The fourth month

I am terrified and honestly too ashamed to admit it. We have been through so many things before, but cowering away in what used to be Zelena's storm cellar is far from the ideal any honorable man has of providing adequate shelter for his family. My fear is not in regards to the evil we fight today... I fear for my loves. This place is dank, humid and cold, not safe for my beautiful little boy by any standard, but far safer than what was our apartment, or any other property in the inner side of downtown Storybrooke.

If we thought Zelena was a formidable foe, this woman has to be the source of all evil.

Turns out the new foe's name is Jadis; She's a queen witch of another realm, one that, unlike my birthplace and the other realms, is easily traversed into through a wardrobe. The problem is, nobody knows where the bloody thing is and this frosty wench just turned Storybrooke into an ice cap. People are missing again and we normally find them around the corners, in the shape of stonecold statues.

Alas... my Emma saw her parents take such form.

We do hope that when we beat this new villain, they will revert, or I don't know what will become of my Swan's heart. In the meantime, we are looking after little Neal for them. Being the caring parents they are, they had us hide him and tried to reach shelter outside of Storybrooke, but sadly didn't make it: True to their loving fashion, David held his wife in his arms, covering her head with one hand and her body with the other, and hiding his face in her neck.

When we found them, it took me roughly four hours to get Swan to calm down enough to talk. She wept steadily that day and I felt helpless and a lesser man until she finally granted me a sad smile... but a smile nonetheless... and said "I don't know where I'd be without you and the boys, Killian...". I simply held her in my arms and wept with her, shared her burden. What else was there for me to do? Swords and cleverness are no match for the hailing breath of a sorceress whose only purpose is to eternally maintain the world around her frozen under the cold confines of her soulless heart.

I swear sometimes I feel so helpless... it aches my heart to see her fall apart, to see those beautiful green eyes sparkle, not with joy but with tears. I detest having to wipe those crystal liquid drops from her face and know that there is little else I can do at times other than to just hold her, love her and try to reassure her things will work out well, even when I myself have no assurance as to the veracity of my words. But I remian at her side, and that's what counts... being together. I'll fight for that till my dying breath, if need be.

And of course, this wretched, flatigious villain is mainly after the Royals to take over this realm as her own, so Regina is also in her sights; The Queen she's not here with us as of this time, so in spite of her resentment against Emma (it was an honest mistake and the darling woman meant well, for pity's sake...), we are concerned; especially Henry.

Anyone of royal blood is a target to her. That would also include Swan, Henry, Liam and Neal... and her taking them from me would be to rip my very heart and crush it.

So I'm currently the cowering husband of the village hero, who, alas, has also no clue as to how to defeat this injurious ice demon. My Emma is so burdened by her frozen parents that she has lost a little bit of faith in herself, something that ocurrs to her on ocassion but that can prove catastrophic to the use of her magic which, I know, could very well be the answer to everything. I, however, have not and will not ever lose faith in her; she is and always will be the savior and she'd sooner remember this, or we are all doomed. As always, only she can beat her and it is my duty to remind her of her inner strength and fire.

For the time being, I pray we're safe. Cold, hungry and with slightly broken spirits, but alive.

Liam has quite likely doubled in size and even when I fear for Emma's well-being, the only source of guaranteed food we have for our little boy is through her milk. Alas, my bride is thinning and we have few supplies left. We scarcely eat ourselves! It is dangerous to go looking for food during daytime, so at night we move around, raiding what used to be Storybrooke's main supermarket. So that is my main task... and much as I hate it, Henry's too. Stout lad that he is, he offered to join me in the night hunts for supplies. It kills my Swan every time, but even if she is the savior, someone has to remain and look after the little ones. The last thing I ever want to see is my precious loves turned into icy stone, to feel the sudden ripping of my very breath like she did, looking at the Charmings like they were some sort of museum piece... I have to say, even I felt broken hearted at the sight. David is my mate now, probably my only mate.

But in these dire times, we find a modicum of joy in our boys and the little attaché that is my wee brother in law. He will be well taken care of by us until his mother and father are back with us.

