The Past
Killian and Ciarra spent one last night together on the night of the ball.
"As much as I loved your dress," Killian whispered into Ciarra's neck as she squirmed, "I think I love you out of it even more-"
The Present
"This sounds much more like you," Emma said, rolling her eyes. "Although that is a terrible cliché."
"This was two hundred years ago, Swan. If it's a cliché, it's because others copied me."
He had a point. The thought made Emma's head spin.
The Past
The last time Killian saw her alive, though, was a brief afternoon in the spring of 1821. It was a cold and rainy day, the sort that turned the entire city from a tapestry of colours to a blank slate of grey.
He mostly remembered how stressed she appeared that day; she was nearly twenty one, but she looked so exhausted that she appeared much older. She'd lost weight, as well, and almost cried when she saw Killian, burying her face in his neck for several long moments when he came through the door. She looked nervous, continually glancing out the window and jumping at even small noises.
When Liam and Giselle arrived, the knock at the door had her on her feet in an instant. At Killian's questioning glance, she just shook her head.
Later, as they all sat around the small fire in the hearth, Liam brought up Killian and Ciarra's wedding.
"We're hoping to marry this summer," Killian confirmed with a wide grin.
"That's brilliant, brother," Liam told him, accompanied by a hearty pat on his back. "Congratulations, you two."
Ciarra's eyes remained fixed on the wall as though she hadn't registered his words.
"Ciarra?" Prompted Giselle.
She jumped almost a foot in the air. "Hmm?"
"Are you alright?" Asked Liam in concern.
"Oh, yes, fine, just a bit... distracted," Ciarra muttered, smiling briefly.
"I'm sure it's just a side-effect," Giselle shrugged.
"Of?" Demanded Killian, alarmed.
Giselle looked at him pityingly. "Pregnancy, of course."
Killian let out a strangled gasp as everything else in the room fell deathly quiet.
"What?"
"Oh, Ciarra, don't tell me you didn't tell him yet!" Giselle chided.
"Ciarra?" Killian prompted.
Ciarra shook her head rapidly, before running to the bedroom in tears. With a quick apology, Killian rushed after her. Hesitantly, as though approaching a wild animal, Killian moved towards her. When she didn't shout at him, he gently pulled her against his chest and let her cry.
"I'm s-sorry," she sobbed.
"No need to apologize, love," he told her, rubbing circles into her back. "Do you want to talk about it? Are you upset about us... having a child?"
Saying the words out loud filled Killian's stomach with butterflies. Somehow, he couldn't help but picture another Lyanna, although he knew it was ridiculous; it wasn't like his baby would be Lyanna reborn. But it would be a child like Lyanna, with her innocence and nothing to ruin it, like unloving mothers and alcoholic, violent fathers. He could picture the future so clearly that he could almost cry himself, but out of happiness.
"No, no, I'm just so... frightened," whimpered Ciarra.
"To have a family?" A thrill went through Killian at the word.
Ciarra shook her head but didn't elaborate.
"I'll leave the navy so I can be with you," Killian offered. "You won't have to go through this alone. I'll take care of you."
"No!" Ciarra blurted, looking panicked.
Killian tried to hide his hurt. "What?"
"We'll... need the money now. More than ever," Ciarra offered weakly.
"But-"
"I'm sorry, Killian. This is all j-just... pregnancy moods. I honestly c-couldn't say why I'm crying when I'm so happy."
Killian wanted to believe her, and so he did. It was a mistake he never forgave himself for.
When Ciarra had calmed down, Killian grasped her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze before gently leading her back to the others.
"... sounds like a difficult position, but I imagine that you're more than capable," Liam was saying.
He smiled warmly at Ciarra as she sat down. Ciarra managed only the weakest of smiles in return.
"What are you talking about?" Killian asked, sitting down next to fiancée with a smile.
"Giselle's moving up in the world, little brother," Liam explained. "She's getting higher and higher positions at court. She could be helping to make our laws soon."
"That's wonderful news!" Killian said brightly, and he meant it. He would never say no to having someone on their side within the castle.
"Yes, it is," Giselle agreed (modesty was never her strongest suit). "I've worked hard to get here, I assure you. I've had to work twice as hard as any man, anyway."
"It goes to show that you're twice as capable, darling," Liam shrugged. "I'm not surprised that you're starting to succeed. Perhaps you can weed out some of those deceivers you despise so much."
"If I do so, it shall only be through deceit," she said plainly, eyes sharp. "Does that make me terribly wicked, Liam? Although, if it does, I can't say that I care."
"You could never be wicked," Liam promised, smiling at her fondly. "Not if your intentions are good, surely."
His brother and his partner left soon afterwards. Giselle paused at the door, though, and handed Ciarra a letter.
