Killian was still swearing and raining down curses on his father's head when he and Emma rematerialised inside the villa. The room appeared exactly as it had been for the three days back in the Enchanted Forest: the simple four-poster bed, the walls of windows, the attached bathroom, the water pump. He instinctively searched his surroundings for signs of danger, but he knew almost without looking that there weren't any. Whatever else he might think of Jones, he felt completely certain the man would never send he and Emma and the baby into danger.

Killian could see the enchanted ocean once again outside the floor to ceiling glass walls, with a gentle splash of warm sea rolling over a faded wooden deck. One of the huge windows stood open to the deck, letting the sea air blow through the room, ruffling Emma's hair and dress. The smell of salt and warmth and wood swirled around them. The room dipped and swayed with the tide, like a yacht moored to the dock, in the middle of a clear, endless azure sea.

"Ocean," Emma smiled to herself. "I see it, too, this time. He made it for you. The most wonderful place both of you can think of, is this." She felt him clenching his muscles, the hatred for his father still coursing through his veins. He turned away from her and directed his fist through the nearest window. It shattered fell to pieces at his feet, but his hand remained unharmed. Nothing in the villa could hurt them, but Emma felt the illusion falter under Killian's attack.

"Killian," she kept her distance from the murderous pirate, but called with her most no-nonsense voice, "this place survives on love. You can break it apart as quickly as I can if you let this hatred rule you."

"Emma," he tried to keep his voice steady towards her, speaking through a clenched jaw, "we have quite literally been sent to our room by our parents. It was obvious that David was in on this as well."

Emma thought back to their first time in the villa. Killian had been managing her emotions then, keeping quiet about love and anything deep that might frighten her, and finally tricking her into breaking the spell so that they could escape. She wasn't as good as he was at reading emotions and responding to them, but she knew she had to dissipate the anger. And she knew how. She sat heavily on the bed and put her face in her hands, willing some tears to fall, and letting out a quiet sob. The effect was instantaneous; Killian dropped to his knees in front of her, all concern.

"Love, what's wrong? Are you hurt? Is it the baby?"

Emma shook her head, not wanting to cause him any actual worry. She sniffled through her fingers, keeping her face covered, "I don't know how to make you happy. You're so angry with him, and then you get angry with me…"

"No, love, no. I am not angry with you…"

"And I know it was patronising, what they've done, sending us here… but they did it to keep us safe. David told us that he and Papa," and here Emma felt Killian tense up all over again – dammit, tactical error, she was no good at this - "had spoken in the Underworld, and they've obviously plotted together, let us do our bit and then get us out of the way until it's all over." She chanced a look through her fingers, and tried to locate a few more tears.

Killian remained on his knees, taking her hands in his. Emma nervously awaited his response. "Love, you're shite at this," he said finally. "You lack the necessary subtlety. If you want to distract me from whatever emotion I may be displaying, just get undressed. It will always work." He raised an eyebrow. "I assure you that you will always be able to manipulate me through sex."

Emma lifted her tear-free face and regarded him coolly. "Do you think it's safe to go swimming?" she asked.

"Yes, this isn't just the villa. He's clearly created a whole landscape for us. Safe as houses," Killian answered, a bit bemused at the apparent non-sequitur.

"Fine then," she stood up and gave the bow at the back of her dress a harsh tug, setting it free. Her dress dropped to the floor with a whoosh. "I'm going swimming. Naked." Her enhanced breasts swayed enticingly as she made her way to the dock outside the window.

Killian nodded in approval and started tugging at the bindings of his trousers and waistcoat simultaneously. "Right behind you, love. Just want to watch you walking away…" He sighed happily. Was she a little bit curvier around the hips as well? Maybe his campaign of manipulating her into sleeping and eating more regularly was working. "God, you are incredibly gorgeous, love."

"You know, Killian, I've never been on a holiday to the sea, somewhere warm and non-Neverland," she said, arranging herself on the deck so that her feet splashed in the water. "No one ever took me to the ocean as a kid. Neither did Neil, though he talked a good game. Oh, the sea is so luscious here. Like a bath."

Killian walked out on the dock next to her, entirely naked as well. He dove straight in, swam a few metres and then came back to her, propping himself up on the dock with his arms while his body swayed in the sea.

"Coming in?" he asked. "There's a beach over there which I feel will be idyllic, perfect for your first seaside holiday." He smiled and held out his hand. "I'll give my father this, he knows how to put together a beach paradise."

Emma slipped into the water next to him and wrapped herself around his wet frame. "I promise to sail you and Henry out on the Jolly Roger, sail someplace warm and sandy." He encircled her with one arm, still hanging off the dock with the other, and kissed her. She angled her head to let him reach in more deeply, wrapping her legs around his waist. He broke the kiss and lifted her slightly, so that her breasts broke over the surface of the water. He leaned down to lick the salt water from her nipples. Emma arched her back at the sensation. She tilted his head back up to her and kissed him again.

