A/N: I appreciate every single favorite, follow, and review during these 29 chapters.
Disclaimer: I don't own Once Upon a Time or its characters, or the concept of C.S. Lewis' Narnia.
Emma had thought that there was simply nothing left that could shock her anymore.
But to come face-to-face with the centaur she thought they had said goodbye to forever; someone from a completely different realm, who had now appeared during the largest fight of her kingdom's history, was not only unpredictable, but downright baffling.
"Dorian? How- don't take this the wrong way, but what the hell are you doing here?"
Although the sun had since fallen hours ago, the flames from the battlefield illuminated the centaur's dark brown complexion; and Emma watched his perfect teeth appear suddenly, as a deep chuckle escaped his lips.
"That is an excellent question, indeed, Your Highness."
Emma winced at the formal title, and took a moment to stare at the rows and rows of various creatures behind Dorian, all apparently prepped for battle, before her eyes slowly swept up to meet the centaur's deep grey ones again. She felt Killian shift closer to her, his right arm warm against hers, despite the fabric of his shirt between them, and Emma did her best not to roll her eyes.
So protective.
"The compass led us near the Great Waterfall- to the pool that we had used to communicate through the same day that you left Narnia," Dorian continued, as other nearby centaurs watched the battle that raged on behind them in the distance; the booming of cannons and roar of various beasts nearly drowning him out.
"It had never been a portal before, but opened once we arrived."
Killian made a small sound of uncertainty and Emma frowned. How was it possible that the portal hadn't appeared to them after the falls had thawed? Gold certainly never mentioned it, but then; he had been lying to them this whole time.
Emma gritted her teeth at the thought of his betrayal, but turned back to Dorian and the other Narnians, doing her best to speak to as many of them as she could.
"You all are in danger if you stay here," she shouted, as a brief wave of heat wafted from the far distance.
Emma wiped the sweat from the back of her neck that had accumulated from her vision of Regina, and did her best to ignore the various protests from some in the group; including Dorian. The last thing she wanted on her conscious was a few hundred or so Narnian lives on her hands, and it was clear that the fiery foes from Pandora's Box were a force to be reckoned with.
"The enemies we are up against are very powerful," she shouted, pointing over her shoulder toward the massive conflict. "And as you can see, it would be suicide to-"
"We cannot return home anyway," a high voice squeaked; as Emma raised her eyebrows at the small form that stepped out of the crowd.
The faun known as Seargeant Fineus trudged toward them; and unlike before when his gait was eager and cheery, it now appeared hobbled and conquered. His blonde fur was matted with mud, and there were traces of blood on his sword, which was drawn as if he was prepared to fight.
"The compass led us to that pool," the goat soldier explained, "and since the general thought that it might be the answer to the complete restoration of our land, he took us through and we ended up there," he said, pointing to the edge of the forest nearest to the castle.
Emma noticed one soldier, who had a bull's head with a human torso (a minotaur, if she was correct) snort in aggravation; his breath like a white cloud in the still somewhat chilly January air. Her magic wasn't powerful enough to read another's thoughts, but there was a high probability that he didn't want to be there.
"We had interrupted a fierce skirmish, and got caught up in the middle of it," Fineus continued, uncomfortably rubbing one of his short horns. "There were many losses…"
She watched a few of the creatures that were closest to her glance down with anxiety and sadness etched on their features; and Emma's heart clenched.
"And what of General Castrix?"
Killian's voice was laced with a concern that she both appreciated and understood; it was if he had translated the language of her heart, and asked the question that Emma simply could not. Dorian caught both of their gazes, and slowly shook his head; the centaur's eyes watering slightly.
The general's face flashed in her mind; another casualty to join the many others that were ingrained in the graveyard of her conscious. There was a sudden rage that overcame her senses, her palms tingling like a small electric shock; and she had the urge to sprint to the castle and face whatever fate awaited her- if only to save any further bloodshed.
"I can't ask you to stay," Emma croaked, her throat dry and tight with emotion.
