A hazy, slightly purple twilight set low beyond the castle, and in the square, Will thought that he found the light of this kingdom soporific and strange. Beautiful, he acknowledged, but creepier than Wonderland or Oz, places where even the quality of light screamed at every nerve ending to beware, that nothing is as it seemed. Camelot's light snuck in behind Will's defences, and he hated it, for he knew that despite the seeming calm of the twilight, chaos bubbled away just beneath the surface.

He pulled Belle into him a bit closer, and stepped practically on top of Henry. Will knew crowds and he did not like the look of this one. The king's disembodied hand, signet ring still in place, had fallen from the tower nearly an hour before and splatted gracelessly onto the cobbles of the castle's courtyard. The crowd had broken through the castle's outer gates and dragged this final sign of Arthur's death into the square. The people identified their king's signet and they began to spread the news: Arthur was dead. The proof of Killian's words lay before them in a bloody lump of flesh. The buzz through the square was loud and menacing.

Henry's eyes wandered nervously across the crowd. It seemed that more and more people were flowing into the square as the evening drew on. "Where are Mom and Hook?" he asked Belle. "Killian knows better than anyone what happens to a rudderless ship."

Will nodded. "The people need reassurance that a king is in charge. He should speak to the crowd again, calm them down."

"We should make our way into the castle and find them," Henry proposed. "Can you get us all in, Will, once it's dark?"

Will considered the possibilities. The crowd could easily grow murderous, and typically in times of turmoil, it was best not to be the foreigner in the midst. "Let's make our way to the gate and keep watch for an opening. We'll get you back to your Mum, Henry."

…

David eyed the crowd in the square beneath the balcony. He broke his gaze and found Snow next to him, her eyes closed in quiet contemplation.

David met her eyes. "We need to send Hook back out onto the balcony. That crowd will pull itself apart with suspicion and unrest unless they believe that a successor is in place."

Snow tightened her fists and huffed out an exasperated noise. "You should have thought about that before you quite literally entered into a bargain with the devil and sent our daughter away, who knows where." She breathed deeply, trying to maintain her temper. "How could you do that to Emma? To Killian? He's supposed to be your friend. He certainly is your grandchild's father."

"I was not about to risk Emma in a fight with a man who has already stabbed her and tried to have her raped," David insisted. "She and Killian have been running and fighting alone for long enough. I'm her father; I have a duty to keep her safe. Jones wanted Orla to have her revenge, and I wanted Emma well away from Arthur."

Snow shook with anger. This was David as Prince, David as leader of the kingdom, David who had forgotten that they used to take decisions together. They consulted. They discussed.

But across the room she spotted Orla, black gown shimmering as she paced the perimeter of the Guinevere's large room, Mairead at one elbow and Guinevere at the other. The women conferred in furious rush, their time limited and so much to say to one another. With a sudden whirl of her skirts, Orla stopped mid-stride and spun towards Snow. She rushed across the room, her jewelled hands held before her. Snow held out her own hands in automatic response.

"Snow White," Orla beamed at her. "A great princess of the Enchanted Forest. Davy has told me all about your daughter and how happy she has made my Killian. I have cried centuries for him and his wounded soul." Orla smiled deep from her warm, purple-brown eyes. "You tell me, are they happy together?"

Snow nodded without hesitation. "Oh, yes. They are. Very happy. They light each other up." Snow held Orla's hands and squeezed. "You must know, when you… return with Davy… I will look after him, Orla. Like my own son. I promise."

Orla let out a small sound. "Thank you, Princess Snow," Orla spoke correctly and formally, and Snow understood how Killian had picked up his precise speech and expansive vocabulary. He had always seemed unnaturally well-spoken for a pirate.

While Snow was reassuring Orla, Jones had situated himself behind his wife and wrapped his arms around her waist. He nosed aside her curls and lowered his lips to her neck. For all his swagger, Snow could see how thoroughly besotted he was with this woman. Orla leaned back against his chest and tilted her face into his chin.

"When will Killy be back?"

"Any moment, my love," Jones assured her, pulling her closer.

Regina watched the two couples from a quiet alcove across the room. She had known Killian for long enough to know that he probably would not want old wounds reopened, certainly not in front of witnesses. Orla and Davy, David and Snow… people so long connected to each other that they easily forgot that Killian and Emma's relationship was still new and fragile. Regina had to admit that the pirate had taken every decision he could to protect and adore Emma, and for that Regina was willing to give him her loyalty and help.

So she sequestered herself in the shadows, waiting, until Emma and Killian reappeared before them all. Snow catapulted herself at Emma, hugging her and whispering loud apologies. Emma hugged her mother back, and glared daggers over Snow's shoulder at David. Snow's ardent hugs had the additional effect of dragging Emma slightly away from Killian, and drawing her into a confrontation with David. Leaving Killian standing alone in the centre of the room, facing down his dead mother and the father he had repeatedly made clear he wanted nothing to do with.