Liam has somehow learned to coo. He coos night and day and has turned out to be quite a talkative little chap. Not to mention he laughs all the time and at anything, which is wonderful and a much needed source of merriment! I can sort of fake nibble his little stomach and he'll have a giggling bout that will make all of us have bouts; whereas the sound of the waves crashing against the keel and hull of the Jolly Roger was once my favorite sound, it is now the sound of my four month old son's laughter that steals my heart and brings unparalleled joy to it. As for the babbling, Neal keeps him busy with that and gods know what they ramble about. Sometimes, the chats end up in tears when Liam grabs hold of Neal's hair and gives his uncle's tresses a solid tug. The lad is strong, I tell you, he took a hold of my earring the other day and were it not for the loose pin that holds it in place, he might have easily torn through my flesh with a single tug. All the same, it bled... Strapping young scoundrel! Why do I love you so, Liam Jones?

We're also at that stage where we have to be overly mindful of the things that go into his mouth, and that is just about everything: Buttons, hair, dirt, coins, keys, quills, his mother's sheriff badge... I swear the child is a beast when it comes to retrieving objects from any given surface available to him! Anything, he will pop it into his mouth. We have enough with a conniving witch to also be on the lookout for our little slot machine.

Oh to be a child! The blessed babes know little of the events that unfold in their wake and it is my only wish it remain so. I pray I am man enough to maintain isuch illusion so that neither they nor my lovely wife see their days shortened by the frost; Elsa's deeds were the result of her incapacity to control an otherwise odd gift, but her heart was not dark... But the baseness and injurious misery of this woman is beyond all conceievable evil I have ever witnessed; she simply wishes to submit us all to joining a kingdom of frozen statues.

And much as I will fight to prevent our demise, if it comes to us being submitted to slavery, I'd sooner pray for swift, painless death. Alas, please let my loves live!

Little Neal actually volunteers to clean up Liam's nappies with Emma. I swear that that little lad is as mellow and tender as little lads come; his mother's son with his father's unfortunate looks (I must remember to remind him that once he is once again not made of ice). I have somewhat lost the nauseating reaction to that as well, along the way, whereas before I was frantically unable to even approach the little one when his mother undertook that particular side of the job. Like in piracy, the first theft is the worst and after that, it's all child's play. Who would have known that years and years of living the life of a rapscallion would completely ready me to become Killian Jones, the captain of soiled nappies?

Henry seems to think he knows the answer to the White Witch problem: but claims he and I must undertake a secret quest to find Regina, who must come hither and transform my lovely wife into... a lioness? The boy believes it is a gargantuan lion that beats this witch, a Lion that embodies all that is good and warm, the sun, the harvest... the loving heart of the savior. According to the tale he knows, it is that lion that overcomes this endless cold, and that but a breath from her will bring back to life all frozen people of Storybrooke.

Sounds like the savior to me.

I hate to lie to my Emma, or to conceal the truth from her; this sort of secrecy has, in the past, driven wedges in her trust in me... but if the boy is right and this is the way to defeat the White witch, I'd sooner do good by her and risk her anger, and join the lad in the quest for Regina. I do understand that things are still not completely mended after the Swan's noble error to return Marion into Robin's arms, but if the Queen has not yet been transformed into stalactite, she is bound to desire regaining control of the town she mayors. Hence, I believe she will cooperate; if not for Emma or my baby boy or even the Charmings who stand sadly frozen, she will do it for Henry.

Brave boy...

This is the way this family always worked; by the instances of this valiant young man. With a soul like his, there is always hope. I trust that, in time, he too will show what he trully is capable of; after all, he is Swan's boy, and his paternal heritage is... well, Rumplestilskin's. Much as I may have despised the crocodile in my past years I must admit to the reckoning force of his magic. The time will come for Henry, when he grows to be a man. For now, I must prepare myself and protect him to the best of my skill; at night, my young teen son and I will embark in a live or die mission. With any luck, I'll get to bring Regina over by myself and not let Henry risk his precious young life. After all, should I get caught by this ice minx and get frozen, at least he, his sibling, uncle and mother will live to fight another day.

Now he wants me to keep mum about it and calls it "Operation Frosty Cat". I swear, that lad...