Chapter 9: The Trouble with Chickens

A/N - I can't believe the response I have had to this little scribbling of mine. I am truly honoured so many have taken time out of their day to read it and provide feedback.

Emma continued to tug on Killian's arm on their trip to the dining room, even though he was clearly following without resistance. Her hands hurt her still but her attention was fully diverted by her excitement at finally having a playmate.

Emma had been lonely. Mama and Papa always spent time with her, but they were very busy and were often called away and cut short the picnic or the archery lesson or whatever activity they had been sharing. She loved Johanna, but she was all about rules and 'mustn't do's'.

It was a peculiar happenstance that there was no other child near her age in the castle. She had asked her mother for a baby brother several times and even offered to forego any other presents for her rapidly approaching birthday if that would help sway matters in her direction. Her mother had only smiled and tried to distract her with a sweet or taking her for a ride on her pony. So far the desired sibling had not been forthcoming. In the exceedingly rare moments where Emma would sit still, she would ponder where she had gone wrong. Some times she would think that perhaps her mother had misunderstood the exact requirement and other times Emma thought she had failed to get across just how much she wanted a little brother. She would accept a baby sister if that was all that was on offer but Emma wasn't prepared to lower her demands in the negotiation just yet.

Killian and Liam weren't her brothers. They weren't babies to be dressed up, told stories and played with like she planned on doing with the baby brother she was going to get once she finally wore her mother down. In the interim; however, she had already decided that Killian was just the very one to be co-opted into all the adventures her busy little brain could come up with. For so long she had so much to share and no-one to share it with.
Emma would determinedly run roughshod over any notions that Killian might have that being a playmate to the Crown Princess was not a serious enough occupation for a young man intent on improving himself. There were so many places to play pirates and knights that it would take her months to show him them all, and that was just in the castle.

Emma didn't question the attachment she felt to Killian in the way an adult would. It had been sudden and only partly fuelled by her loneliness. She was still a little girl and despite the many times she had heard her parents' True Love story, it had not yet settled in her mind that she might have one of her own one day. She didn't have the experience to express in words the pull inside her chest the day she had looked out of the bakery window and into the eyes of the boy covered in coal dust. Her child's mind was not equipped to interpret the sort of feelings that suffused her heart in the moments she found herself absorbed in Killian's blue eyes. So, too young for even the most childish fancies of romance, Emma took those feelings into her heart on an instinctual level where they settled themselves into the fertile soil of her open and generous spirit. Here they would grow and mature at the proper time.

Until then, there would be friendship to foster, games to play and mischief to share . . . along with breakfast.

The youngsters skidded to a halt just inside the door of the dining room. Not because Emma finally heeded the many warnings Johanna had given her about running in this particular room, but because of the scene presented to them.

There was no breakfast set out on the table or the serving sideboard. No places had been set. No servants bustling back and forth from the kitchen.

But there were chickens.

"Look, Killian, it's the chickens from the market!" Emma exclaimed, and clutched excitedly at his arm. "Don't they look happy to be out of those cages, just like you wanted? Aren't they cute?" She let go of him and trotted over to pick one up and give it a cuddle. The chicken Emma had pounced on squawked indignantly as the little girl grabbed the bird unceremoniously by the neck and hugged it tightly to her chest, its feet dangling.

Killian gulped hard as he took in the birds that had made themselves comfy in the castle. Most of them had settled on the dining chairs. The King's chair at the head of the table seemed to be quite popular. There had even been a egg left for him.
"Killian?" Emma asked. She followed him as he walked over to the nearest window. He looked with trepidation out into the castle forecourt. Liberated chickens were everywhere and they looked to be causing chaos.

"You wouldn't think they'd head for the castle once they were out. You'd think they'd want to stay away from people," Killian mused, biting his lip. "Maybe run into the garden so they could scratch for worms?"

"Do you think they'll have baby chickens?" Emma asked, visions of herself with an armful of fluffy chicks making her smile dreamily. Unconsciously she squeezed the chicken she was holding a little tighter. It reacted badly and struggled to get free, but its talons caught in the bodice of her dress. "Stop it," Emma scolded, and made the mistake of letting go of the bird to reach for the feet and try to free them. The bird having lost the support of Emma's arms, panicked as it felt itself falling and flapped its wings wildly.

Killian managed to wrangle the bird under control and it protested loudly as Emma finally extracted the talons from her dress. Once Emma was free, Killian let the bird go and it took off and dived under the dining table in the desperate hope that it would be safe there from little girls with grabby hands.

"She scratched you," Emma observed, and reached a tender finger towards the gash under Killian's eye. He shied away from her touch, aware that however careful she was, it would hurt.

"Yes, better me than you," Killian said, gallantly. He could have blotted at it with Emma's handkerchief that he carried in his pocket, but he didn't want to get blood on it. Instead he tried to use his sleeve but only succeeded in smearing blood all over his cheek. "Stupid chickens," He muttered.

"But you're still glad they're free, aren't you?" Emma asked. "The man was cruel to keep so many all squashed up. That's what you said."

"Answer the Princess, Killian." Liam's tone of voice left no room for dissembling. Killian tore his gaze from Emma's to see his brother and Emma's parents had entered the room. He swallowed around the lump that had appeared in his throat. He wished he'd never set eyes on those darn chickens.