Many of the creatures were equipped with weapons and armor; and when she had suggested that they leave, a few of them had stomped their hooves into the ground rather adamantly.
Dorian drew his sword that was at his side, the blade shimmering in the moonlight; and for the first time since their initial encounter in Narnia when he had seized her in chains, the centaur appeared vengeful and determined.
"We will remain here whatever the outcome, Emma. This is now our fight as well."
Sidestepping the mild surprise at Dorian using her first name, she turned to see Killian walk toward the group, his expression both weary and (if Emma knew him as well as she thought) a bit grateful, too.
"That is a display of bravery well worthy of recognition, and I truly mourn your general, mate," he replied to Dorian, clasping his hand over the centaur's forearm, before his face grew dim.
"But the Lady Swan is correct… these fiery beasts cannot be defeated with swords and arrows."
Dorian, with a few of the other centaurs and Fineus, followed Emma and Killian to the peak of the ridge, looking out toward the blazing battle going on below them in the distance. One of the larger of the dragons swooped down over a group of soldiers, its scorching breath erupting over them; leaving a pile of blackened corpses in its wake.
She saw Dorian crane his muscular neck over toward the river that ran along the forest line, and his angular jaw broke into a wide smirk.
"I believe we have an answer to that," Dorian said confidently, before he moved over to the far end of the ridge, his hooves crunching the twigs below them. He turned back toward Emma and raised his voice over the cannon fire.
"If you have a way to communicate to your forces, Your Highness, tell them to move toward the river's edge."
She thought better than to correct him, recognizing that he had returned back to formalities; before Emma pulled out her shell communicator, and hoped that someone on the field would still have access to one.
The warmth of the magic grew in her palm, and she was surprised when her father's face came into view, his lip swollen and bloody.
"Emma?"
Relieved that he had survived so far, she moved the shell closer to her face, hoping her voice would carry over the screams of those poor souls that weren't so lucky. Killian moved beside her, his warm breath on the back of her exposed neck.
"David, are you and Mary Margaret alright?"
He opened his mouth to reply, as a burst of flame shot past behind him, narrowly missing the king, whose face was covered in ash.
"I don't have time to explain the creatures," Emma said hurriedly, her heart pounding at the idea that her parents could very easily not survive this. "I need you to order your forces to move toward the riverbank...trust me," she added, before David's look of doubt morphed into one of resolve.
"Be careful," he said quickly; and she nodded, moving to turn off the communicator, before the king stopped her.
"And Emma… kick some wicked witch ass for me," David said, making her and Killian smile regardless of the situation; her father's unrelenting sense of humor giving them a brief respite from the chaos.
She flipped the communicator closed, and the warmth in her palm faded, before Emma signaled to the centaurs that they were ready. The group watched as hundreds of soldiers ran toward the river, the witches' fiends close in pursuit. She saw Dorian raise his brawny bicep, and blow into a conch shell, the signal resounding over the valley.
Nothing much happened, except that David's troops finally reached the water's edge; and Emma glanced over at Killian, who had the same uncertain expression.
And then, the river seemed to tremble like someone detonated a bomb within its depths, the water rippling across the twenty or thirty feet of width. At various points, she could see bubbling along the surface, before several dozen figures rose out of the water.
Whatever the creatures were, they looked more human than anything else: standing about seven or eight feet tall, both in the form of men and women with crowns and beards made of, what looked to Emma from where they stood, like foam.
"River nymphs," Dorian said quietly at Emma's right. "They and many other inhabitants of Narnia were awakened after your visit to our land, and they followed us into the portal from the Great River."
They seemed intimidating enough in appearance, and Emma noted that there must have been three or four dozen of them scattered about the river; but she highly doubted they would be any match for the hundreds of dragons, giant hell hounds, and fire birds that reigned destruction down onto the Allies.
As if on cue, one of the river nymphs raised a harpoon-like spear, just as translucent as its body, and flung it at a nearby yaoguai; whose fiery mane was extinguished by the watery weapon. Three or four nearby soldiers cornered the beast, which now had no extraordinary means of attack, and thrust their spears into its flesh, killing it rather quickly.