"For fuck's sake," Regina swore at the Charmings under her breath. With that, Regina stepped forward. She put a hand on Killian's arm. He looked away from his mother, startled, and his wide blue eyes met Regina's. She nodded to him, business-like and simple. "As the adults sent you away earlier, I'll send them away now. Click your fingers when you're ready to have us back." Regina patted his shoulder in commiseration. "Good luck." With that, the room filled with a thick purple smoke, sweeping away everyone bar Emma, Killian and Orla.

…

Emma took in all that presented as Orla in a single glance – aristocratic nose, wild curls, wide eyes and a sharp intelligence about the face – and decided that there was no need to fear a scarring, emotional conversation from this woman. Orla held herself at a respectful distance and did not pitch herself at her long lost son. If Killian admitted to no memories of Orla, it stood to reason that she had little idea of Killian beyond the long-ago toddler's fleeting interests. Emma let go the tight hold she'd had on Killian's left hand, and let him wander a wide circle around his mother.

Killian took in every detail, searching for memories of his own, but it was all so far away past, and so mingled with Liam's half-formed memories and fantasies, he found nothing to link this woman to himself. When Orla sat on the edge of plush armchair, nervous but contained, Killian drew up a chair and set it across from her. He sat on its edge, studying his mother critically. Her genetic line seemed to have started and ended with Liam, long dead, no children of his own to pass down regal self-possession and enviable curls. Killian admitted to himself that he was, at least in appearance, entirely his father's son.

He flicked a glance to Emma's flat belly and tried to imagine a connection between this woman before him and his steadfast, whole-hearted love for his child, her grandchild. He came up blank.

"It's unfair, Killian, isn't it? That by virtue of dying young, I lost all rights to you," Orla shrugged self-deprecatingly. "But there we are." She shifted stiffly in her chair and held his gaze. "I do love you my son, and always did, always have. And that's done precisely nothing helpful for you."

A strange start, Emma thought. If Mary Margaret had been put in Orla's place, she would be sobbing in his lap by now, clutching his hands, begging for his acceptance and love. But Orla didn't seem the begging type, and if her opening salvo was meant to spur Killian into some sort of announcement to the contrary, one look at the pirate and anyone could see if would be a long time coming.

"Yes, I'm sure you loved me… love me," Killian nodded non-committedly. "Liam always said so." Emma waited for either one of them to continue this line of discussion, but that seemed to be all they had to give. His eyes looked dry and honestly so. Far more strangely, so did hers.

"Snow promised to look after you for me. I suspect that's not really necessary. And now of course you have Emma," Orla smiled and inclined her head to Emma at this. "And soon a child of your own. I hope, son, that you are never forced to part with your child, whatever the reason."

Emma thought about this. She had parted with Henry, but managed to build a relationship with his after 10 years apart. Henry had reached out. It had taken her a while, but she had reached right back in the end. Killian's face, though, was set to polite stone. He looked as likely to reach for his mother as a drowning man is to reach for a lump of heavy iron. Still, Emma reckoned she could induce a hug between them, but then gave that up as manipulative. Whatever Killian did or did not feel for his mother, it would be come by genuinely.

"Will it be possible to see you again, after this?" Killian asked levelly.

Orla shook her curls gently side to side. "No, it won't be possible. But I'm so happy to see you grown, well, and happy. You've made me very proud." Orla's eyes crinkled at the edges as she smiled at him.

"Aye, well… good," Killian gave a curt bob of his head. He failed to see how anything he had done for good or ill could be ascribed to his fleeting relationship with this woman, or how it might inspire pride due to the seemingly inconsequential detail of his parentage. But over by the wall where she was trying to stay out of the way, Emma understood that one perfectly. When she'd first met Henry, seen his bravery and intelligence, yes, she'd been immediately proud, despite having nothing whatsoever to do with it.

Emma stepped forward and slid her arm around Killian's shoulders where he sat. "Thank you, Orla, for ridding us of Arthur," Emma said. "We'll be free now. We have a life to build together, thanks to you."

"No, nothing like it," Orla replied with feeling. "You and Killian drove Arthur out of the shadows. You survived his onslaught without giving in. All I did was put the final blade in." She swept her hands around to the balconies. "And now it's all yours, if you want it. Your kingdom to command, son."

Killian let out a breath. "I have never intended to be a king, and I do not seek it now. I do not want it now." He glanced out over the balustrade at the darkening square below. "I intend to take Emma and Henry and leave, tonight if possible, and never return to this cursed kingdom."