"Some pregnancy congratulations," she said in answer to Killian's questioning look.
Killian stupidly believed her. Even more stupidly, he allowed Ciarra to send him back to his ship the next day.
"I'll come as soon as I can. Are you sure you don't want me to stay?" Killian asked, tenderly brushing a stray hair from Ciarra's forehead.
She nodded, although her lip trembled. "I want you to stay more than anything, but you can't. It's important that you go."
Then, with a wobbly smile, she gave him a long, loving kiss. "I love you."
"I love you too. More than anything," Killian promised.
He waved goodbye once more before turning the corner down to the docks. Ciarra blew him a kiss.
Killian left with happy hopes for the future of wife and child, and he saw them in every ocean wave, constellation, and drifting cloud. This voyage was a short one, and the thought of what awaited him upon his return kept a spring in his step, even when the deck bucked and rolled under the assault of the odd ocean storm.
When he arrived back in the city several months later, he sprinted back to his and Ciarra's house, ready to take her in his arms, kiss her belly, and rejoice in the turn his life had taken.
The sunset shone blindingly through the door when Killian threw it open.
"Ciarra!" He called.
His voice echoed through the house without a response. Killian's grin faded.
"Ciarra?" He shouted again.
No response came to meet his ears, and Killian felt his skin flush in fear. Following some hidden sense he didn't even realize he possessed, he half-ran to the bedroom and threw open the door. Light poured in, illuminating a scene that sent him to his knees with a staggering, blinding sense of déjà vu. The light illuminated his fiancée like a beacon, hanging from the ceiling by her neck and swaying gently with the breeze. A small puddle of urine was on the floor reflecting her image, a foot below where her feet dangled.
"No, no, no," Killian muttered, running his hands through his hair. He felt as though he was in a nightmare, and, if he wished hard enough, he might come back to reality.
After some time, in which his breathing quickened and grew increasingly harsh and loud in the small room, Killian looked at the image again. She was still there, her dark eyes reflecting the setting sun and his own horrified face.
Trembling, Killian got a chair from the kitchen and pulled his fiancée down. She had been showing that she was with child when she hanged herself. He ran a shaking hand over her belly, half-expecting to feel something moving, but it was as dead as its mother.
He cradled her, as he'd hoped to cradle their child, rocking back and forth and sobbing into her hair. Her skin was cold.
"Come back," he sobbed. "Please, come back."
It was only when he really looked that he saw the note tucked into her skirt. With a frown, he opened it and read it. As he read it, his tears stopped, and purpose filled him.
Gently, he carried Ciarra to their bed and put her down. After a moment of hesitation, he pressed his lips against hers. He regretted it almost instantly and recoiled in horror; they were cold and clammy. He didn't know what he'd expected to happen, but somehow his brain was working too slowly through denial and pain to remember that dead people did not have warm, pliable lips.
Then, he went to Liam.
Liam got him tea and left to make arrangements for the burial. Again, Killian was struck with a sense of déjà vu. Never had he been more thankful for his brother, nor for the fact that his brother was currently in the city instead of on a ship. He lit a fire and sat by it, waiting for the numbness to leave his bones.
When the door opened, he stiffened.
"Liam?" Called Giselle, the true person he had been waiting for.
Softly as a cat on the prowl, Killian got to his feet and drew his knife.
"Liam? Where-"
She cut herself off with a strangled yell as the knife touched her throat.
"Explain this to me!" Killian hissed, shaking the note in front of Giselle's face.
The Present
"What was the note?" Inquired Emma softly.
With a sigh, Killian stopped and buried his hand once more in his unending pockets. From the same place as Lyanna's picture, he gently extracted a yellowed, faded, and slightly ripped piece of paper.
Emma took it hesitantly. It read:
My dear Killian,
I hope that you don't hate me, although I find it hard to imagine that you could still love me after this, even if I do explain why I had to kill myself.
It started at the night of the ball, when we ran into Lord Alasdair. Do you remember how he stared at us? Well, he somehow knew your identity and started threatening me soon afterwards. I think he's been threatening Giselle as well, which is also why I write you this. I am not a wholly selfish person desiring to redeem myself in your eyes.
You see, my love, Lord Alasdair wants you dead... both you and Liam. He knew the easiest way, and perhaps the most painful for you, would be to blackmail someone close to you into doing it for him. In this case, it was me. He has been threatening me for months, demanding that I kill you and threatening to come and torture you in front of me before killing us all if I didn't. I was left with an unthinkable choice, which left this as my only option. I couldn't kill you, my love, no more than I could watch you die. That is why I have to do this, you understand. Beyond that, I know that Lord Alasdair would discover our child and not rest until he or she was dead. I could never live with myself if I killed you and our child.