A few of the Narnians on the ridge cheered, and Emma's spirits were lifted as she watched many more of the nymphs follow suit; allowing the soldiers to fight back against the ferocious creatures from Pandora's Box. The fairies, too, were able to assist, as they created protection barriers around the troops from the dragon's blasts.
This continued on, before Killian's warm hand grasped her elbow, and she turned toward Dorian and the others. Their faces were determined, but Emma couldn't help but wonder how these Narnians had been pulled into such an unfortunate situation; that their fate would be the same as that of a foreign kingdom.
"We need to go, Darling," Killian said quietly to her, his tone almost urgent.
There was a good chance that one of the sisters would eventually come out to join the fray, but they simply couldn't wait any longer. Now that they knew Gold had arrived with the other two rings for Maleficent's plan (whatever it was,) time was more their enemy than anything else.
She gave Killian a swift nod, and he moved over to prepare the horse they would take to the castle.
Approaching Dorian, who had just given the last of the orders to his second in command, Emma gave the best version of a smile that she could muster.
"We have a job to do, and can't come with you. Good luck," Emma said in a low tone. She felt a brief need to say something else, but there was simply nothing sufficient enough to properly express her gratitude.
He seemed to understand, smiling at her with such sincerity, that no further conversation was necessary; before the centaur raised his sword, and the army moved its way down over the ridge to join the battle.
Killian's horse trotted over, before he pulled her up to join him in the saddle; and she adjusted into her seat, the creature's muscles tensing beneath her thighs. Emma looked out over the valley, in what would perhaps be her last glimpse of the kingdom that she was once expected to rule.
She placed her chin onto Killian's shoulder; his spicy scent a reminder that he was her constant, never wavering in familiarity and devotion.
"They could all die for nothing," Emma whispered, her quivering voice betraying her.
He let out a deep sigh, his back relaxing into her chest, and she felt Killian's left hand fall warmly over the arm she had wrapped around his middle for balance.
"They chose to fight for something, Emma- just as we have," he replied quietly, before his boots spurred the horse forward; and they made their way toward the tree line that lead to the castle in the not-so-far distance.
Killian hadn't said a word on their way to the fortress; the horse's deep breathing and the snapping of branches beneath them, Emma's only source of conversation besides what was going on in her head.
In addition, the sky was now dark and covered with stars, no sign of glowing fire or any warfare to be heard; which both provided her with hope that the Allies had been victorious, and filled Emma with a breathtaking dread that nearly everyone she cared about could be gone.
There had never been much time to think about her fate in the many other situations where she had used magic or faced an evil force. Even when they had encountered Pan, a part of her never really feared that they wouldn't survive.
But this was different.
This time, Emma knew exactly what she was up against, and had time to contemplate the various scenarios that could play out. There was a good chance they she and Killian, or both, wouldn't walk out of that castle alive (or at least in tact), but she knew there was no possibility of him abandoning her to save himself. And Emma was never one to turn her back on a fight when she was needed.
But she had never been expected to save her loved ones while pregnant, either.
Their trip to the castle had taken too long and not taken long enough; as Emma inwardly struggled between wanting to save Regina in time, and the instinctual need to run in the other direction and save her child: Killian's child.
Looking up to the full moon above them, she allowed herself, what would be perhaps their final moments of intimacy; as the slow rise and fall of his chest seemed like a battle drum solo, pulling them closer and closer to the fight.
She shivered subconsciously and nestled further into his leather vest; Killian's warmth resonating through the thick material. Whatever had made the winter air tolerable for the past few months seemed to have taken a short respite, as the chilly air now properly reflected the temperature of a night in late January.
The horse came to a gentle halt directly outside of the castle's perimeter, its hot breath coming out in slow draws, as the stars reflected off of the dark water surrounding the fortress.
Emma watched Killian's profile, as he half turned and rested his hand on the suede pant leg of her riding trousers, his features much graver than she was accustomed to.
