A/N: It's finished! I finished my first multi-chapter! I'm so happy I could dance! Please let me know what you think, I'd love to hear from you, dear readers.
Disclaimer: Not my characters, not my world. Just my imagination borrowing them for a bit.
Emma stumbled as she was pushed into the prison wagon, catching herself on the wall of the cage, the iron manacles around her wrists clinking loudly against the chain connecting them. Liam was already inside and sitting against the back wall of the dark cage, his cuffed hands rubbing his neck gently.
"Are you -" he tried to say, his voice weak and raspy as he broke off in a pained cough.
She nodded, turning back to the black metal door behind her. "I'm fine." Killian…
A moment later, his limp body was tossed onto the floor of the wagon and the iron gate swung shut. The largest of the bounty hunters snarled through the thin space between the fat metal bars. "Best get comfortable, Highness," he jeered as he slammed the huge lock shut. "We've got a bit of a trip ahead of us and I can't wait to get paid for you lot." He walked away, leaving them alone in the near darkness.
She turned to Killian, Liam already beside him. The left side of Killian's face was covered in blood, the bruise at his temple much larger than the one she'd given him the other day. His breaths were even but strangely stuttering, his eyes firmly shut.
"Ribs," whispered Liam, his hand on his brother's side.
"Broken?" she asked, her chest twisting in sympathy.
He nodded and mouthed, Probably.
"Is there anything we should do?"
He frowned and shook his head. "Later," he whispered.
The wagon started moving, the mobile prison swaying and bumping as they started back to the Enchanted Forest.
Emma ran her fingers lightly through his dark hair, pushing the stray locks away from the blood on his face. Liam's hand tapped her arm. "Water," he rasped, pointing to his brother's back. She had a moment of confusion, then remembered.
The flask. Right.
She felt it tucked beneath the waistband of Killian's trousers and yanked it free, passing it to the elder Jones. He had ripped off a scrap of cloth from the inside of his jacket and he quickly splashed some water on it before pressing it to his brother's head. With his other hand, he gently rubbed his fingers across his own neck, and in the dim light peeking through the window on the door, she could see the ring of red marking his throat.
"I can do this for him," she offered softly, "if you need to rest."
Liam watched her a moment, his eyes difficult to read in the darkened cage.
"Don't hurt him," he whispered finally.
"What?"
"Too many… let him down… left him… before," Liam managed to get out softly, pausing between each breath. "Don't hurt him."
She put her hand on top of his, over the cloth on Killian's head, and looked straight at Liam, his eyes barely illuminated in the dim light.
"I won't."
Liam nodded and withdrew his hand to settle back against the wall. She kept her palm over the rag as she slipped her other hand beneath Killian's head, shifting him onto her folded lap. Dabbing carefully, she managed to wipe away most of the blood. No new gashes marred his head, but the wound she'd given him had reopened and was bleeding steadily, a slow trickle that she wiped away with the damp scrap of cloth. I'm sorry.
She stroked his hair gently, shining black in the moonlight, as the wagon rocked and lurched through the woods. The minutes passed, and he still didn't wake, though his older brother had nodded off a while ago, another water-soaked scrap of his clothing wrapped loosely around his injured neck.
"Killian," she whispered, patting his face gently with the cloth. "Come back to me."
As if he heard, Killian suddenly groaned, squeezing his eyes tightly as he shifted in her lap.
"People need to stop hitting me in the head," he moaned. He lifted his shackled hand to his head, startled at the heavy irons around his wrist.
"Hey," she whispered down at him. He cracked open his eyes and peered at her, squinting even in the dark. "Are you all right?"
He grinned, a lopsided smirk that lit up half his face. "All part of the plan, right?"
"Getting beaten up wasn't really a part of the plan, was it?"
He slipped one hand around his chest, cradling his battered ribs as he rolled fully onto his back, his head still in her lap, grunting in pain as he moved. "It was, ow, always a possibility."
A worried look crossed his eyes, and he spun his head to the side, searching for his brother. "Liam… is he-"
"He's fine," she said softly, her hand on his shoulder. "He's asleep. But we have a problem."
Killian turned back to her, his hand still on his face. "What?"
"Liam can't talk."
