Chapter Text
“Emma!”
The forest seemed all wrong, but Imani’s voice was clearer than ever as it rang through the trees. No matter how fast Emma tried to run, Imani’s cries for help seemed to get farther and farther away.
The branches on the tree were long and spindly, and it seemed as if they tried to reach out and grab her.
“Imani?” she called out frantically. “Imani, can you hear me? Where are you?”
A cruel laugh seemed to ring through the arena as the trees she seemed to pass now had empty nooses hanging from them, each containing a severed head.
“No, no, no,” Emma whispered, trying to pushing herself further and further. It was then that Imani’s screams stopped all together and she stumbled. She had stopped paying attention to what was happening, and it caused her to lose her footing. When she tried to push herself up, she saw Imani hanging limply from the tree by her neck.
A winged monkey—Walsh—flapped its wings and landed in front of her. On its back, was Felix. The boy’s smile was bright red with blood as he leered down at her. “Hello, Emma,” he said. “I knew I’d find you.”
Emma woke up with a hoarse shout, feeling her nightshirt all but sticking to her back with sweat. She could practically feel her heart slamming itself against her chest and every gasp she took seemed to fill the empty room.
“It’s over,” she tried to whisper. “It’s over…”
After all…that wasn’t how Imani had died.
And Walsh had already been dead by the time she’d faced off with Felix.
And Felix hadn’t killed her. Or Killian.
They’d been the first dual winners of any Hunger Games in the last 74 years. If nothing else, it meant that what she saw had been a dream and nothing more. She and Killian had come home, both entitled to fancy new houses in the Victors only section of District 7. There were some days when the lavish stylings of her new room were more disorienting than comforting, though she was glad today didn’t seem to be one of those days.
But it was isolating sometimes.
Her two neighbors were Whale, her former mentor, who she did not are to talk to at the minute. He had nothing good to say, given that he’d taken up drinking quite ferociously since their win.
Not that she blamed him. She never did ask her mentor what Gold and Pan wanted to talk to him about. But she was sure whatever it was, it couldn’t have been good. Especially if her mentor was still this spooked.
“Victor?” Snow stood at the door to Emma’s room. “I…they sent Charming and I for you. Pan and Gold want to meet with you.”
Emma froze, when she heard that those two men had specifically call her mentor in. “No, no you can’t go,” she begged, clinging to her mentor’s hand, not caring that Snow and David were watching her. “Please, Whale, don’t go.”
“It’s okay,” David said gently. “We’ve got you the best of the best to go in with you. Regina said she’s more than willing to be your second.”
Whale untangled himself from Emma’s embrace despite her best attempts to keep him there. He went over and clapped David’s shoulder before turning to Emma. “You’re a Victor now, Emma. So is Killian. And Victors?” he tilted his head to Snow and David. “We look out for each our own. Do you understand me?” He dipped his head to look her right in the eye.
Emma nodded, meeting her own mentor’s gaze, finally understanding what exactly it was he was trying to tell her. “Yeah,” she whispered, rubbing her eyes. “I…I’ll be okay with them. You can go to your meeting.”
“Okay, watch her sugar intake, and you, young lady, no booze, and no drugs while I’m gone,” Whale said, tagging his finger at her. “Be good for the babysitters.”
He hadn’t been the same since that meeting. Whatever was said to him made him quieter and more subdued. And…Emma was convinced that her mentor now hated her. After all, her reckless decision to try to take her life and Killian’s at the end of the Games caused an unprecedented uproar in the Capitol.
She hadn’t gotten to consult him on her decision, and now he was one of the people paying the price of her brashness.
The early morning light seemed to creep in slowly and illuminate parts of the room. Her swansong pin sat on the dresser, and Emma felt like it was mocking her.
Because her other neighbor was Killian Jones. Her fellow Victor, the supposed love of her life, and a boy she hadn’t talked to in months.