Apparently his mind had wandered to similar places as hers had.
"It is no revelation they've raised the drawbridge," he said, finally breaking the silence between them.
Emma didn't respond, her senses coming back to her suddenly, as she realized they had made no plan to actually enter the castle. She watched him dismount, before he held his arms open to assist her to do the same. Her boots hit the ground hard with a thump, the sound penetrating deep into the emptiness of the forest.
Killian tied their horse to a nearby tree, as she carefully watched for any sign of movement. It had been almost too easy for them to have gotten this far without any opposition, but Emma figured most of the witches' forces had joined the battle.
This could be a good sign that the Allies had made great progress; or it simply implied that the sisters hadn't worried themselves with any last line of defense against their powerful magic.
She began their short journey toward the direction of the large castle, and Killian met her in stride. As they neared the short footbridge leading toward the entrance, Emma noticed a large statue of a winged horse standing guard to right of the barbican archway that led to the lifted drawbridge.
Goosebumps covered her arms, as the two of them walked along the cobblestone path, each step seeming to rumble over the quiet area like distant thunder. She raised the sword Mulan had entrusted with her with, Emma's stare never leaving the stone guardian, as they came to stand only a few yards away from it.
Killian drew his weapon, too, as if to expect a sudden attack, and as she made her way carefully to the statue, Emma saw him crane his neck out of the corner of her eye to peer into the dark, obsidian waters of the moat surrounding the castle.
"Don't reckon I want to know what lurks in the depths of those waters," she heard him murmur.
The horse was made of marble, its surface gleaming against the moonlight overhead, its features so lifelike that Emma had to resist the urge to reach out and touch it. The wingspan stretched out far enough to nearly cover the entirety of the path, and she found it odd that there was only one statue, instead of two.
For a moment, Emma was sure she saw one of the horse's large eyeballs shift, before a loud splash made her jerk around with her weapon aimed in defense. Killian had thrown a rock into the moat, and now looked at her sheepishly, as she struggled to calm her racing heart.
"Sorry, luv," he said with the faintest hint of a smirk, the pirate obviously realizing he had scared the daylights out of her. "My curiosity bested me, I'm afraid."
Emma narrowed her eyes, and before she could open her mouth to retort, the ground trembled beneath them suddenly. Her ears popped with a familiar feeling, and Emma knew what was happening, even before she had turned around a second later.
Killian's cussing from behind her slowly faded into nothing, and she allowed the fullness in her ears to overcome her. Emma watched the statue's marble crumble away, only to be replaced with a shiny coat of silver-white hair, the wings turning to glittery feathers.
Gaping up in surprise at the horse, which reared up as if to show dominance, she saw Killian move his mouth to speak to her; but the only sound Emma heard was the shrill neighing from the creature that now towered eight or nine feet over them.
For a moment, the winged horse said nothing, but stared directly at her, tucking its wings into its sides, and bucking its head up and down in apparent irritation.
Killian still had his sword drawn, but something in the creature's coal-colored eyes filled Emma with a sense of familiarity, and she lowered her weapon. The horse lifted his lips upward, then; the blackness stark against the pure white of its glossy coat, as his deep voice penetrated her senses.
"So you have come at last, despite knowing the risks."
Knowing full well he could not understand the animal, she inwardly cursed herself for glancing at Killian anyway. The pirate still maintained a defensive stance, but had now apparently realized that Emma could not hear him, and gave up trying to speak to her.
She placed a hand gently on Killian's forearm, as his eyes maintained a level of questioning; but when she finally spoke for the first time since they had left the ridge, Emma knew that her request would be granted before she even asked.
"Trust me, Killian."
Without hesitation, he nodded silently, and Emma took another step toward the winged horse, which now watched her intently, but made no further movement. She inwardly hoped that the creature would not see them as a threat, but prepared for the worst.
"So you know why we're here? We need to save our friend," she said, her voice wavering slightly at her use of the word "friend" to describe Regina; but knew almost immediately afterward, that it was the proper title for the mother of her son.
