So, it's been a year since I published the prologue of this (thank you BlueDream for pointing it out!), and I really want to thank everyone who has been reading and enjoying this story. I'm a slow writer, and your support and patience are amazing. Writing White Light has been a labor of love, and while it's nearing it's end, I think we still have another 4 or so chapters after this new one.
I would have loved to post a really happy chapter to commemorate the anniversary... But that's just not in the cards. Try not to hate me, and trust that I have a plan. I've known the ending of this fic since I started writing it, and hope that it will be worth the journey. That being said, I will also vow to update this by the end of next week at the latest, even if it means staying up all night to do it, because while trusting me is great and all, it would be cruel to leave it here for another 2 months!
Lastly, I'm also posting this on tumblr (onceuponataarna)and AO3 (TaarnaT), so feel free to follow it there if you prefer.
Warnings: things take a dark turn in this chapter, with dub con sex (that is not between Killian and Emma) and voyeurism.
XXVI.
Killian sat on a fallen log, huddled against the early morning's chill in his thick leather coat. He now knew how he would free emma and, in doing so, free himself from the ghost of his brother. Liam's murder had too long tormented him, and he would be glad to finally have his revenge and be rid of the burden at last. The long wait ashore would be tedious; the Jolly was not set to return until two nights hence, and without a way to contact Smee, there was nothing to do but sit and ponder all that had happened to bring him to this point. He had changed so much in the last 15 years, from an earnest young lieutenant in the Leinster navy, to a lost young captain, to a lover, and then to the loneliest man in all of the kingdoms- until he had met his savior. Gods, this journey had started when he kidnapped her, but it was she who had stolen his heart in the end. Emma had done what no other could, and reminded him of the man he once was.
He wanted more than anything to steal back into the castle to hold her and have his wicked way with her again, but he knew the risks were too great. They had been fortunate to have one undiscovered night together. He dared not chance it a second time, no matter how he longed to do so. Sinking John's ship would come to pass soon enough, and with no survivors- and therefore no witnesses- there would be no way for either him or Emma to be implicated. He only needed to be patient.
The day passed maddeningly slowly, despite his efforts to stay alert. Keeping to the secluded inlet where he was to meet his crew, he eventually welcomed dusk, eating a small meal of bread and dried meat as he allowed himself to indulge in a few visions of what his future could be. When sleep finally claimed him, his dreams were of sailing the seas with his princess by his side.
Emma awakened late the morning after Killian's visit to a familiar ache between her legs that made her smile. She had missed being with him even more than she'd realized and wished more than ever that she had the freedom to run away impulsively. Were she able to, she'd abandon her responsibilities and simply leave with her love, but the hope she now knew was more than enough to give her the courage to play her part and keep up appearances. Having witnessed his ferocity at sea firsthand, there was no doubt in her mind that Killian would succeed, and they would be together soon.
Fighting to keep her giddiness contained, she dressed and went about her day as if nothing was amiss, smiling graciously and finding her duties considerably less trying now that she knew they were but temporary inconveniences. She dismissed talk of some sort of security breach outside her room, suggesting that it had been most likely related to the guards' personal lives. As far as anyone knew, nothing had been stolen and she had been quietly sleeping all night, innocently unaware of any altercation.
When the day was finally done and she was alone in her bedroom, Emma stared out her window as night fell, hoping Killian was looking up at the same sliver of moon in the sky and counting the hours until they could be together again.
A whirlwind of activity woke her the next morning, her attendants practically hauling her bodily out of the bed to clean and dress her. It took mere moments to understand the reason why: King John had returned to Leinster and was on his way to the castle, ready to meet his bride and make their marriage official. She allowed them to treat her like little more than a child's doll as they prepared her for her presentation, her mind reeling as it tried to cope with the horrific turn of events. Killian awaited the Jolly Roger's return, expecting to end her marriage with a few well-aimed cannonballs, and yet her royal husband was instead here in the kingdom. Any attempt on Killian's part to steal her away now would be suicide, and any indication of rejection or unfaithfulness on her part would be considered treason.
Asking for a minute alone to compose herself before meeting the king, Emma stared at her reflection in the mirror. They had dressed her in a flowing gown of white and gold, braiding her flaxen hair into a crown atop her head and adorning her neck and wrists in gold and diamonds until she looked every inch the royal bride she was born to be. Though it was not a marriage borne of love, she wished for a moment that her parents could be there with her nonetheless, lending her their suport and chasing away her fears with their belief in her ability to triumph over any situation, even one so seemingly hopeless.
Finally composed enough to face her fate, she lifted her head high, pulled open the suite's doors, and strode determinedly to meet her husband, refusing to show fear or weakness. As she entered the throne room, she saw John for the first time, his head snapping up as his eyes met hers. For a man with such a fearsome reputation and a history of unforgivable deeds, his appearance was startlingly unimposing. He was in his mid forties, chocolate brown hair sprinkled with a dusting of grey at the temples. His olive skinned face was clean-shaven but handsome, with dark eyes that crinkled at the corners and would seem deceptively kind, were it not for the emptiness behind them. Rising from his throne, he climbed down from the dais to meet her, dropping to his knees and kissing her hand in greeting.