Sometimes, she wanted more than anything to talk to him, to see if he was feeling the same way she felt. If he had the nightmares too. But then she’d look across her bay window and see him cooking or reading…seemingly living a good and happy life without her in it.
She’d told him on their day home that she wanted to take a break before the Capitol made them tethered to each other forever.
Emma didn’t realize how much she’d actually miss him. In the three weeks that they’d gone from Tributes to Victors, with celebrations and all, she hadn’t realized how ingrained Killian had become to her.
“There’s not a day that will go by where I won’t think of you,” he promised, his voice so achingly tender that she wanted to fall into it and keep herself safe and hidden in it.
“Good,” she whispered back, her eyes misting over.
Of course, none of this mattered now when he seemed to be doing just fine without her.
She ran her fingers through her hair a few times with one hand, the fingers of her other hand anxiously drumming against her thigh. She waited for a sign, any sign that all was well in the house. A loud snore from next door caused her to let out a soft chuckle.
At least Henry could still sleep through a hurricane. But then again, her brother had always been able to sleep through most things.
Though these days, Henry seemed to act as her anchor when she needed it best, coaxing her back from the arena and into their home.
It was the last thing she’d ever wanted, but he at least seemed to take it in stride, as he’d taken in most things.
Still, it was still dark out yet. The sun was just peeking up over the horizon. She figured if she wasn’t going to go back to sleep, at least Henry could sleep for a few more hours.
Throwing on a coat, a scarf, and gloves, Emma headed and away from Victor’s Alcove, her breath visible in the early morning light. Her eyes briefly flickered to Killian’s house. She thought she saw a light in one of the windows but couldn’t be bothered to keep looking.
She started make her way down the familiar path into the woods, a pack slung over her shoulders so she could collect her haul and bring it to market.
There was something inherently peaceful about setting and checking the traps every morning.
She didn’t need to set traps to catch squirrels and such—after all, she’d won more money than she possibly knew what to do with—but it made for good bargaining at the market. After all, other people needed food.
And there was something about the routine that was inherently soothing and safe. It was something that she had complete control over.
Can’t let all this arena training go to waste, she thought wryly. Though, she was a Victor now, and that meant soon she’d have Tributes of her own to mentor and whatever else came after that.
At the very least, her status meant that she had more power than the year before to make sure Henry was safe. And she was damn well sure that she was going to do that for him.
A rustling snapped her out of her musing, and she whipped around to see a fox watching her, looking almost expectant.
“What? You think I can’t get to my traps before you?” Emma muttered to the fox. It tilted its head before turning around and scampering off in the opposite direction.
“Yeah, you and everybody else, pal,” she huffed, walking toward the direction of her traps.
Since no one lived this far out, she was rarely ever disturbed, and no one ever questioned it.
Even the Mistguard were known to look the other way if Emma slipped them a particularly juicy squirrel or rabbit.
In its own way, it was like keeping Imani with her. She’d learned it for the arena, and had used it to keep the two of them alive until…well.
As she undid the first trap, her hand throbbed in protest. Though the hand was faintly scarred from her first night in the Games, the doctors had done a fine job in patching it back up and making sure the tendons still worked properly. Still, there was an ache she felt sometimes that was practically bone deep. The colder days were the worst, though the ache wasn’t particularly pleasant before it rained or snowed either.
Nothing to be done about, she supposed. It wasn’t like there was anything she could do, other than slowly flex her hand, waiting for the pain to pass.
A rustling sounded behind her, and a flock of birds fluttered from the tree, squawking in fright.
Well, there goes any other catch I’m liable to make today, she thought angrily, her hand immediately flying to her boot.
Ever since the Games, she hadn’t felt quite right going out without some sort of weapon on hand, usually a dagger in her boot.
So far, she hadn’t needed it. After all, the Districts were supposed to be safe, especially now that she was a victor. But she couldn’t forget the look in President Gold’s eyes when he saw her last, and she was sure that he was going to do something about her and Killian sooner rather than later.