"Shall we swim for the beach?"

"Aye, love, lead the way."

…

Arthur did not keep them waiting. He had burst through the doors of Guinevere's room within half an hour of Killian's announcement to the crowd. David, Jones, Snow and Regina never saw him coming; he must have opened a portal inside the castle itself. His spy network moved fast.

His knights kicked down the reinforced door and flooded the room: five, ten, twenty streamed in, securing the scene, before Arthur himself strode in, sweating, filthy, somewhat bloody and decidedly one-handed. The knights pushed Mairead, Snow and David against a wall, but couldn't touch Regina, and didn't dare touch Guinevere.

"Lost something, Arthur?" Jones leered, grinning at Arthur's bloody stump. "At least my son had the style to come up with a hook."

"Your son? That little bastard is mine. Your wife never could say no when it came to me," Arthur shot back. "Where is he, then? Run away like a coward from the king, just like you did?"

Jones stepped a bit closer to Arthur, looking him up and down. "Doesn't look like the Enchanted Forest has been good to you. I hear the Jones family has been chasing you like a rat. Actually, I've been watching them chase you like a rat. You've been hiding in the dirt, King Arthur. Hiding from my Killian and his family."

Jones heard groaning and a struggle; he looked over to see Regina pinning one of Arthur's knights against the balcony railing, cutting of his air supply for good measure. She gave a flick of her fingers and sent the knight tumbling over the side to splatter against the stones of the courtyard below.

"Good thinking, Your Majesty. Emma noticed that Arthur always hides behind his minions. Let's even up the playing field, shall we?" Jones swirled his hand around the room and the knights crumbled to ash on the floor, then blew harmlessly out the open balcony doors.

Arthur looked temporarily lost. He edged towards Guinevere, grabbed her and held her fast with his left arm, and he held a knife to her throat with his hand.

Jones blew out a breath in disdain. "First hiding behind your knights, and now behind your long-suffering, long-drugged wife? You disgust me. But then, you always did."

"I didn't disgust your wife, though, did I? She screamed for me, again and again and again." Tears were running down Guinevere's face, but Jones took minimal notice. Mairead reached for her, but Arthur pressed the knife closer to the queen's neck.

"Oh, I don't know, Arthur. Perhaps it's only right that we ask Orla what she thought of you."

He turned the ring over in his hand, and gave it a quick kiss. "Orla, my darling, want to come out to play?"

A shimmer of silver smoke radiated next to Jones, and a woman materialised next to him. She had soft, dark hair that hung in endless curls down her back and bright, brown eyes that shifted colour, from deep chocolate to almost lilac, in the light. Her black dress seemed to absorb all the colours in the room. She watched the room calmly, taking in everyone, measuring their intentions and relationships, her face aristocratic and intelligent. Snow could see Killian in her calm appraisal of all that went on around her, her confidence and bearing. If Killian looked entirely like Jones, he had his mother's sharp perception.

Orla's eyes settled on Arthur and narrowed. She took a step to him, her arms and fingers weighed down with gold and gemstones that caught Arthur's eye. She sparkled as she moved.

As she passed Jones, he brought his hand to the small of her back, stopping her with his touch.

"Your sword, my darling," Jones beamed at her. He conjured a beautiful blade from thin air and extended the hilt towards her. She smiled and accepted the heavy sword, holding it with practiced ease. She tilted the point to the floor tiles and rested it lightly against her hip, leaning into Jones at the same time.

"I thank you, my love," she murmured to him, placing a small kiss on his lips. With Jones arm still around her, she turned back to Arthur.

"Orla," Arthur choked, so shocked that he loosened his grip on Guinevere. Snow dove forward and pulled the queen away from him.

Guinevere turned her face from Snow's shoulder and stared at the woman before her. "Orla," she breathed, "Oh, Orla, you're here." Guinevere walked to the woman as if in a trance. She ran her fingers along the length of the sword, and glanced at Arthur. Guinevere looked into the woman's eyes, tears forming beneath her lashes. "I never knew, my sweet friend," she said quietly, "They have woken me." Guinevere gripped sword until it cut slightly into her flesh. "Avenge us," she whispered harshly.

Orla raised the sword in front of her. "With pleasure, Guinevere," she bowed her head slightly to the queen. She turned her dark head to look back at Jones and her eyes sparkled. He raised his chin in Arthur's direction, a wordless commiseration that she should go ahead.

