Disclaimer: I own none of the characters. I can't even imagine what I would do with Hook if I did ;)
I'm only a man with a candle to guide me.
~Imagine Dragons
Killian steels his nerves. He doesn't even know why he's nervous! It's not like he even remotely likes this Emma lass! She's obnoxious and jumped off a tower to escape him, and wasted his rum.
NO ONE wastes his rum.
But none the less, here he is, standing in front of her door like a bloody schoolboy. He stiffens and raises his hand to knock, decides not to, and starts to walk away. A gentle breeze pushes him back. He scowls and knocks on the door, gently calling, "Lass? Lass are you up yet?"
Nothing.
He sighs in relief before he hears a sleepy,but stern voice say, "Yes. Go away."
He almost smiles. He almost does! But he swallows again and says, "I have something I would like you to see, love."
"Don't call me that."
"What?"
"Don't call me 'love'. I'm not your love. I'm the girl you kidnapped."
"I DID NOT- you know what, whatever. If you look past your humongous ego, I think you'll like what I have for you."
"Do you have any idea how creepy you sound?"
"Do you have any idea how obnoxious you are?"
"Better to be obnoxious than to be a kidnapper."
"Better to be a kidnapper than a spoiled brat."
"Too bad you're both, then."
Killian growls.
After she had thanked him and left last night, he had sat in an awe-like state for hours, thinking. As he thought, he thought of her. What did she like? What did she dislike (besides him)? What was she good at? What was she bad at? After hours of pondering, he had decided what he thought she might like. So he and the staff had spent the entire night- or what was left of it- creating, cleaning, beautifying. He had almost felt hypocritical, standing and helping to make it beautiful, when he himself was so hideous. But he had merely grit his teeth and continue to work with the wind.
Ultimately he had gone to bed proud, for the first time in forever.
So here he is now, standing in front of her door, trying to offer her an apology of sorts, yet she was stubbornly refusing what he had to give her.
Killian ins't positive, but he's almost sure that she's the spoiled brat in this scenario.
He knocks again.
"Whaaaaaaat?!"
"Lass, I demand you open up!"
"I demand you go away."
"Open up!"
"Shut up!"
"Oh, for the love of- just open up already!"
"And why should I?"
He growls. "Try something new, Darling: it's called 'trust'."
He hears her voice, very close to the door, very close to him.
"Screw. You."
After a moment, however, he hears her say, "Give me a moment; I'm indecent."
"You're decent enough for me," he says impatiently, before he hears her scuffling stop, and realizing what he said. "No, I- no, that's not-no."
He's not sure, but he's pretty sure he hears her call him a creep.
Creep is better than monster, at least.
After a moment the door opens, and despite his resolve to hate the lass, he feels pity take over him. She stands in front of him in the clothes she's worn the entire time she has spent here. Her hair is a nest, her eyes overly large on her pale, malnourished face. She is still quite beautiful, but her pitiful state she appears more the ugly duckling than the graceful swan.
He feels her feel his pity, and watches as she visibly stiffens. "I don't need your pity," she snarls.
"No, no, of course not," he replies quickly. "And none you shall get." He pauses and contemplates her. "However," he muses aloud. "What you shall get is a new change of clothes."
"I already told you; no pity."
"And I already told you; you won' t get any from me. New clothes has nothing to do with pity." He crinkles his nose that has long since lost it's capability of smelling. "It has to do with your stench."
She scowls, bringing his attention to her face. Stained with dirt and water streaks and is that some lake vegetation in her hair? For a moment he thinks, She tended to me before she tended to herself, but he immediately dismisses the thought.
The lass is still scowling.
He sighs. "Stay here a moment."
He turns down the hall, down the stairs, down some more stairs, and reaches his bed chambers. He clenches his jaw and rifles through his drawers. Pushing aside his clothes-though he would mind her in his clothes- he reaches for a plain blue blouse and white skirt. Milah's.
He sighs and goes back to the girl.
When he reaches her, she's staring at him suspiciously. "What?" he demands as he hands her the clothes.
"It took you awhile to get to your room and back."
"Yes, lass; there's quite a distance between us."
She doesn't say anything, then glances at the clothes. "Women's," she says almost disdainfully.
He shrugs and smirks, feeling like she's just driven a knife into his gut and twisted. "What can I say, love? I enjoy myself a good cross-dress every once in a while."
She rolls her eyes, before slamming the door and walking back out the door. She stares at him expectantly.
"What?"
"Lead the way," she gives a mocking salute. "Captain."
...
Emma feels her mind reel as the walk in silence down the endless hallways. What was he planning to do to her? Why did she agree to go with him? She swallows and steps a bit farther away from him. The Voice.
The Voice looks at her. "My dear, we've arrived, and I would very much enjoy blindfolding you; a surprise is all about show, you know." He winks. Emma glares. She hates the Voice.
Before she can stop him, he's behind her, tightening a cloth around her eyes. Her mind goes into overdrive. "What are you doing?! Get AWAY from me, you slimy, vindictive, terrible, mon-"
The blindfold is removed, and she sucks in her breath.
Books.
Hundreds
No thousands
MILLIONS
of books.
It's quite beautiful. She walks in a daze towards a case of old spines facing her. She traces the spines like she's never seen one before.
She had, in fact, seen many.
Back in town, she had been a bit of an odd ball. She read books instead of going to the bar with Baelfire. She read books instead of talking to the townsfolk. She read books instead of facing the harsh reality that is life.
She and David love reading.
"Lass...are you alright."
She turns to the sound of the Voice's...well, voice, and snaps, "Of course I'm alright. I'm obviously all right; these tears are just because I have a stick in my eye, obviously."
He nods and watches her as she turns back to her library.
...
Killian doesn't know if she likes it. She had looked surprised, certainly, but then she had cried! Why would she cry? Books aren't sad, are they? So he watches her, tyring to figure her out.
She catches him watching and scowls. He quickly gets up and walks to a certain book case holding a certain book. He grabs it, dusts it off, walks back to her, and holds the book out.
She reaches for it.
He pulls it out of reach.
She-of course- scowls.
"A game, princess," he says lightly. "A library for a name."
"Don't you have your own name?"
"Ah-ah," he chides. "Your name." He holds the book out again, just out of grasp. "A library," he gestures grandly, "for a name."
She scowls. After a moment, she says stubbornly, "Swan."
"Swan?"
"Yes."
"Your first name is Swan?"
"No."
"Well, what is it?"
She smiles. "That wasn't part of the deal. A name for a library. I have given you a name," she smiles wider, but still without too much joy, "and I now have a library."
She grabs the book from his awkward hands and walks away with a smirk. The smirk is his thing. But she has already walked out of the room, wearing it like she owned it.
He stares after her in something dangerously close to awe.
A/N:
SOSOSOSOSOSO SORRY MUNCHKINS! D: I really am sorry for abandoning you, but I've had a really busy week.
Oh the joys of being a teenager.
Anyway, SHORT STORY:
Someone asked me, "What's a fandom?"
I said, "Do you remember the trolls from Frozen?"
ANYWAY, you guys are the best, and I am SO SO SO SO sorry for that wait, but please R&R :)
Love you guysssss :) 3
Hugs and Kisses and Things Dangerously Close to Awe,
~Mrs Killian Jones: Pureblood