Author's Note: Not getting much love for this fic... I wonder if it's because it's in first person...
Oh, well, my muse is obsessed, so I'm gonna continue for a while and see what happens.
When we finally stopped to rest, the castle was still a distant landmark, tall and proud and impossible. Exhausted and pained as he must have been, Killian seemed to notice my apprehension.
"You've nothing to fear, lass," he murmured against my neck, his words just slightly slurred. "King David is an honorable man, and we've crossed to his lands, now."
"King David," I said, fighting a hysterical giggle. "And what lands were we in before?"
"Why, the Evil Queen's, of course," he said as though everyone knew it.
"Of course," I muttered. I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose. I took a few breaths to try to calm myself.
"Though, she does contest this area," he mused when I made no reply. "There's still the odd incursion of black knights, but the king's patrols keep them mostly in their place. We should be able to rest a bit."
Killian slid not-quite-gracefully from the saddle and then leaned against a short wall surrounding a pen of sheep. I stared down at him for a moment, still dumbstruck by the ridiculousness of my situation. After a minute of mute panic, I slid down, too, rubbing feeling back into my aching backside.
"Well, you made decent time," came a warm, deep voice, accompanied by slow, even footsteps across the yellowing grass. "Oh, who's the lass?"
I turned around to find what could only be Killlian's older brother approaching from the farm house. The resemblance was striking.
"Liam," Killian said drowsily, cracking open one eye to look at the newcomer before rolling his whole head to look at me without moving his eyes. "This is Emma Swan. Miss Swan, may I introduce my brother, Liam."
Killian closed his eyes again.
Liam dipped his head in a shallow bow.
"Miss Swan," he said politely.
"It's Missus," I blurted out before I could stop myself. I closed my eyes for a second and silently cursed the reflex I'd picked up while Neal was in prison. It had helped keep would-be suitors at bay.
"Oh?" Liam said, his eyebrows raising. One of Killian's eyes cracked open again for a moment as the two brothers examined me. "And where is Mr. Swan, then?"
"Gone," I said, my face crumpling. I felt a heavy weight settle on my chest. I'd been separated from Neal before, but this seemed different.
"A widow," Liam said quietly, not really asking me. "My condolences, Mrs. Swan."
"I… Thank you," I whispered, my breath hitching.
"Why don't you come into the house and have a rest, lass?" Liam said.
My eyes went to Killian, who was still slumped against the low stone barrier. He lifted an eyelid again and nodded at me. Liam was already making his way back to the home, clearly content to leave his brother lying in the yard.
I followed the tall man up to the farm house. Inside, Robin and his men were already making themselves at home. I was introduced to a pretty brunette woman who turned out to be called Marian (of course) and her son Roland, a black-haired woman called Mulan (I had to bite down hard on my tongue), and some other people who either weren't story book characters or were from tales I hadn't read. I let Marian lead me upstairs to an attic bedroom and gratefully climbed into the bed.
.
In the morning, I was apparently still in Story Book Land. I awoke to Marian knocking on the door and announcing herself before coming into the room with her arms piled with cloth. I parted with my jeans and blouse reluctantly, realizing that I probably stuck out as badly as one of them would in the real world. Marian let me keep my boots, and I guess she'd sensed I would fight over it, because she had her little urchin steal my jacket while she was lacing my new corset.
I felt ridiculous in the dress, but it seemed to go over well with the male residents, based on the looks I got when I came down the stairs for breakfast. Killian in particular seemed impressed, though I couldn't say why I was so pleased with his slack-jawed ogling. I shouldn't care what any of them thought about my looks.
Breakfast was a simple affair. Eggs, ham steak, apples and boiled onions. I ate heartily, hungry after a day without food. When the meal was done, Marian gave a tour of the farm, her little boy bobbing along behind us as we walked past chicken coops and pig pens, fields and a large garden. There, she put me to work weeding as she checked through for items ready for picking. She filled a basket with ready vegetables and herbs, keeping up a steady chatter of simple, innocuous conversation.
I got the clear impression that she was keeping me away from the house while the menfolk decided my fate.