Orla brought the glittering blade across Arthur's remaining hand first, slicing it clean away from his arm. The blood immediately began to pool on the cold tile floor, and Arthur sank to his knees in agony. "That's for what you've done to my son and to Emma and to Guinevere." She took off his left foot next. "And that was for my life. But this," she rolled the sword in her hands, feeling its power and heft. "This is for my daughter's life." She stabbed the sword through Arthur's chest with all her strength. "And now my greatest and best love, my husband, will torture you forever more, for all eternity, and you will never escape his vengeance and hatred." She pulled the sword from his body, and knelt down next to him, to watch him bleed out across the tiles, watch the king's life drain away.

Jones dropped to a knee next to his wife, and when the king was dead, he lifted her to her feet. "A good job, Orla, and I shall keep your promise," he said proudly.

She threw her sword down on Arthur's body with finality. "We should throw his body over the balcony. If they see him broken on the courtyard stones, the people will believe he's gone." She turned back around to her husband. "Davy, where's our boy? Where's my Killian?" Her bright eyes shone with longing.

Snow, David and Regina were spellbound; here stood Killian's mother, a person they'd felt certain they would never know anything of. Jones leaned over to David and shook his hand. "Thank you, prince, for recovering Orla's ring. At least my boy will have the chance to see his mother now, however difficult it is." Jones trained his voice down towards the floor. "Jonathan! I'm sending you to collect Emma and Killian." The doorman appeared at Jones' side. "Bring Killian back, in a fit state to meet his mother, please," Jones added meaningfully.

…

Jonathan saw no sign of his master's son or the girlfriend in the villa. He found their clothing, sure enough: hers in neat pile on the floor next to the bed, his scattered along a rough trail that led to the glass door. Jonathan followed the path onto the deck, then scanned out across the gentle expanse of sea to the nearby beach. There lay Mr Jones and Ms Swan, tangled in each other and passed out from exhaustion, wet from their swim and covered with in sand. Ms Swan's long, sandy hair was dripping across Mr Jones' chest. Jonathan rolled his eyes and walked across the water to the beach, remembering his boss's orders to bring them back decent and clothed.

He clicked his fingers and covered them with a smoky grey sheet, then whistled low and loud to wake them. Mr Jones reacted instantly, sitting upright and scanning for intruders. He relaxed when he saw Jonathan.

"Have the adults decided to call us back?" he asked.

Jonathan inclined his head slightly in the affirmative. "Mr Jones, Ms Swan," he greeted them. "I need to have you up and dressed to return."

Emma grunted from her spot in the sand, where she'd been deposited after Killian sat up so abruptly. Without speaking, she whirled her hand as she'd seen Regina do so many times, and she and Killian were sitting in their Camelot finery again, washed and dressed and ready to play king and queen. Killian stood first and held out his hand to pull her up.

"So what did we kids miss while we were grounded?" Emma asked. "I assume they've killed Arthur."

Jonathan just gazed past them. "We need to get back." He fixed his gaze on Killian. "Your mother is waiting."

…

Killian remembered nothing of his mother. He had Liam's memories: smells, impressions, colours, sounds that Liam associated with their mother, but none of it was based on Killian's own recollections. And he had a feeling that Liam had made up many of the stories he told Killian about their mum. It seemed to Killian that Liam didn't remember much, either, the shock of their abandonment and the struggle to survive wiping out all that had gone before.

Emma held tight to Killian's arm, watching his expression carefully. "Killian's mother..."

"A trick, an illusion created by my demon father," he hissed.

"No, not an illusion, but the spirit of your mother, brought to the surface by a talisman that Prince Charming retrieved and your father's magic," Jonathan corrected.

"I knew David was mixed up in this," Emma groaned. She turned to Killian and stroked her fingers down his cheekbone. "Your mother, Killian. You'll be able to meet her." Emma had the stirrings of tears in her eyes.

"Aye," Killian answered thoughtfully. "Except that she's still dead. It's not Mary Margaret and David, joyfully reunited with you after 28 years. My parents and Liam, they are still dead and have been for two centuries. I'm not sure what this accomplishes." He met Emma's eyes. "I have had enough pain, Emma. I'm happy with you and the family we are creating. I would like to leave the dead where they are."

"Jonathan, please leave us for few moments," Emma told the spirit. When he disappeared again, Emma took Killian's face in her hands. "You tell me what you want to do. You don't have to meet her."

"The thing is, she clearly wants to meet me. It's rather difficult to deny one's dead mother that simple request," he sighed. "I know Liam would give anything…"

"Maybe she's been with Liam. Maybe she knows about him."

"C'mon, love, I'm not getting out of this, so let's meet my mother. And if Arthur's dead, that means we could return to Storybrooke. Find a home. Build a life for Henry and the baby."

"Babies, right? I thought you wanted more than one?" Emma smiled at him.

"Aye, love, that I do." He brushed his lips against hers and pulled her close. "Jonathan," he called out across the water. "Take us back to Camelot." Killian watched the grey smoke circle them, and he closed his eyes and breathed in the salty scent of Emma's hair and tried to keep faith in his present.

...

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