He was quiet for a moment, and Emma knew why. The last part of their plan, the part they were heading toward, was for Liam to plead their case before the Admiralty with the king present, to accuse King James and his top military men of attempted genocide. Liam was the most eloquent, the least likely to lose his temper (which Killian argued briefly before realising he'd already lost his case), and the most likely to be heard, being a full Captain. Intentionally getting caught by bounty hunters was worthless without Liam - without his voice, they were in trouble. As royalty from the enemy land, they wouldn't listen to her, and if Killian felt as bad as he looked, there was no way he could manage such a task.
"I'll do it," he said quietly.
She shook her head. "You can't, you can barely keep your eyes open. How are you going to stand in front of them for however long it takes and do what needs to be done?"
"I'll do it," he repeated. "We have no other choice." She knew he was right, but it didn't seem fair, after everything that had happened to him already to be forced to bear this burden as well.
"You still have the dreamshade?" he asked.
She nodded. "Yeah."
"Let me hold onto it. I think it'll work better if it comes from me."
Emma slipped her hand into the pocket of her skirt and pulled out the leather glove she'd stashed there earlier, passing it to him.
"You're sure it can't stab me through this?" Killian fingered the top of the glove nervously.
"It's two gloves, one inside the other," she answered. "And yes, it doesn't go through leather. You'll be fine."
He pushed the concealed poison into his pocket and relaxed against her legs again.
"Actually," Emma started softly, not really sure how to continue. "You're, um…" She could feel the heat on her cheeks as she stammered to find the right words. "You're kind of heavy," she whispered in the end, "and I need to stretch."
"If you can move, that is," she added hurriedly, watching his face.
He smiled. "Sure." With his arm wrapped around his chest, he managed to slide off her lap, groaning softly as she helped him move to sit against the side wall of their mobile prison. His eyes were closed tightly as he leaned his head back against the wall, but after a few steadying breaths, he opened them and looked to her.
"Come here," he whispered softly, his arm reaching out for her, iron chain dangling noisily in the air. She slid closer to him, ducking under his elbow to rest in their now familiar position against his chest, his arm wrapped firmly around her shoulders as he held her.
"It's going to work out," he said, pressing a light kiss to her forehead. "Don't worry, Emma. The hard part is over."
"You think convincing the Admiralty that the king is a traitor is going to be easy?" she asked.
He laughed, then grunted as the movement must have pained his sore ribs. "No, not at all," he murmured. "This entire time I've been worried about you getting hurt, because of me. Now that I know you're safe, the rest is simple."
"But you're injured," she whispered. "How are you going to manage in front of them like this?"
"I've had worse. I'll be fine."
She wasn't sure she wanted to know what "worse" was, but she found herself too tired to chase that line of thought even if she did. She yawned, lifting her hand to cover her mouth as she did.
"Rest, love. I'll wake you when we get there."
She wasn't sure if it was the constant rocking of the carriage through the woods, or the way his chest rose and fell steadily, if not more shallow than before, under her cheek, the sound of his heartbeat loud in the ear pressed against him, or the general warmth she felt when she was next to him, but it didn't matter.
She slept.
Killian sensed the change in the wagon's movements even while asleep, feeling the difference between the dirt forest road and the city's semi-paved ones immediately. He opened his eyes, trying to gauge where they were based on the sounds, but found that a harder task without being able to see out the tiny window. His head hurt, more than it had the last time someone hit him, but tending to it would have to wait. He could feel the bruising that was spread across his midsection and he was certain at least two of his ribs were broken to some degree. Not much he could do about it now, so he forced himself to breathe as normally as possible, pain flaring a bit at each inhale but nothing he couldn't manage, for a while anyway.
He looked around the small wagon. Emma was still pressed against him, breathing slowly and evenly, completely asleep. Liam was just waking up as well, his hands gently touching his neck, which was red and slightly swollen. Killian winced in sympathy even as his brother flashed him a grin.
You all right? Liam mouthed. He nodded and raised an eyebrow to his brother. You?
Liam made a face and shrugged. I'll live, he replied soundlessly.
The wagon stopped just then. Killian nudged Emma. "Wake up, love," he said softly. "We're here."
She opened her eyes quickly and sat back, lifting her manacled hands to wipe the sleep from her face. "Is this…" she paused, looking at the two brothers in turn. "Is this really going to work?"