We made it back to the house around noon, and I did my best to help with making lunch. Neal had always been the one who cooked at home. I'd been the queen of take-out while he was in jail. But I peeled potatoes and chopped carrots and whatever else was asked of me. These people were feeding and clothing me without knowing a thing about me, so I figured the least I could do was shuck corn and snap beans.
After lunch, I snuck away from my well-meaning gaoler and followed the blue-eyed brothers up and over a small hill to a pretty little stream. They noticed me right away, one or the other glancing over his shoulder to check to see if I was still following as they tromped along. They seemed content to allow my presence, but weren't apparently overly worried about entertaining me.
I watched as they checked traps, tossing crabs and crayfish into their buckets or back into the river. Then Liam began fly-fishing, while Killian sat on the rocks, tying lures. He caught my eye and gestured with his head, as if silently inviting me over. I felt Liam's gaze on me as I moved to sit next to his younger brother.
Killian set me to work untangling fishing line and separating feathers and other flashy bits for lures. I worked without complaint. Growing up in orphanages and foster homes had given me a solid appreciation for people who were genuinely welcoming. I was happy to help out how I could in payment of their hospitality.
The brothers made small talk while they fished, mostly bantering about skill (though in Killian's case, it was all talk, since he was injured and couldn't prove otherwise). Liam caught Killian up on local gossip, but I didn't really care about how many piglets the sow had or if the still was almost complete. Any time the conversation turned remotely serious, one of the men would look at me, and then they'd change the subject.
Once the buckets were full of squirming, splashing river creatures, the brothers reset their traps and lead me back to the house. I helped with dinner, tending mostly to the vegetables again, since I had no skill or interest in cleaning fish. After the meal, Marian escorted me back to the attic, and I climbed into bed.
And the pattern repeated itself for four days.
I kept myself busy and tried to keep my head down. I knew that my hosts were still deciding what to do with me. I'd overheard enough talk in the house to figure out that the kingdom was more or less at war with its neighbor. Some of the locals seemed to think I must be a spy. I was certainly keeping secrets, which I'm sure didn't help. But I didn't know enough about the world to lie when they asked me questions like, "where are you from?" so I stayed silent. I overheard one of the men one day say they'd sent someone up to the castle, though I wasn't sure if that had anything to do with me.
I spent most of my time with Marian or Killian. Mornings in the gardens, afternoons by the stream, my days started to have a pattern to them that made me feel more comfortable.
On the third day, Killian approached me after lunch.
"Lass," he said by way of greeting. "Will you help me with the buckets? Liam has some business and I'm not sure I can manage them one-handed."
I nodded my assent and took up one of the long poles with little ridges at either end for buckets. Once we were at the stream, he showed me how to check and empty the basket traps. We took some of the small crayfish and crabs for bait, large ones went in the buckets, and those between were thrown back into the river. We set static fishing lines on bobbers, since I didn't know how to fly-fish at all, let alone without a reel, and Killian wasn't well enough to do it on his own.
"How do you feel?" I asked him.
He gave me a little grin.
"Like I had my ribs sliced," he said.
"How's the healing?" I asked, curious about potential infection. "Can I see?"
He inhaled sharply at my request, but nodded, carefully unbuttoning his shirt. He tugged it a little clumsily down his shoulder, and I caught a little flash of white as I tried to help. He didn't flinch away from my touch so much as freeze under it, and when I realized what the white streak was, I froze, too. I couldn't help but rise up and scoot around him to follow the line of shiny scar tissue that started on his shoulder and continued into a criss-crossed pattern that disappeared beneath his shirt. He offered no resistance when I tugged the fabric down to reveal the extent of the damage.
As a girl, I'd once shared a room with a girl who'd been brutally caned. I'd seen her scars each time she changed, though she always hid them when she was in public. The man who'd caned my roommate had been sent to prison.