"Emma, princess of Sylvania, rumors sing your many praises but they fall far short! It is a joy to meet you at last. I apologize for my absence, but rough weather delayed my return to you. I trust that your time in your new home has been pleasant." He rose and held out his arm for her to take, escorting her out of the throne room as he continued to speak. "I know that this ararngement has been one of political, rather than romantic, origins, but I must admit, I find your beauty remarkably enchanting, and am quite pleased that I shall be able to call a woman of such commanding presence my queen."
Emma gave him a weak smile, bowing her head gently. "It is I who am pleased, my King, to have such a handsome and attentive husband. I hope our union can secure peace between our two kingdoms, and that our marriage can become one of more than simple alignment."
He turned his head in her direction, eyes darting to her breasts before meeting her own. "I have no doubt that it will, my lady. Now, I have arranged for us to take our vows in the chapel, followed by a grand celebration in the main hall, and the consummation after. By tonight's end, you will be the Queen of Leinster." Bowing formally, he escorted her into the chapel, where a serious, elderly minister awaited them. Emma noticed several of the higher ranking knights and nobles standing in attendance, obviously there as witnesses to the royal marraige ceremony. She briefly wondered, with some concern, if all of these people would also be witnessing the bedding, but was pulled from these thoughts as the minister began his oration. It took mere minutes for the vows to be spoken, and with the slide of a golden ring on her finger, she was officially married.
King John continued to be the very model of a polite monarch, though the longer she watched him the more she knew that it was mostly for show. He seemed pleased with her, for certain, but when she felt his eyes on her, it was with a look of hunger and possession, rather than affection. She was essentially a spoil of war, the equivalent of a prize mare or a beautiful statue, albeit one that he would undoubtedly be taking his pleasure in that night and for many to come. It could be worse, she supposed, though a part of her would have found it easier if he'd been repellent and abusive. His curernt behavior made it almost too easy to forget the atrocities he was capable of and what kind of man she'd bound herself to.
The formal celebratory dinner was an affair of grandeur that easily eclipsed that of even the most lavish parties she had experienced in Sylvania. King John drank heartily, consuming cup after cup as his wealthiest subjects toasted him enthusiastically. Too nervous to eat more than a few fruits and a bit of cake, she watched as the guests feasted, noting with some concern the lascivious glances thrown her way by a few of the men. Clearly, they had been invited to witness the consummation, and while it was certainly a standard matter of protocol when royalty wed, she had never really allowed herself to think too hard on what would occurr that night.
She was no stranger to public displays of desire, of course. Emma felt her cheeks flush and her heart rate increase as she recalled Hook taking her on the deck of his ship, brazenly claiming her for all his crew to see. Though it had been a bit overwhelming at the time, she could only remember the pleasure of it now, the feeling of being wholly his, the envious stares of the other men making her feel wild and shameless as she enjoyed every slide of him deep inside her. If only it were Killian she were marrying, she wouldn't care a bit who saw them together, so long as he was the one taking her. She would gladly let the whole world see their passion for each other, if it could somehow make their forbidden affair official.
She felt John brush his fingers teasingly up her arm, a hint of a chuckle escaping his lips as he leaned from his throne towards hers. "Thinking of tonight, are we?" he whispered, making her head snap towards him. "That pretty blush makes your excitement more than obvious, my queen. Don't you worry, I'll be taking you upstairs soon enough." He squeezed her thigh firmly, before returning to his cup.
Killian didn't know what it was that alerted him to the change; perhaps he and Emma were so linked that he could sense her mood even over miles of wilderness. Whatever the reason, he decided to venture towards the castle on his last day ashore, perhaps hoping to catch a glimpse of her beauty before sailing away, only to discover the castle was a flurry of activity. Richly dressed nobles arrived in a parade of carriages, and servents ran to and fro, scurrying to accomplish their tasks in half the usual time. He quickly returned to his campsite, donning his stolen armor to better blend into the throng as he made his way back to the castle.
Arriving just as a lavish feast was commencing, he slipped into the halls as the guests began to drink the rich wine and gorge themselves on the extensive offerings. He sneered under his helm, disgusted that they would indulge in such excess when the common people were on the verge of starvation, but unsurprised at the extravagance. A few questions to a servant confirmed his worst fear: the king had returned and had married his lovely bride. As he circled the hall towards a rear vestibule, he saw Emma awaiting her grand entrance, and was struck dumb by her beauty. If she had been a goddess the other night, she was truly the queen of the gods today, wrapped in the finest fabrics, her long neck bared and draped in diamonds. For a moment, he nearly missed the presence of the king beside her, but Hook's vision went red as he saw the man responsible for his fall from grace with his arm possessivly wrapped around Emma's waist. The urge to charge forward and slit John's throat rose quickly, and he nearly gave into the impulse before remembering that to do so would be to damn Emma. She could be blamed for the King's death, or suspected of being otherwise involved, and he dared not risk her safety.