After all, he certainly hadn’t been the happiest person with them, and she had no idea if that’d gotten better or worse over the months.
Besides, if there was anything she’d gotten used to, it was being ready to defend herself in a moment’s notice when out in an open forest like this. Like in the arena.
A twig snapped, followed by a soft curse. Definitely a human.
The hairs on the back of her neck stood up and her heart began to pound. No one is gonna catch me unaware! Emma whipped around and threw her dagger at the noise. When the cannon didn’t sound, her heartrate began to pick up.
“Hey!” Neal hissed, coming out of the trees. Her dagger was sticking proudly out of Neal’s pack. All in all, she couldn’t help but sigh in relief. After all, Neal hadn’t been in the Games, and he certainly wasn’t going to try and kill her. That she knew for sure.
“What’d you do that for?” he asked. “You could’ve killed me.”
“What’d you sneak up on me for?” Emma asked, unimpressed. Looking him over, she huffed, “Don’t be a baby. You didn’t die.”
“Yeah, but I could’ve,” Neal retorted.
“Well, that’s what you get for sneaking up on me. If someone sneaks up on you in the arena, that’s it. You don’t even get to draw the next breath to complain about it,” Emma replied hotly, folding her arms over her chest. She felt like she could see Hans creeping up behind Neal—the same way he’d crept up behind Imani—but she shook her head irritably.
He’s dead. You killed him, remember? He killed Imani and then you killed him before he could kill you. Couldn’t help her though…
Emma bit her lip, eyes flickering to the ground.
Imani was strung up in a net, hanging from a tree. “Emma, help!” she pleaded. “I went to get the third column, and I got stuck!” Her free hand clutched at the ropes but her missing hand was wound tightly in the trap itself.
“Don’t worry!” Emma called, rushing over to the rope by the tree. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you! Everything is gonna be just fine. I won’t let anything happen to you.” She chopped at the rope until it snapped and the net came tumbling to the ground.
Imani let out a cry of terror and Emma came over as fast as she could, tearing at the netting.
“Are you okay? Anything broken?” Emma asked urgently, running her hands everywhere she could to make sure that nothing was broken.
“No, no,” Imani reassured her, taking a step forward. “I’m fine—”
Imani was broken off by a whizzing noise, and an arrow struck Imani right in the stomach. With a furious cry, Emma threw the dagger at her side, immediately striking Hans in the throat
A cannon sounded, but Emma could barely hear it.
“Are you…okay?” Neal asked hesitantly, handing his knife back to her.
“You’re asking me that as you give me my knife back?” Emma asked, raising an eyebrow.
The two of them looked at each other for a moment before grinning at one another. It felt so nice to be able to smile and be lighthearted with Neal again.
The remnants of Hans and the arena seemed to disappear, leaving the vast and empty forest—and Neal—behind.
The smile quickly slid off her face as she was once again reminded of how isolated she was in the Victor’s Alcove. “Yeah, I’m…” she started before shaking her head. “No, I’m not fine. None of this is fine.”
She jerked her head along the trail. “C’mon, I’ve got a few more traps to check. Come with me?” Emma walked into the forest, not really sure if Neal was going to follow her. She was grateful when he fell into step beside her, not talking, but waiting for her to speak first.
She began to undo the second trap, taking the rabbit and putting in her pack. It was only when she was fully engrossed in her task that she found herself able to come up with the words at all.
“It sucks over there,” Emma finally started, not looking at Neal, her eyes firmly glued to the ground. “It’s just me and Henry in that big empty house all day long, I haven’t spoken to Killian or Whale in months, and everyone has treated me differently since I got back!” She looked back up at Neal. “Including you.”
“I’m sorry,” Neal said quietly. “I didn’t mean to…I just…”
“Yeah, I know,” Emma muttered unhappily. “You don’t know how to talk to me about the Games. Well, what if I don’t want to talk about the Games? What if, for just a minute, I want to be Emma again and not some Hunger Games winner?”