Killian's scars were different, but there were similarities, too, so I could imagine what had caused them. He shivered under my touch, and I knew it was probably rude, but I couldn't stop my fingers from tracing the marks on his back. He allowed my exploration, making no comment, though his breathing seemed to have sped up. When I finished my inventory of his back, I moved around to examine the wound on his ribs. It looked much better in the light of day than it had swollen and bleeding on the side of the road. There didn't seem to be any signs of infection. The skin wasn't angry or hot, and the wound was sealing back together without needing stitches. His shoulder was swollen, but not overly so, and the bruises were already fading. The thin strip of one of his back scars peeked over his shoulder, a pale line cutting through the darker spots.
"Who—" I said, my finger on the silvery line. I clicked my teeth together before I could ask the rest of the question.
"The flogging, I assume?" he said lightly. "I didn't stop to get the name of the black knight that slashed my ribs, I'm afraid, and the shoulder I managed to do on my own."
I chuffed softly and he took my hand off his shoulder, folding my fingers in his.
"I heard you met the man who painted my back," he said carefully. "The Dark One himself. Rumpelstiltskin."
I shuddered at the name and Killian drew me closer to him, misunderstanding my reaction. It wasn't fear that caused the shaking, really, just a visceral denial at the idea that the man could really be the fairy tale imp. I'd seen the resemblance myself, and damn it all if Neal hadn't told me years ago that his father had been Rumpelstiltskin. We'd both been drunk, and I hadn't believed him, but in that moment beside the stream, it felt real, and it made me crack.
Killian's arms tightened around me and he scooted forward to bring me even closer to him, until I was basically sitting in his lap. It felt oddly right, so I let Killian crush me against his chest, and I leaned against him, taking a rare moment to be vulnerable.
"Your… husband," Killian said softly. "You were thinking of him?"
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
"Was it Rumpelstiltskin that killed him?" he asked, and I couldn't think of anything to say that would make sense, so I just nodded to that, too.
"I'm sorry, lass," he said into my hair, rocking me gently.
I pressed my cheek to the fur of his chest and let the tears come. I hadn't felt helpless in a long time. Not when I was on the streets, not when I was alone and Neal was in prison, but in that moment, I felt completely alone and out of my element. The only thing that seemed real was Killian's warm embrace, so I clung to him and let myself fall to pieces.
He held me tight, murmuring soothing words and stroking my hair and back. He allowed me to cry until I was gently hiccuping and sighing in his arms.
With my cheek pressed to Killian's chest, I could hear his heart, steady and strong. As my sniffles ebbed and my breathing evened, his pulse accelerated with each puff of my hot breath against his skin. I soon had very clear evidence that Killian enjoyed having me in his arms.
He offered no resistance when I pulled away, though I saw he was blushing. Even the tips of his ears were bright red. He cleared his throat and turned away.
I found it strangely endearing.
.
Liam was still gone the following day, so I accompanied Killian out to the stream again. He insisted on trying to show me how to fly-fish, despite my protests, and I found myself standing in the river with my skirts hiked up and Killian standing very close behind me, his good arm guiding mine as I tried to cast the line into the water without the aid of a reel. I didn't manage to catch anything, but I spent the afternoon laughing and cursing with a rather attractive young man, so it seemed like a good trade. I began to feel a sense of belonging. I still wanted to get back home, but I didn't feel quite as much of an outsider while I was being helpful on the farm.
On the morning of the fifth day, Liam returned, riding like hell out of the woods and up over the hill. I rose from where I'd been squatting in the garden and watched as he slid down from his mount, barely giving the stable boy a second glance before striding across the lawn to the house. After a tense, quiet lunch with the notable absence on two blue-eyed brothers, Liam had someone fetch me to a small study on the second floor of the farm house. He was seated at the desk when I arrived, and I was uncomfortably reminded of what I'd felt when I'd been young and sent to the principal's office. As I entered the room and he frowned at me.
"Please sit… Mrs. Swan," he said, gesturing to a chair opposite the desk.
"I think I'd rather stand," I replied, feeling fidgety and wound-up by his demeanor.
He frowned again but nodded, scratching his beard for a moment.
"Are you from Regina's kingdom, Emma?" he asked in a quiet tone.
I sighed and rolled my eyes, crossing my arms over my chest.
"I already told you I'm not," I said huffily.