Please send Giselle my sincerest thanks. I know that she was forced to deliver Lord Alasdair's notes to me, which couldn't have been pleasant. She has been so kind to me during the most difficult of times.
I'm sorry that this was the only solution. I send you all of the love I possess, as always.
Ciarra
It took a moment for Emma to decide what to say. Finally, she settled with, "wow."
Killian nodded, jaw clenched.
"I'm so sorry-" Emma began, gut clenching at the thought of Killian losing his fiancée and child in one fell swoop.
Killian just shook his head. "No need, Swan. I've had many years to come to terms with it." His voice was gravelly to the point where Emma just wanted to shake him until he cried and released the emotions that were still so obviously hurting him. However, she just nodded at him to continue and passed him the offending note.
The Past
Giselle noticeably paled.
"I am not so stupid as you might like to think," Killian snarled. "I can see a connection between being the bearer of blackmail and countless consecutive promotions."
"Get off of me, Killian. I'm not going to explain while you have a knife pulled on me," Giselle said coolly.
"You will if you don't want me to slit your throat," Killian threatened.
"You won't. Liam would never forgive you," Giselle promised confidently.
After a moment of hesitation, Killian let his shaking hand fall to his side. "He will once he sees the note," he panted.
"Are you certain?"
Killian scowled, acknowledging her victory. "Explain."
Giselle sighed and sat down primly in one of Liam's chairs. "I swear that I didn't mean to harm her. Ciarra was right; I was blackmailed too. Lord Alasdair notices everything. He's like a puppeteer who knows exactly what strings to pull to get what he wants."
"Ciarra is dead because of you," Killian hissed.
For the first time, Giselle's icy facade cracked and she winced.
"It was unintentional. I didn't know the nature of the blackmail I was carrying. I only knew that my life was threatened if I disagreed, and my prospects were secure if I carried the letters. You're right, carrying them did help me to move up in the political sphere. I only became aware that something was wrong several months later, when Ciarra confided in me the nature of the letters. That was when I realized that Lord Alasdair wanted you two dead.
"I confronted Lord Alasdair that night. We negotiated. I would continue to help him kill you. In return, he would let Liam live and get him and me on the throne. I assumed Ciarra would live, and, of course, she and the baby would be well taken care of once I was on the throne-"
"He only wants me dead? Why?" Killian demanded.
"Liam seems more... manageable, I suppose. His loyalties are clearer. But you would never work for Lord Alasdair, would you?"
"Nor would Liam, if he knew what he had done!" Killian growled.
"But he doesn't. You didn't tell him. That's the reason he's not yet dead. That and me." Giselle said.
"You? You just want to use him to get on the throne!" Killian shouted.
Giselle's eyes flashed. "That's a lie. I loved him before I knew, and I love him still. This is a matter of convenience, Killian: politics. Besides, you must know where my loyalties truly lie if I'm telling you this. I don't want to hurt you or Liam. I never wanted to hurt Ciarra, either. How was I to know that she would take the coward's way out?"
With a cry, Killian pressed his knife against her throat once again. "Never call her that!"
"A coward? Killian, she was. Why else would you be so angry? She left you. She killed your child!"
"Shut up!" Killian hissed, yanking her hair back to expose more of her neck.
"Don't do something you'll regret. I'm on the inside, Killian. Lord Alasdair trusts me. I can convince him to spare your life. I was hoping to, if I'd had more time and Ciarra hadn't made such a rash decision. You need me alive," her voice was growing more panicked with every word.
Finally, with a shout of anger, Killian released her. She fell to the floor in a heap of purple cloth, rubbing her neck nervously.
"I do. But I'll never forgive you this. And if I get even the slightest hint that you're working against us again, I will kill you without hesitation. I swear it," Killian promised in a hard voice.
The Present
"You let her go," Emma said in surprise.
"I did," Killian confirmed. He did not look proud of it.
But it did confirm what Emma had come to realize; Killian had not been born with an inherent desire for revenge. Only time and bitter loss had given it to him. He could have been like her parents if his life had turned out differently.
It was a strange thought.
The Past
When Liam came back through the door, Killian and Giselle were sitting in silence, drinking tea.
"She'll be buried tomorrow," Liam told Killian quietly. "I'm so sorry, brother."
"So am I, truly," Giselle said in her usual calm voice. Killian would've sworn previously that she was being sincere. He wasn't sure of anything, anymore.
"At least-" Killian's voice broke, and he had to begin again. "At least I have you, Liam. I'm so grateful. Thank you."
"Of course," Liam told him, squeezing his shoulders gently. "And you always will. And Giselle too, right, Giselle?"
Giselle nodded, her face blank.
Killian laughed humourlessly. "Yes, Giselle too. Thank God for that."