“It sucks that everyone is treating you like that,” Neal offered, helping her up as they continued through the forest.
“Yeah it really does suck,” Emma replied, kicking a loose stone on the ground. She looked over at Neal, hoping he would say something more. Even with the acknowledgement that what she was going through was hard, it still didn’t feel like enough. Then again, even when he walked beside her, there was something different about everything between them.
He wouldn’t look at her much, more looking ahead. He hadn’t really tried to tease her at all. She supposed she could chalk that up to her throwing a knife at him, but still, a chasm had formed between them since her return and it seemed to be growing with every passing day.
She wished she could ask him why he was being so cagey and evasive, but she wasn’t sure that he would give her a clear answer.
“So, Killian’s not talking to you?” Neal asked after a few minutes of silence. “I thought he was like your boyfriend or whatever.”
“He is, I guess,” Emma said with a shrug. “Or he will be again when they come back at the start of the Victor’s Tour.”
Neal snorted. “Some boyfriend.” He looked over at Emma appraisingly. “You know…I bet there are tons of Victors who have their cake and eat it too.”
“What does that mean?” Emma asked defensively, looking at him.
“I’m just saying like…if you didn’t really love him, you didn’t have to be with him all the time. You could find someone else. It’s not like they’d catch you—”
Emma stopped and stared at Neal in disbelief. Instinctually, she looked for cameras that were watching them, feeding back to Gold. She hadn’t forgotten the look in the President’s eyes when they came to the Palace for their ceremony. She hadn’t forgotten the look he’d given them when she returned home to Seven.
“This isn’t a conversation you and I should even be having!” she hissed. “Do you even know what kind of danger you’re putting yourself in just by saying that?” Neal’s eyes brightened with interest, as if he was privy to something Emma was not. She could see the gears turning in his head, and she added, “You can’t just say things like that, Neal.”
“Why not?” Neal asked excitedly.
“Just trust me on this, okay?” Emma spat at him.
She could see him visibly retreat into himself and she sighed. She wasn’t sure why things had to be so hard since she got home.
Everything had been so different. At first, she’d thought that during the Games she’d be fighting to come home, for things to get back how they were. And now, standing across from Neal—someone who she considered herself to be close to but hadn’t really spoken to since her return—she wasn’t even sure if normal was an option anymore.
Still, she couldn’t give it up without a fight. This was supposed to be her friend. And she still cared about him.
“Hey,” she said softly, stepping back to nudge him with her shoulder. “Wanna come to the market with me?” He seemed slightly hesitant and she tried again. “It’ll be just like old times.”
“Yeah?” The prospect seemed to cheer Neal up enormously. “You really want to?”
Emma found herself grinning back. “Of course, or I wouldn’t have asked. Let’s undo the other traps and go down.”
“Awesome! You should see the weaving that Cassidy’s doing lately, she’s making incredible blankets and stuff,” Neal said eagerly as he fell into step beside her. “And Rosalyn? She’s made tea out of all the stuff she grew in her grandmother’s garden! I mean, I never really liked it, but my mom said that the mint tea is awesome, and she’s been using the valerian root tea to help her sleep—”
“Tea helps you sleep?” Emma asked dumbly.
Neal shrugged. “I guess so. I don’t really believe in that kinda stuff, but my mom swears by it.”
I should get some from me and Killian, she thought almost immediately and then she nearly stopped. She had no idea if Killian was struggling the same way as she was.
He’s probably sleeping just fine…he’s the strongest person I know, she thought sadly. There was an undeniable ache that coursed through her, wishing she knew how he was doing. But at the same time, she’d been doing so poorly. If he’d been doing well, she’d surely only drag him down with her.
“Emma?” Neal asked, not reaching out for her, though it was clear that he wanted to make contact. “Where’d you go, Emma?”