Liam nodded without hesitation, and Killian reached for her, touching her shoulder gently. "Yes." She smiled at him, and he could feel whatever doubt or hesitation he'd been hiding melt away right there.
"Thank you," she whispered. "Both of you, for doing this for me, for my kingdom. I can't thank you enough."
Killian grinned as Liam tipped an imaginary hat to her, just as the sound of a key fiddling in the locked door sounded just outside the cage.
"Wakey wakey, traitors," one of the men shouted. The lock clicked and the door swung open, bright light streaming into the wagon. Killian blinked, it felt as if the light was piercing his pounding skull, but he forced himself to act as if nothing was wrong. Emma needed him now, they all counted on him, he couldn't let them down, the cost was too high and there was no going back.
"Ge' out," the largest man called inside.
He stood first, crouching low as he stepped toward the door, hopping lightly to the ground below. He nearly made it without a sound as the movement jarred his broken ribs, but the man's elbow suddenly found its way into his side and he fell over in the dirt with a short cry of pain. He swallowed hard, forcing the throbbing pain to the back of his consciousness as he slowly got to his feet, chains clinking loudly against his cuffed wrists.
Emma was out of the wagon and Liam was just stepping down as he was nudged over to them, then all three herded toward the gleaming white building in front of them.
The Admiralty. In session, by the amount of flags waving in the gentle breeze, the king's flag flapping atop the highest flagpole.
James was here. Perfect.
They were prodded through the door, then down the long hallway toward the courtroom. With the king's visit, it was likely open court, which was exactly what they were hoping for - a room full of other captains and high-ranking officers as their witnesses.
"The deserters, as promised, plus the spy" the leader claimed proudly to the clerk sitting in a small desk beside the door.
"Leave them," the clerk replied without looking up. "Your bounty is in the usual place, down the hall in Funds."
"Guess this is goodbye," the leader muttered in Killian's ear. "Can't say I'll miss ye, but I suppose we'll meet again. At your hanging." He turned and left, the other two men following, as they sauntered down the hallway, and Killian swore the large one winked at him as he turned the corner. He ignored the shudder that passed through him.
He turned his attention back on the clerk, who was still speaking.
"- you'll be presented in a few minutes. The court will list your crimes and you'll be given a chance to defend yourselves. Do you require a barrister?"
Liam shook his head. The clerk made a note. "Good, that will speed things along considerably. One last note, this the most important. Though the king is present, you are not to address him directly. The Admiralty court still reserves jurisdiction on your sentencing and it is the First Lord Admiral to whom you will be speaking." He nodded to the guard, who had appeared from seemingly nowhere.
"Take them in."
Killian barely had a chance to take a breath, to calm himself, to process everything that was happening before he, Liam and the Princess were ushered into the large room, the heavy doors closing with a loud "thud" behind them, sounding very, very final.
The room was packed. Ahead of them, the court sat in session, Admirals and local lords seated behind the bench. In the center sat King James, the sight of him turning Killian's stomach more than the beating he'd taken the night before. He knew he had to calm down, to act reasonably, especially because Liam wasn't able to take over for him, but he couldn't help the anger rising in his blood the closer they got to the front of the room.
The bailiff read from the list he'd been handed as the three prisoners were pushed into the defendant's box. "Your Highness, Lords of the Admiralty, presenting Captain William Jones, of the Jewel of the Realm, Lieutenant Killian Jones, of the Jewel of the Realm, and Princess Emma, from the kingdom of Misthaven."
A hushed whisper rose in the crowd at the last name as Emma slid imperceptibly closer to him. He held her fingers tightly, surprised to find that his own were trembling just as badly as hers.
The First Lord Admiral Covey, leader of the Board of Admiralty, called out from beside the king. "Read the charges, bailiff."
"Captain Jones and Lieutenant Jones are charged with desertion and theft of royal property. Princess Emma is charged with spying during wartime."
"And how do you plead?" asked the First Lord, peering down at them over his slivered spectacles.
Killian took a breath, as deeply as he could manage, released Emma's fingers and stepped forward.
"Not guilty, M'lord." His voice was clear, clearer than he thought it would be considering the violent shaking in his stomach, and he found himself relaxing a bit.
The king raised an eyebrow as the Admiral checked the notes in front of him.