Emma considered her next words carefully, but steadied her words.
"Do you plan to stop us?"
The horse shook its head rather violently, the silvery mane blowing in the cool breeze, as it stomped its massive hoof, the muscles rippling beneath its brawny form.
"I am Pegasus, son of Poseidon and Medusa, and have been entrusted with the guardianship over this bridge. I am not here to impede you, unless you are not meant to enter."
Emma glanced sideways at Killian, who looked between her and the horse with such a baffled expression that she would have burst out laughing if the situation wasn't so dire. She frowned in mild frustration, since the creature's answer hadn't really answered her question, but continued in her resolve.
"Can you lower the bridge so we can get across?"
For the first time, Emma swore she could see a flicker of human expression on the horse's features, and there was a hint of mirth in his tone this time.
"Perhaps; perhaps not. That depends on you."
Tilting her head at Pegasus in annoyance, Emma realized that the creature seemed to have too much enjoyment from this stand-off. She straightened her stance and spoke in a firm voice, folding her arms over her chest protectively.
"What will you have me do?"
Any sign of amusement was gone again in an instant, and the horse stomped its hoof again, the ground shaking slightly beneath them. Emma feared that she had angered the guardian with her defiant tone, but Pegasus straightened up, surprising her once more.
"Answer the riddle, but guess only once. Answer correct, and pass through you may; answer wrong, and be imprisoned the rest of your days."
She felt Killian come to stand next to her, his warm hand on her hip, and his mouth grazed Emma's ear in an attempt to whisper something. Though she couldn't hear him, Emma turned and saw the imploring look he gave her, as if to suggest that she include him in the conversation.
The winged horse's eyes were now empty of emotion, as black and endless as night sky above them. It was the first time since it had come to life that Emma truly feared the creature.
"When you need me, you throw me away.
But when you're finished with me, you bring me back.
What am I?"
Emma gaped up at the gaurdian, her heart pounding against her chest. She hadn't expected it to be easy, but if there was a time limit on this thing, they might be in trouble.
Glancing back at the horse, wondering how funny she would sound speaking when she couldn't heard herself, Emma grasped Killian's hand and repeated the riddle as close to what she could remember as possible.
"And if we answer incorrectly, apparently we never get to leave," Emma added with a hint of sarcasm in her voice. She watched the creases in Killian's forehead deepen, and the pirate rubbed his jaw, deep in thought.
Emma racked her brain for any possible answer that would make sense, as she caught a glimpse of movement in the murky waters of the moat nearby. A shiver ran down her spine at the thought of others who may have answered incorrectly; and what type of fate they had met.
His hand caught hers again, their gazes meeting; and Killian's unspoken request was the same as hers had been only moments ago; one that he never needed to doubt again.
Trust me.
Turning to Pegasus with his hands on both hips, the pirate craned his neck up to stare directly into the creature's eyes, confidence written on his features. Emma held her breath in anticipation, reading his lips as he gave the reply.
An anchor.
She knew his answer was right, even before the horse reacted.
The creature raised his wings high over their heads, snorting forcefully into the night air, before two columns of massive chains holding the drawbridge clanked loudly, lowering the heavy plank of wood in front of them.
Emma watched Pegasus bow his sizeable head as if to show respect, his wings outstretched. Before she could react, the horse's shiny coat started to harden, his body transforming back to alabaster white; its eyes motionless once more, yet still so lifelike.
Her ears popped again, and Emma felt like she had emerged from underwater. Though the silence around them was nearly deafening in itself, she was relieved to have her hearing returned to her.
She gave an inward thanks to her child for the power that allowed them to communicate with the winged horse; and wondered if this feeling of pride was what Mary Margaret felt when Emma's magic had helped them those times when it was most needed.
"You alright, Darling? What the bloody hell happened?"
His voice was rather loud, and Killian looked into her face as if she still may not be able to hear him. Emma bit her lip, wrapping her arms around his neck, and allowed herself to enjoy the relieved look on his face.