From below, Killian could hear the crowd growing fractious. They could tear each other apart, for all he cared. Camelot had been the source of nothing but pain for his family, and he was finding it quite difficult to avoid a confrontation with this woman in front of him, mother or no. Digging into her secrets and motivations, however, was unlikely to help anyone. He had survived centuries without this information, and now that the malevolence of Arthur could harm neither him nor his loved ones, he decided that he could live several more in peaceful ignorance. His hand strayed over Emma's belly. He had a new family to create.

"Well, we had best call back the others and prevent a riot," he tipped his head towards the square and stood. Orla rose to her feet as well, still studying her son. She smiled lightly at him and agreed.

"I know your father is anxious to be back in the Underworld, to see to Arthur's immortal soul," she added with satisfaction. Ah, thought Emma. If her family were inveterate pedlars of hope, then Killian's family did an equally good line in revenge and blood-honour. So many pages in the blank book of Killian's past filled in all at once in Emma's mind, and she found herself just wanting to skip ahead to the story-so-far, where the blank pages stretched forward, where she and her true love could write the rest of it together.

Killian snapped his fingers, and Regina heard the summons. She returned with the others, including Henry, Will and Belle, rounded up from the entrance to the castle.

Killian stepped forward to Guinevere and held out his hand. "Come, Guinevere, I will stand next to you, to hand over the kingdom to its true queen. You can rule in place of Arthur. I know that the people will accept you."

David patted Killian on the shoulder. "If that's to be your only act as king, you would have made one hell of a ruler. A fine decision, and good for the people of this kingdom."

Killian raised an eyebrow. "It would be good for the people of this kingdom to develop democracy, so they wouldn't be subject to the whims of monarchs, good or evil. The Land Without Magic has taught me a few things." He shrugged. "But a wise and generous queen will do for today." Guinevere took his hand and they strode back out onto the balcony again to address the crowd.

Standing out of sight of the square inside the room, Emma hugged Henry to her. Snow and David gathered close by. Emma held out her hand to Regina. "Thank you for giving Killian a moment with his mother."

Regina waved off the thanks and nodded to the window, where Killian's deep voice was extolling the virtues of Queen Guinevere. "Does this mean we can get out of here? There's still the matter of Merlin to settle, you know, before we can get you back to Storybrooke."

Emma sighed and squeezed her friend's hand. "I know, but let's sort that out tomorrow." Killian stepped back into the room from the balcony, and Emma pulled him into their little group. She tilted up on her toes to kiss him, and he slid his hand into her hair in response. He kissed her back just a bit more possessively than she had intended.

"Child present," Henry admonished in a teasing voice. Killian broke off the kiss with a grin.

"True enough, lad, and we need to be on our way at any rate." Killian paused to find Mairead. He called over to her, "I intend sailing back to the Enchanted Forest tonight, Aunt Mairead. Do you wish to accompany us? Your home on the square in Cath Harbour still stands ready for you, still owned by your husband's family. They will welcome you."

Mairead came close enough to take hold of Killian's shoulders, a damn site closer than Killian's own mother had dared. "No," she said, tousling his hair like a child, "I'll stay here with Guinevere and see to the new kingdom."

Killian ducked from her attentions and twisted gracefully away. "Goodbye, then, aunt."

"Back to the Jolly Roger w' us then, Captain Jones?" broke in Will's irreverent tone. "Can't keep the lady waiting any longer."

"Aye," Killian nodded. And as a mark of how desperate he was to get out of Camelot, he suggested that Regina and Emma simply magic them all back to the ship. Emma knew that Killian would prefer a horse ride or even a long walk back to trusting himself to magic, even hers.

Guinevere returned to the room, crowd settled and the cheers from the townfolk still ringing through the square. She was flushed and happy, quickly hugging all present, even Davy Jones, who looked even more uncomfortable with it than his son. Jones laid an arm over Killian's shoulder. "Let me take us back to your ship, son," he asked. Emma caught a hint of vulnerability.

"Aye," Killian nodded. "Get on with it, then."

A gentle black fog settle from the ceiling downwards and Emma felt the warm strength of Jones' magic envelope her. Everyone's magic felt different, and his, she was surprised to find, was surprisingly soft given the power he wielded. She felt her being wash into the fog along with Henry and Killian, Snow and David, Regina and Orla, Belle and Will. She lost her grip on Henry and Killian as the smoky breeze bore her away toward the Jolly Roger, but she sighed happily to herself. Whatever else Killian thought of his family, they would see them all safe home. She was certain of it.

When she opened her eyes, she was standing directed behind Killian at the helm of the Jolly Roger, with her head resting on his shoulder. Jones had reached into Killian's heart and placed her exactly where Killian wanted her to be. "Back to Cath Harbour, then, Captain?"

Killian turned to nuzzle into her neck, beneath a soft fall of her hair. "Yes, my love. And there we'll finish this."