“Me?” Emma asked. She shrugged. “I was just thinking how I could stand to sleep a little bit better. That’s all.”
Neal nodded as she moved to the next trap. “Y’know,” he said casually, leaning against a tree. “I’m sure there’s some kind of a harder drug for that.”
“Yeah, I’m not interested,” she replied, making sure to focus specifically on undoing the traps. “I’m fine.”
She’d seen what happened to people like Whale. As much as it hurt, she had no interest in becoming like that. Though her hands stilled on the trap as she wondered if that was how Killian had chosen to cope and that’s why she hadn’t seen him.
Should I go check on him? she thought. He hasn’t come to check on me…maybe he blames me.
“Is there something wrong with the trap?” Neal asked, not unkindly but maybe a little worriedly. A teasing smirk pulled at his lips, but it seemed strained, “Or did you just suddenly forget how to undo your own trap?”
“I can do it,” Emma retorted, a little smile pulling at her own lips again. She undid the trap and stuffed the rabbit into her satchel. “C’mon, I survived a Hunger Games, I bet I can survive anything District 7 can throw at me.”
“Not if I race you to the market,” Neal said, eyes sparkling with mischief. Before she could blink, Neal turned around and began sprinting toward town, yelling, “Last one there has to buy the other one lunch!”
“Hey, come back, you cheater! You only started running so that I’d get you something!” Emma gasped loudly, scrambling up onto her feet to sprint after him.
Chapter 2
Notes:
It’s so nice to be back writing and posting. My goal is to stay at least one chapter ahead of posting it not more. Although with what’s going on in the world and me mostly being in an area where I can’t do much, I do have a lot of time for writing. But, onto the chapter! Long and short of it? Emma is, unfortunately...Not Doing Well.
Trigger Warnings: Flashbacks, Animal Death
Chapter Text
It wasn’t so bad, Emma mused as she walked home with their wares. She was carrying far more than Neal, and it hadn’t been the money that influenced her choices.
Honestly, if she could help it, she rarely—if never—went on a shopping spree in the market.
She almost didn’t need to. There were plenty of people who—now that Emma had fame and fortune—wanted Emma to try their things so she would support them and sponsor them. They clamored for her attention at the market, hoping she’d choose to uplift them the way her life had seemingly been so uplifted when she was chosen as a Tribute.
Little ones would run up to her and ask for her autograph, all pressed around her waist, their eyes gleaming like stars. The autographs she didn’t mind so much when they were that little. It was nice to see a little kid’s face light up. It was like Henry’s face when he was a little kid and their parents would produce a piece of his favorite cake.
But it was so hard to walk around feeling like everyone’s eyes were on her at all hours of the day.
Her brother’s friends and classmates hadn’t really approached her, and often grimaced apologetically at her when their younger siblings or parents seemed to fawn over her. Based on the looks she got, and the occasional scrape or bruised cheek, she had the sense that Henry had taken a few swings on her behalf.
And while she didn’t condone violence, especially for a gentle boy like Henry, she also was the last person to say that violence was never the answer. It certainly seemed to have done the trick for now.
It was much better now than it had been when she first got home.
The first time, she’d been with Henry. It’d be so much, the swarms, the fear of being trampled that it was just like the Cornucopia all over again. And she didn’t react well to that at all. Her brother had been more protective of her than she’d ever seen from him and had guided her home quickly and safely.
It—much to her chagrin—became the first day of a larger trend, but still her brother was loyal and steadfast. And in its own way, made the strange and unsettling parts of being home again all the more bearable.
It’s not that it was even District 7’s fault she was having so much trouble…
“Was that okay?” Neal asked softly, coming up beside her. He’d done most of his shopping for his mother, but there was a new hunting knife around Neal’s waist that he’d been saving up for. “For you, I mean? Were you okay being there? Nobody bothered you too much or anything?”