"I'll explain later. That was clever thinking, though, Captain."
He blushed and gave her a quick squeeze on her behind, before he leaned in to peck her on the mouth, his lips worn from the bitter wind. His affectionate nature didn't last however, as Killian raised his sword up and nodded toward the entrance.
"Best we get a move on, Swan," he murmured, his eyes darting from side to side. It was clear that the man's guard would remain in place until they have finished; and Emma, though inwardly grateful for his vigilance, wondered if she would ever see her playful pirate again.
They moved more quickly, now, their pace turning to a brisk walk. The stone ceiling around them was covered in moss and mold, dripping water from above their heads. Though it had been cold outside, Emma noticed that the air grew humid once again, the muggy nature of the guard house apparent as soon as they entered through the archway.
Both the main entrance and the door to the inner bailey had been opened; and Emma wondered why the witches had bothered to post a statue at guard, only to allow them to enter from the outer walls of the fortress unhindered.
The pathway had been made of cobblestone, but once they reached the other side of the small guard house and into the courtyard; Emma noticed that despite the dense fog that surrounded them, the surface was only dirt and gravel, much like she was used to at home.
Home.
Something gripped at Emma's heart when she thought of Henry and Greyson; sitting in the protection of their castle, awaiting any news of their parents, and potentially becoming what Emma had sworn her child would never become: an orphan.
At least those two would have each other.
Killian glanced around the courtyard, which looked to be the size of a high school basketball court, but still large enough that they couldn't see to the other side due to the layer of fog that hovered above the surface.
Almost simultaneously, they noticed a small wooden door at the far end of the bailey, a torch lit to its right as if to invite them in. Killian kneeled down and rubbed his hand over a trail of footprints in the dirt, following it with his eyes to the door at the other end.
"This must be the way," he said under his breath, before he stood and took a step toward the door.
An alarm went off in Emma's mind, however, and she pulled him back suddenly. Drawing her sword, she watched for any sign of an ambush, as Mulan's voice rang through her head.
"Never expose yourself in the open when it looks suspicious."
Killian didn't say anything, but Emma could almost feel his confusion through the fog and dead silence. There was something not quite right, and she was taught that if the path seemed too simple, it generally meant that there was a good reason for it.
"Can't hurt to check," Emma whispered, before she picked up a rock and hurled it into empty space between themselves and the door. The stone skidded across the rest of the gravel, with a clacking that echoed over the courtyard, and out of view.
The few seconds afterward were rather humiliating, as Emma was certain something would have happened, and she glanced over to see an expectant look on Killian's face, his lips pursed as if he tried not to smile.
"Curiosity got the best of you too, I see, Darling," he joked.
So much for losing her playful pirate.
"Alright fine, just be careful as we head toward-"
The ground shook so much beneath them, that she felt like they were back in the giant's lair atop the beanstalk; as she steadied herself against Killian's strong arm. Even through the fog, she caught a glimpse of movement, and Emma knew that the mist may have been placed there on purpose to obstruct their line of sight.
Unsure of whether it would help, she swiped her hands outward from each other; and the fog cleared from the courtyard, giving them a view of the entire surrounding area. Although Emma was relieved that it had worked, the scene was gruesome enough to make them both stumble backward in surprise.
Dark figures of various shapes and sizes stood stiffly throughout the entire bailey, the moonlight creating shadows over their expressionless faces.
She could see from the ones nearest to them that they seemed to have rotting flesh that fell off of lanky frames, their clothes ripped in many places. Much like Maleficent had appeared when Emma saw her in the vision, these corpse-like creatures must have once been human, but looked more dead than alive.
At first not a single one made any sign of advancement or sound; and in the silence, Emma heard Killian shuffle through his vest and pull out something shiny, which only took her a few seconds to recognize.
"Seriously? You still have that thing?"
Despite the teasing in her tone, the man still managed to look appalled, his hook glimmering under the moon.
"What are you implying, luv? It's a part of me, and always will be."