"Then where are you from?" he pressed, his expression staying open.
I sighed in frustration.
"I can't explain it, okay?" I said. "I don't know how I got here, but I'm from somewhere far away."
He grimaced at me in clear frustration.
"Do you have anything to prove that you are not from Regina's kingdom?" he asked.
"Like what?" I said.
"Papers, a signet?" he asked, his eyebrows furrowing as he looked at me as though he were concerned for my safety.
"No," I said.
Liam's shoulders slumped as he say back.
"What's going on?" I asked, taking a step toward the desk.
"Rumpelstiltskin has claimed you are one of Regina's subjects and demanded your return by the turn of the moon or he says they are prepared to invade David's lands and take you by force," he said in a low, even voice.
"What?" I hissed.
"If you cannot prove his claim is false, then we have no choice," Liam said. "Regina's kingdom is a sovereign country. There are treaties that must be enforced to maintain the strained peace between our realms."
I stared at him with my jaw dropped open for a moment before I found my voice.
"So, you're just going to hand me over, then?" I asked darkly, fighting the familiar tendril of abandonment and betrayal that I thought I'd long-since buried deep.
"Of course not," he said at once, making a dismissive gesture. "I had just hoped there might be a simpler solution than…"
"A simpler solution than what?" I asked warily.
Liam licked his lips as he eyed me from head to toe.
"There is a way to make you an official subject of this kingdom and shelter you in King David's protection," he said carefully.
I could feel the other shoe hanging in the rafters, waiting to be dropped.
"Yeah," I said after a moment, "what's that?"
"You'll need to marry a local resident," he said, and I felt my spine go stiff.
"No," I said at once.
Liam frowned, and then he forced his face back into a neutral expression.
"The choice is yours, I suppose," he said. "Either you marry and become a servant of this nation's crown, or I must present you to the black knights in five day's time to prevent war. Mark my words, Emma Swan, I will deliver either you or a license proclaiming your marriage. Your choice."
I shook my head.
It was ridiculous.
"And just who would I be marrying?" I demanded, reaching for anger to wrap myself in. "You?"
"Of course not," he said again, scoffing at me.
"Then who?" I shot back, leaning forward.
"My brother, Killian," he said.
My jaw dropped again. The younger man's shy smile came easily to my mind. If it had to happen, then—
"But I don't want to get married!" I protested, banishing confusing thoughts. "And what about Killian? Have you even asked him what he thinks about this whole debacle?"
"Killian will do what's he's told," Liam declared. "And so will you, unless you'd prefer to be sent to the Dark One."
I couldn't believe what he was saying. I stared at him, speechless again for another moment.
"I want to talk to him," I choked out finally.
"Of course," Liam said, blinking. He nodded his head in a way that made me think he was certain I'd decided to go along with this ridiculous charade. "He's waiting for you by the river."
Liam waved me off and turned to begin reading through a stack of papers. I stared at him for a long moment before spinning around and mechanically putting one foot in front of the other, stumbling down the stairs and across the lawn. I walked without really thinking about anything until I found myself cresting the hill that separated the farm from the little stream.
Killian looked up as I tromped my way toward him.
"Did you know that your brother wants us to get married?" I demanded bluntly.
"Aye," he said, looking down for a moment. "I know that."
He seemed so calm.
"Come on," I said, "a man like you… I mean, isn't there someone else you're, uh, interested in?"
He looked blank for a moment.
"No," he said simply. "I haven't much to offer a lass, so there haven't been many who've expressed interest in me."
He smiled self-deprecatingly.
I stared at him in absolute shock.
"You don't have any objections?" I asked when I finally found my voice.
"Why should I?" he said with a half shrug. "I know the reasons for it. It seems an amenable solution to the problem at hand."
I opened and closed my mouth for a moment. I was sure I must look like a fish.
"Does it bother you that I'm not a virgin?" I blurted out, grasping at straws.
"Well, no," he said, his ears tinting pink again, "as long as it doesn't bother you that I am."
He grinned when my jaw fell open.
"I suppose at least one of us should know what we're doing," he said, managing a wink despite the color on his cheeks.