"You are aware, Lieutenant, that we have reason to believe you found an item, a map, that you were sent to retrieve for your king. We also have reason to believe that you removed said item from your ship in a crate, which was later found empty and abandoned with your wagon at the edge of the forest, along with your uniforms. Are these not true statements, Lieutenant Jones?"
"They are true, for the most part, M'lord."
"Then I am curious how you find yourself 'not guilty' amid these clearly undisputed claims."
Killian spoke clearly, his voice never wavering, though the tremors of fear in his gut refused to let up. "The item the king seeks was not in the crate, sir. That was a ruse to force the Navy to send someone after us, to capture us."
Another ripple of low murmurs puddled through the crowd, slightly louder than the last time.
Admiral Covey leaned forward in his seat.
"And why on earth would you want to get caught, Lieutenant?"
Killian took a slow breath, preparing himself for the speech he had worked out only in his head so far. He was pleased to note that the king seemed a bit uncomfortable with his last statement. So far, so good.
"So we could ask the king, in person, why he would want to kill everyone in Misthaven, sir."
The room erupted in conversation, captains and officers talking back and forth animatedly, the king and and a few of the admirals looking almost sick. The First Lord banged his gavel sharply on the bench.
"Order! Order!"
The room fell silent once more. Admiral Covey turned to Killian.
"That is an extremely strong accusation, Lieutenant, one which this court will not tolerate. Kindly silence all further discussion on that topic. Do you have anything to say in defense of the charges against you or not?"
"Sir, I have proof, evidence that the king is indeed planning to wipe out Misthaven, as well as evidence that is manipulating this entire kingdom to go to war for him so he can steal lands that rightfully belong to others."
He barely finished his sentence before the deafening noise overpowered him, the banging of the First Lord's gavel lost in the roar of the crowd as they shouted to each other, to him, to the king, he couldn't even tell which, his head was spinning so badly. They may not have been guilty of desertion in the technical sense, but he knew he was now definitely defying the court's order, and that was a punishable offense. He was so nervous, shaking so violently he was sure his teeth were chattering audibly, but this was it, this was the end, their final moment. He just needed to hold on for a little bit longer.
"We want to see the proof!" shouted a vice-admiral from one of the higher benches.
The crowd seemed to agree with him.
"Order! We have warned you, Lieutenant, not to pursue this line of-"
"He's accusing the king! Let's hear him out!" The cry rang out around the room, echoed by a few other officers interrupting the Admiral. The king seemed just as scared as Killian felt, which he found oddly reassuring. If James was scared, he was doing something right. He felt for his pocket, for the gloved dreamshade that rested there, his other hand reaching blindly for Emma's fingers, which he found immediately. She squeezed his hand tightly, and he didn't let go.
"The proof is here," he called out, pulling the dreamshade from his pocket. "Inside this glove is the most deadly poison in all the realms, known only to the three of us, and somehow, King James. He intends to use this poison to kill everyone in Misthaven and claim it as his own. Isn't that right, Your Highness?" He carefully shook the tiny branch of dreamshade onto the tabletop in front of him, the ominous thorns leaking a steady trickle of sticky blackness.
No one spoke, it seemed as if no one even breathed, they all looked at him and King James. The king seemed as if he wanted to bolt from the room but, to his credit, he stayed put. He coughed slightly, then addressed Killian directly.
"You're sadly mistaken, Lieutenant. That is a medicine, an herb we wished to use to bolster our own army, to save company men from dying in battle."
A low murmur started up again, and all but disappeared when Killian responded. "With all due respect, Your Majesty, if that were true, perhaps you'd like to demonstrate it on yourself?"
James went white. The room was silent, everyone watching, waiting, wondering what would happen next.
The king forced out a laugh.
"That's a tiny branch, Lieutenant. Do you really think we can kill an entire land with just one cutting of... whatever that may be?"
"No," Killian said, holding tightly to Emma's hand, borrowing her strength to keep going, for he had none of his own left anymore. "You didn't want the branch. You were looking for something else, a way to find more. But this particular type of poison is found only in one place, a place you cannot reach without a magic bean. So you sent us searching for the one thing that could get you there, in order to have unlimited access to the dreamshade."
Killian turned to Emma, who had already unclasped her cloak. He reached between the linings and grasped the sail, pulling it hard to release it. He turned back to the Board, to the King, Admirals, and officers who were watching him, their eyes wide, and he shook out the sail, unfolding it completely for all to see.