She couldn't help the smile creep onto her lips, but their moment was short-lived, as one of the corpse creatures that appeared to be dressed as an 18th century pirate, suddenly sprang to life and swung its sword at Killian; who ducked impressively, and sunk his hook into the figure's chest.
If the corpse had felt any pain, it certainly hid it well; and no blood flowed from the wound, as it kicked Killian to the ground with its boot, the long wig and black, curly beard billowing in the wind. Its body appeared mangled under the shredded officer's uniform, as if the pirate had been thrown through a giant wood chipper.
Emma took a step toward them, her sword raised, but she stopped in surprise when the corpse man opened his mouth to speak.
"You may have killed me once, Jones, but you won't be so fortunate this time," it croaked, as if speech labored its lungs. Killian slowly got to his feet, astounded.
"Roberts? Black Bart Roberts… I watched you walk the plank after we captured your ship."
Another figure leapt out from the crowd, also dressed in pirate garb, and Emma's eyes widened when she noticed its throat had been slashed, remnants of crusted-over blood all down the front of his tattered tunic. It charged at Killian, who stumbled back, his eyes wide.
"Calico Jack… how the bloody hell-"
"Thought you'd seen the last of me after you bedded my Anne Bonny and slit my throat for good measure, eh Hook," he rasped, his yellow teeth nearly glowing against the dark of night. "Allow me to return the favor."
Emma had only a second to see the look of guilt flash across Killian's face, before chaos erupted; as all of the figures that surrounded them attacked, swords clashing and shots ringing throughout the courtyard. Her hands erupted in fire, and she glanced over to see Killian slice one of the corpses legs from under him, but the creature's limb grew back a second later,.
"We can't beat them that way," she shouted to Killian over the groans and gunfire, throwing her magic into the crowd, only to have it flicker and die.
The figures continued to trap them in, the circle growing smaller and smaller, but Emma noticed that none of the corpses moved in to finish them off. The two of them were clearly outnumbered, and nothing she or Killian did was enough to slow them down.
It's like they're waiting for something.
Suddenly the fighting ceased, and the corpses stood still, as they had before, their faces blank of any emotion. Killian looked over in her direction, his breathing labored, before he slowly backed toward Emma, as if to try and put distance between her and the creatures.
She could see by the look on Killian's face that he had recognized more of their attackers, as he squinted his eyes and whispered unfamiliar names under his breath. Time seemed frozen in those short seconds, before she watched the mob part in the middle, creating a path toward the door.
Neither of them moved, knowing that it couldn't possibly be over. Before she could even form another thought, though, a figure rose from the remaining fog; its form taller and less gangly than the others, and wrapped in a brown cloak.
From this distance, she noticed that the boots were more modern than its pirate counterparts had been; and when she saw the leather bootlaces, Emma's breath caught in her throat, before the figure lowered its hood.
"Graham," she whispered, her mouth agape.
What had once been a handsome face was now ashen, his lips purple and chapped. The sheriff's usual warm eyes were now bloodshot, surrounded by hollow dark circles, like caverns hiding secrets within their depths. His hair was ragged-looking, but his clothes looked pristine, still the same as she remembered from that fateful night at the station with no sign of injury or battle; and Emma inwardly acknowledged why.
His death had been caused by a crushed heart.
She watched Killian half turn and look at her, concern and uncertainty written all over his features. He must have known that this man wasn't just someone she recognized, but who Emma had once cared for.
Taking a step forward, she felt Killian shift nervously, but he made no attempt to stop her, as Emma moved closer to the familiar, but foreign figure. Graham had shown no sign of recognition, his jaw firmly set, as she came within feet of his motionless form.
"Graham?"
Her voice had been a near whisper, but she was sure he heard her this time, as one of his dark eyebrows rose up.
"Why, Emma?"
She reminded herself to take a breath, as Emma hadn't realized she had held it since his arrival. The corpse's accent certainly sounded like the former sheriff's, but much more gruff, like sandpaper against splintered wood. Something in his tone, however, affected her the most, as if he was desperate for the answer.