Taking one final look at her, he turned and sought out the King's quarters, killing the few guards left there with a quick flick of his dagger and stashing the bodies inside as he ducked behind the grand doors and surveyed the suite. Pondering his best course of action, he decided that John would most likely come back to his rooms to change and freshen himself before going to consummate his marriage, and so decided it best to wait in the luxurious bathroom, where the King would almost certainly be alone and where he could properly take his time.
Heart hammering in her chest, Emma allowed herself to be led back to her rooms, knowing what was to come. A small part of her hoped Killian would come save her at the last moment, swooping in and whisking her off to the Jolly, but she had seen no indication of his presence. Perhaps it was for the best, she admitted to herself. He would surely be killed if he were to attempt to rescue her now, and she couldn't bear the thought of him being executed. Given their history, she imagined that John would find a particularly torturous way of ridding himself of his longtime enemy, and shuddered to imagine what that might be.
No, she thought, it was better this way. He would know what had happened, of course, but he wouldn't ever blame her for what she had to do while she found a way to get back to him and after all she had already been through in her young life, Emma knew she would find a way to endure it. Playing the queen until he returned to kill John was something she could do; perhaps she would kill John herself, if the opportunity arose.
Her attendants removed her heavily embroidered gown and corset, leaving her in only her jewels and a thin silk chemise. She turned a nervous eye towards the gallery set up on the sides of the room, where chairs supported the select few deemed important enough to witness the consummation of the wedding. Behind the chairs, favored knights and squires stood, seeming far more interested in watching a beautiful woman being ravished than any greater importance of joining the kingdoms. John emerged from the suite's bathroom, having been undressed and readied in privacy, and gazed approvingly at her barely-clothed form. "This is one royal duty I am most happy to participate in," he stated loudly, earning him a laugh from the gathered audience. He reached out, caressing her hip through the sheer fabric before escorting her towards the bed. "I know you're no virgin, so I won't feel the need to go gentle with you,' he whispered with a quiet chuckle. "I plan to enjoy you thoroughly, and expect your eager compliance, so be sure to put on a good show for your new subjects."
Something was wrong. It was far too late for John to still be at the feast, and a brief glance out into the halls confirmed that the castle's guards were oddly absent in this area. A sudden jolt of terror coursed through him as Killian realized that the king must have returned to the bridal suite instead of his own, and all rational thought left him as he plopped on his helm and hurried to Emma's chambers, ignoring the chuckles of servants as he passed them by. He was waved into the room by the guards outside, who whispered he was "just in time for the good part" and passed through the doors, his mouth dropping open behind the polished steel that concealed his face as he saw the spectacle before him.
The grand bed was surrounded by an audience, the sheer curtains of the canopy doing little to truly hide what was about to happen. John was still wearing his shirt, but Killian watched as Emma's chemise was pulled over her head and carelessly tossed out the side of the bed, the action moving aside a portion of the curtain and exposing her fully to a section of the gallery. She seemed to move in an attempt to cover herself before John gripped her hands, pushing them aside. Torn between wanting to run from the room and vaulting over the audience to strangle the royal bastard right then and there, he remained frozen in horror, gathering the courage to move quietly around the room to where he could best see her face, unable to avert his eyes from what he knew was coming.
Emma stared up at the king, the sweet smell of wine on his breath as he braced himself over her, eyes roaming her form. "Gods, you're so perfect," he murmured to himself. "If only you hadn't been made a whore but that traitorous pirate..." he trailed off, hands following the path his eyes had taken as he palmed her breasts greedily. "It's no matter though. You're mine now, my queen, and I am going to enjoy taking what he once thought was his."
She averted her eyes from him, staring out the curtain into the room as he touched her, heart leaping into her throat when her eyes landed on a figure in the crowded gallery. She knew that armor. Oh gods, she knew it. A subtle nod nearly broke her, tears leaping to her eyes as she felt sorrow and shame wash over her. I'm sorry, she mouthed silently, subtly shaking her head in alarm when his hand instantly went to his sword. She begged him with her eyes, relaxing slightly when his tightly clenched fist slowly moved from the weapon. The steel-clad figure instead raised his hand and brought it to the area of the helm covering his mouth before placing it firmly over his heart, and she closed her eyes, knowing the situation they had both dreaded was impossible to avoid now and despairing anew at the tragedy of it all.
Distracted by Killian's presence, she startled when she felt John's hand pass between her legs, coating her in something slippery as he lined himself up. Knowing what was coming next, she opened her eyes to look towards the armored figure again, but thankfully he was already walking stiffly out the door, leaving the humiliating spectacle behind him before he had to see any more. Emma honestly didn't know if she could have endured him watching any longer, tears already threatening to fall at any moment; the idea that he would witness her being taken, however reluctantly, by another man was just too much.
Her relief lasted mere seconds, as John suddenly thrust into her, his groan of pleasure loud in her ears. "Gods," he grunted quietly, "oh, gods, you're tight." He began to fuck her in earnest, clearly enjoying every moment as he sped up his pace, and she could do nothing but bite her lip and close her eyes, hoping to hurry his orgasm along and make the ordeal as brief as possible. After several more humiliating minutes, she dimly felt the king still atop her, filling her with his seed, and she knew it was done. Killian was gone, and she was now John's queen.