A gasp went up in the crowd as the sail took flight, lifting higher and higher into the room, Killian's hold on it all that was keeping it from flying away altogether.
"The Pegasus sail." He couldn't help the smile on his face as he watched the crowd, everyone silent, eyes mesmerised by the mythical sail hovering in the middle of the courtroom. The whispers started quietly, growing slowly in volume and number as more joined in. They exclaimed in wonder at the sail's existence, that it really did fly, and then quickly turned to talk on the king's action and intention.
"Silence! SILENCE!" ordered the Admiral loudly, but no one heard him anymore, no one paid any attention to him.
"Why did you need the poison, Your Highness?"
"Just how many of them were you planning to kill?"
"We want answers!"
King James stood and slammed his hands down on the table.
"ORDER!" he shouted.
The room quieted, and Killian felt a nervous fluttering creep slowly up his belly into his chest. He tugged the sail, pulling it in and wrapping it in his arms as it slowly settled to the ground.
"It was a last resort!" the king shouted. "It was to end this war! Is this what you want, to keep fighting an enemy that doesn't give up? To lose soldiers, sailors, our men, our people, to their war? The poison was meant to stop them, to stop the fighting, to save our land!"
"Not like this!" Killian yelled back. "We fight our enemies, but we fight fair!" He turned to the crowd, no longer addressing King James. "Serving this king, fighting his wars, that is the way of dishonour, that's not what we signed up for when we joined the Navy, none of us!" He was shouting to the captains in the gallery, the vice-admirals and admirals of the dais, anyone who would listen. "This king is corrupt and immoral, and I, for one, will not stand for it. The time has come for James to answer for his crimes!"
Chaos erupted just then, captains and officers stormed the court, calling for the arrest of the king, the admirals on the board, and other high ranking officers of the armed forces. Killian sank back exhausted, barely able to stand as he watched. Emma and Liam moved beside him, their hands holding him up. All the energy and strength he'd forced himself to fake had gone into his speech, and now he was left with nothing.
"You did it, Killian," Emma said in his ear. "You did it."
He couldn't answer, didn't know what to say even if he could, he just nodded weakly, his brother's arm slipping under his as he nearly collapsed under his own weight. "Let's go, brother," Liam said softly, his voice still hoarse.
Somehow, they made it outside, somehow they managed to grab a set of keys from one of the guards and free themselves of their shackles, and somehow they found horses unattended outside, the events just blurred in the periphery of Killian's awareness. Liam helped him mount, but he was too tired to sit up on his own. He vaguely felt Emma climb on in front of him, barely heard her call out, "hold on," before they were off, his hand looped tightly around her waist, his head resting against her shoulder. He didn't know how far they rode, he didn't know how long it was, but eventually they came to a stop somewhere in the forest, his brother's arms helping him off the horse to sit on the ground, propping him up against a fallen log.
"Killian?" Liam whispered, his hand lightly tapping his face.
He blinked up at him. "It's over, Liam," he managed to force out. He was so weary.
"Yes," Liam replied with a smile. "It's over. I'm proud of you, little brother."
"Younger," he whispered automatically, a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth.
"Younger," agreed Liam. "I need to get you cleaned up, Killian."
He nodded, not really sure what that meant, not really sure of anything that was going on. He vaguely felt his brother removing his shirt, something wet and cold sponging at his bruised chest. He remembered gasping as a cloth was wrapped tightly around his broken ribs, the sharp pain of each breath softened somewhat by the added stability of the bandage. He definitely didn't remember remounting the horse, though somehow he must have, because when he next opened his eyes, it was night and they were in a new stretch of wood, a campfire burning low. He was stretched out on a blanket, Emma's fingers threading gently through his hair.
"Hey," she murmured softly. "How are you feeling?"
"Tired," he croaked. "Where are we?" He struggled to roll over, to sit up, but every movement sent shocks of pain through his chest and his head reeling.
"Lie still," she said. "We're almost at my parent's castle, in Misthaven." A cup was brought to his lips and he managed to sip some cool water from it before lying back. He fell asleep almost immediately.
When he woke the next morning, Liam and Emma were nearly finished packing up. He struggled to sit up, arm wrapped tightly against his bruised chest.
"Well, well, well," Liam said, tying a bundle to his horse's saddle, "look who finally decided to wake up."