"Why what," she replied quietly, slowly sheathing her sword in an attempt to show him no harm.
His eyes lit up, then, the beautiful color of green overcoming the emptiness that had held before; and Graham's face fell, his expression one of a broken man.
"Why didn't you believe me?"
A small sob escaped her, before Emma stepped forward without a second thought, her hand reaching for him; but Graham put his hands up to stop any progress, his brow furrowed. There was a mixture of hatred and betrayal on his pale face, and she felt her throat close tightly.
"You couldn't open yourself up to me, and now it's too late."
Swallowing hard, Emma closed her eyes as if to escape his harsh words; inwardly hoping this was one of her odd dreams or visions that she could wake from. Like the waterfall in Narnia, Emma had come face-to-face with her past; only this time, the pain had been inflicted on someone other than her. It had been because she was unable to let him in- unable to trust him or anyone else.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, opening her eyes again to the torment-ridden features of the man she had come to love and respect.
"I'm so sorry, Graham."
She glanced down at her wrist, to the leather bootlace tied there as a reminder of the friend who had meant so much to her; who had found a way into her heart, even though he had lost his long before they ever met.
Emma untied the bootlace, before she placed it in her palm, and held it out to him as if to show that he had stayed with her all this time. Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but she was almost certain that his expression had softened, as Graham's mouth parted slightly in what looked to be amazement.
"I won't ever forget the faith you placed in me," Emma said, her voice breaking, as a tear fell down her face. Her lips trembled, and she forced herself to meet his eyes again.
"But I can't have a future, until I let go of my past regrets."
He seemed to understand her meaning, and a small smile slowly appeared on his lips, as she felt the tingle of her magic ignite on her fingertips.
"Goodbye Graham," Emma whispered, hesitating for a moment, before the magic spread to her palm, lighting the bootlace aflame. She threw the fire in her hand toward him, his cloak catching instantly; and her knees gave out, as a pair of strong arms caught her, before she fell to the ground.
Emma let Killian hold her while she watched the form fade back into a cloud of smoke and fog; a knowing smile still etched on Graham's face.
The remaining corpses disintegrated into a thick, vapor-like substance, as a blanket of fog surrounded them again. They stood motionless for a moment longer, neither one making a sound, besides their still-ragged breathing, now loud over the emptiness of the courtyard.
Turning to face Killian, Emma saw the concern in his stare, his arms still holding her tightly against his chest; his pounding heart a reminder their life here in the present- a stark contrast to her departed past.
She wanted so much to tell him of their child; to trust that by letting him see her at her most vulnerable, Emma would truly have moved on.
But the hopeful gleam in the man's stare, and the determination written on his face, reminded Emma that there was an unstoppable force in front of them; and she could not find the words to tell him that they may never get the chance to be parents together.
I can bear the burden for both of us.
Killian didn't ask her anything further about the man who had brought tears to her eyes. Instead, he took her left hand (which connected to the now-bare wrist) into his own, and guided her toward an open door at the opposite end of the courtyard.
"This future of yours," he said softly after a minute, as their boots crunched over the gravel. "Dare I hope to hold a place in it?"
She glanced over at him, and despite the darkness that surrounded them, the hint of vulnerability on his face could still be recognized in the moonlight, as Emma quietly gave him her reply.
"What do you think?"
Killian's face broke into a genuine smile that Emma swore she'd never forget as long as she lived, if they somehow made it out of this mess. He said nothing further, but merely winked at her, and grabbed the torch that hung on the castle wall to the right of the wooden door; before he pushed it open and stepped inside, the metal hinges creaking over the silence.
Emma followed him to the doorway, but turned when she heard the howling of a wolf in the distance. She paused a moment, a brief smile on her face; before Emma stepped over the threshold of the castle, and into the unknowing darkness that lie ahead.
A/N: Although there is no disclaimer needed, I wanted to note that "Black Bart" Bartholomew Roberts and "Calico Jack" John Rackham were actual people, and not fictional characters, though their fates in my story were certainly made up!