time, pausing at each step to kiss and lick the skin he'd exposed. When she was standing before him in only her bra and knickers, Killian began a close inspection of her breasts. They overflowed her bra just slightly. He ran his fingers along the edge of the blue, satiny material. "You still going to argue with me about size?" he said. "I'm an expert on your breasts, love, and I assure that you need new bras. You're squashing the breasts that I adore."
Emma laughed. "Take it off then," she challenged him. He ran his hand slowly up her back, teasing little circles into her skin before finally reaching the clasp. He laid his tongue along the satin over her nipple, and felt it harden through the fabric. "They're more sensitive, too," he murmured. "No more biting, I think. Nibbling, perhaps." He snapped open the clasp and Emma let out a sigh of anticipation. He used his teeth to pull the bra away from her body and let it slip to the floor. He brought both thumbs to stroke across her nipples. Emma shivered.
"They are more sensitive," she admitted.
"Does this feel good?" he asked quietly, gently licking around the areola and massaging her full breasts.
"Yes, god, that feels so good." She gasped as he sucked one hardened nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue against the tender tip. "Killian, please… you can't tease me like this."
Killian trailed one hand down her side, rubbing over the soft skin of her abdomen and sinking beneath the elastic of her knickers. "Is anywhere else more sensitive, love?" he whispered into her breasts. "Because I want to fuck you while I suck on your nipples. I want to see if you come harder now."
Emma knew she was dripping. His fingers slipped south, but achingly slowly, still teasing at her carefully groomed mound, not yet tracking the wetness through her folds. Every nerve ending sparked up, waiting for his fingers. She slid her hands down her hips, tugging her knickers down past her thighs and finally coaxing them off completely.
"Killian, I can feel it dripping down my thighs. You have me so wet. Please please please touch me," she begged. He pressed his fingers into her folds, sliding expertly over her clit and leaving her gasping and writhing, still standing before him, parting her legs to ease his access. She tried to rub her clit into his hand, but he pressed a single finger into her, keeping his palm clear of her mound. He felt a few drops of her arousal in his hand.
"Oh, my love," he sighed, and he sank to his knees. He slipped both hands around to the backs of thighs, just under her bum, pulling them slightly further apart. He pressed his tongue flat against the inside of one thigh and scraped it up towards her centre; he could taste the tangy sweetness all along the inside of her upper thigh. Then he removed his tongue from her thigh and opened his mouth directly beneath her cunt. He slowly slid both thumbs up her thighs, picking up the wetness and directing it over her clit. Emma's core salivated for him; he was rewarded with a drizzling of her arousal across his waiting tongue.
"Emma, you taste divine, even better," he spoke in a tone so gravelly that she could barely make out the words. Emma sank her hands into his hair to hold herself steady. He pressed both thumbs onto her clit firmly, stroking circles that drew moans of pleasure and gratitude from her. He pressed his tongue to her opening and then thrust it up into her. She circled her hips over his face and hands, feeling her own arousal building to a peak. His tongue and fingers traded places, two fingers slipping inside and curling, stoking the burn of her fast-approaching climax, and his teeth pulled her swollen clit onto the tip of his tongue. She began chanting his name softly, then louder as her climax built between his teeth. Emma screamed out her orgasm. "Oh my god, Killian, Killian…" she panted as he tongued her through her pleasure.
Still fully dressed, Killian stood to unbuckle his belt. Emma came back to herself as he pulled his trousers down his hips to free his straining erection. He sat down on the edge of her bed, drawing his trousers down the rest of the way to the floor. "I still want to fuck you, love, with those breasts in my hands and my mouth," he growled. Emma smiled and leaned forward towards the bed, wrapping one hand around his cock and spotting the drop of precum on the head. She licked it off, and swirled her tongue once around the sensitive spot near the head of his weeping cock. "I'm not the only one who's dripping."
Emma settled her legs on either side of his hips. She reached between them and lined him up with her entrance. He pulled her towards him, slipping just inside and letting her control the rest. Emma arranged her legs around him, crossing her ankles at the small of his back. She straightened her back, her breasts jutting out just at the height of his lips. Killian smiled wolfishly, this position exactly to his liking. She sank onto his cock; he felt the warmth of her wet walls soothing across his entire length. She felt tight around him, squeezing her muscles to stimulate him even further.
Killian pushed her breasts up with his hands, resting his head for a moment on her cleavage, where he could look down on his cock disappearing inside of her, slick with her juices. He brought his attention back to the nipples bouncing so tantalisingly in front of his mouth. As promised, he sucked one into his mouth. Emma moaned and ground herself onto his cock. She slipped one hand down to her clit, her fingers rubbing furious circles into the sensitive nub. He heard her begin to moan more loudly, the vibration strumming through her chest.
Killian snapped his hips up into her, keeping his thrusts deep inside her, only pulling back by a small amount. The consistent pressure felt heavenly; Emma let her head fall back as a second orgasm built. When Killian bit down gently on her nipple, she cried out. He felt her walls tighten against him in a rhythmic pulse. He grasped both breasts in his hands and groaned into her chest as he came, too, emptying himself inside her.
They both toppled over onto his bed, Killian kissing his way up her neck to her mouth. Emma grinned when he pulled back to look at her.
"So," she drawled, running her fingers along his jawline, "you're quite enjoying my pregnancy, aren't you?"
"I hadn't anticipated this side of it," he admitted. "And I doubt you'll appreciate this, but first I get to make love to you until you're pregnant. Then your body becomes – and I wouldn't have thought this possible – even sexier, so I enjoy that for 9 months. Then I get a baby. It's hard to see the downside."
Emma snorted. She snuggled into him and breathed deep. She wasn't going to ruin the moment by bringing up morning sickness and labour, so she just appreciated his closeness. This time tomorrow, things would be very different. They would announce that they had the queen, and Arthur would come back for the fight, likely send assassins after them again, as well. Perhaps he loved Guinevere in his own way, but Emma remembered Davy Jones' comments about Arthur's narcissism; the king would never give up power, not even to save his queen.
As soon as they could get near him, they had to kill him.
"Stop thinking, love," Killian pulled her closer. "We only have a few hours left. Enjoy them."
...
Davy Jones lay back on the bank of the river, the silvery dust of the shoreline clinging to his dark hair. He looked up towards the shifting world of the living. He watched as Arthur tried to mount a house with a missing hand, light a fire with a missing hand, keep his remaining men in line with a missing hand... Jones chuckled to himself. He'd been watching little else since Killian had sliced the hand off.
Killian and his friends had prepared the bait: Guinevere and the kingdom. His son had prepared to take Arthur's precious crown right off his lying, cheating, murdering head. Davy, though, wanted to know the whereabouts of something far more precious to him. Something Arthur had managed to steal away and keep hidden all these years. But soon enough, Arthur would be crawling in this very dust, begging not to sink into the endless river of mercury. Jones had no mercy to show. He had a partiality for his own kin and for those who protected them, but that was as far as it went. He loved Killian, and he loved Emma by extension, and Henry and the baby by further extension. No mercy required there; he would give them whatever they asked of him. But his overwhelming emotional range began and ended with vengeance.
Arthur had a plan to murder his boy and his boy's woman. But Arthur hadn't counted on Jones watching every move, listening to every conversation. First Jones would let his Killian take the throne. And then, Jones would truly let hell rain down on the false king's head.
Jones shifted his gaze to Emma's father, and smiled to himself. Prince Charming had been as good as his word. Tomorrow, they would ensure the safety of their children once and for all.