Emma just grinned as she sat beside him on the ground. "Think you're up to ride sitting up today? We're only a few hours away." Ah, right, he remembered. They were headed to Misthaven, to meet the King and Queen, her parents. He was suddenly scared to meet them, the family of the woman who had so thoroughly stolen his heart. What would he say? What would they think of him?
He forced himself to smile back at her. The throb in his head was mostly gone and, while his chest still hurt, it wasn't that bad. "Aye." She helped him to his feet.
Liam tossed him a knot of bread as he passed. "Glad you're awake, brother," he said, his voice almost back to normal.
"Try not to get us lost, eh?" he smirked back. "These vessels don't run on ocean currents."
"Actually, your Princess is captaining this trip," Liam replied, pulling up onto his saddle.
Killian looked at Emma, who blushed as she sat astride the horse. "Come on up, sailor," she said, extending her hand to him. "I'll show you how it's done." He laughed as he climbed up behind her, laughed again as her hair tickled his nose as he held her tightly. It was over, the stress of the last few days were finally over, and they had managed to end a war in the meantime. He had just talked down a king, exposing his crimes for all to judge, and he was nervous about meeting her parents?
She twisted in her seat to look at him. "What's so funny?"
"Nothing, love," he said with a smile, kissing her cheek briefly. "Nothing at all. Shall we?"
They rode off toward Misthaven.
"And so, the two lands were once again reunited as one under King David and Queen Snow White. King James chose exile over imprisonment, and he was banished to the far-off Southern Isles, never to return. Liam Jones was promoted to Vice-Admiral of the Royal Navy for his service to both countries, and the younger Jones was given command of the Jewel of the Realm in his new capacity as Captain.
"Princess Emma and the new Captain Jones were wed within the year, and soon had two wonderful children - a girl and a boy. And they all lived happily ever after. The end."
Killian hugged the two children on his lap and then gently nudged them off the chair. "Now into bed with you two," he said. The little ones bounded across the floor and slipped under their covers as he stood and went over to his son's bed.
"What did you think of the story, little man?" he asked as he fixed the blanket around the boy's shoulders.
The child yawned wide. "It was ok, Papa," he said sleepily, "but next time could you add in some pirates? I like pirates."
Killian laughed softly. "Anything for you, my boy." He kissed the lad's dark curls and stroked his cheek, then went across the room to his daughter.
"Papa, can I ask you a question?" she whispered, her blue eyes sparkling in the soft lamplight.
"Of course, m'lady." He sat on the bed beside her as she flashed him a bright smile. She loved being referred to as a lady.
"Why did the Lieutenant trust the Princess in the first place?" she asked. "I mean, she just hit him on the head. Why would he even listen to her story?"
Killian looked up to the doorway where Emma had just arrived to say her goodnight to the children. He smiled at her, and she to him, her beauty magnified somehow by the gentle swelling of her belly, where the newest little one grew.
He turned back to his daughter.
"Because," he said with a grin, "it seemed like a good idea at the time."
Later, in their own room, the children sleeping soundly down the hall, Killian slipped behind Emma and wrapped his arms around her. He nuzzled her ear, biting playfully as she rubbed her hands up and down his arms. She turned her head to kiss him, and his mouth was ready for her.
"Think we should tell them that it's a true story?" she asked into his cheek as they caught their breath. Seven years together and her kiss still had the power to make him feel like that young Lieutenant again, awestruck and completely off balance, though he'd playfully argue that he'd managed to become quite experienced in the meantime.
"I think they'll figure it out eventually," he replied, "or maybe let Liam tell them when gets back next month." He ran his hands around the swell of her stomach, feeling light jumps and kicks beneath his palms. It never failed to amuse him, being able to touch the movements of their unborn child.
She turned around then and reached her arms across his back, pulling him as close as she could with the littlest one intruding on their space. He slid his hands to her sides, dropping his head to plant a line of kisses on her neck.
"Ever regret not turning in the Yellow Beetle for prize money?" she murmured. She moaned softly when he hit that spot, where neck met shoulder.
Killian pulled back to look at her, and grinned.
"Not for a moment," he said sincerely. Her green eyes twinkled with her own smile. "Besides," he continued, "it was as I told you then. You're a far more valuable prize than that ship ever was."