“Yeah, it was fine,” Emma said. “I mean I’ll never get used to the way they want things from me…but I guess Killian and Whale don’t really make it over here much. So it’s exciting for them. And I think the novelty is finally wearing off and people are starting to remember that I’m just Emma Swan.”
“I know you didn’t say just Emma Swan,” he said dubiously, eyebrows shot up as he looked at her. “Emma, you pulled off one of the coolest Hunger Games wins in the last two or three decades. They’re treating you like a celebrity because you are one.”
“Yeah, but I wouldn’t have made it without Whale and Killian,” Emma objected.
“Who have all but disappeared from the picture since you guys got back a few months ago. What, are they too good for us?” Neal snorted, folding his arms over his chest.
“Well, it’s not like Whale really liked everyone before Killian and me,” Emma said defensively.
He rolled his eyes. “Please, Whale’s just been that weirdo loner for the last twenty-five years, I don’t know why you even bother caring about him. You don’t need to defend him. He’s not here. He’s hasn’t been here for you since you got home. So why bother?”
“Because he kept me alive,” Emma replied, her eyebrows furrowing. “And I don’t just mean as a mentor. I mean literally. He sent medicine when Killian and I were seriously injured.” Her shoulders squared and she clenched her jaw. “He’s not a weirdo. He’s the bravest man I know.”
“Well, you said Whale and Killian weren’t talking to you, so they can’t be that brave,” Neal replied, rolling his eyes.
“Well, it’s not like I’ve talked to them either,” Emma said with a huff.
“Why are you making excuses for them?” Neal asked. “It’s not like you. You’re always the first to call someone out when they’re being a bastard.”
“They’re not being bastards!” Emma proclaimed. Neal let out a disgruntled noise and rolled his eyes. So she continued, “It’s hard, okay? It’s hard when this huge thing is like the only thing you have in common with someone. It’s hard to go through this huge thing and have to take someone’s life and then go back to being alive…and there’s only a handful of people you get to share that with. And every day feels like you’re walking on eggshells because you don’t know who or what is gonna send you back there!”
“Pretty sure Whale avoids even being here since he orders more booze than food,” Neal snorted. “But how lucky for him. He gets to stay shut up in his home, not see anyone, and yet he can order all the food and booze he wants. No working at the lumber mills for old Whale, he’s living in the lap of luxury. Why should it matter to him that they’ve lowered the age range for work again?”
In the full light of day, there was a jagged scar on Neal’s arm that she had not noticed before. And she’d tried not to notice some of her former classmates’ missing fingers.
Then again… Her hand closed in around her own scar, and she tried not to think of the ugly wound on her leg.
“It’s not like he chose to murder a bunch of children,” Emma responded, marching on ahead. “I didn’t make that choice, and neither did Killian. We’re just trying to survive.”
Neal stopped a few feet behind her, and she turned around angrily.
“What?” she demanded.
“We’ve passed the gate,” Neal mumbled, not looking at her. “I…we can’t pass the gate. You know that.”
“Oh, you’re all for rebellion, but you can’t cross an invisible line?” Emma hissed angrily. “You’re all talk—”
“The punishment is being banned from even setting foot near this place, and I don’t think you’d like to lose your only friend, would you, Emma?” Neal spat back.
“It’s not like you’re being much of a friend right now!” Emma shouted.
“I’m trying to be a good friend but I don’t know what to do!” For the first time in all the years that she’d known him, there were real tears in Neal’s eyes. “I want to help you but I don’t know how…and you won’t let me.”
“I don’t really know either. I can’t give you answers because I don’t know what to do for myself,” Emma said quietly, all the fight draining out of her. Her whole body felt heavy as the sadness weighed on her. It was such a burden to carry and she knew she wasn’t meant to carry it alone, but…she felt like she had no one else to turn to, now that Whale and Killian weren’t talking to her.
She looked down with a sigh. “See, this is what I didn’t want. I didn’t want to be a burden on anyone else.” It was hard to swallow down the lump in her throat as she added softly, “And that’s all I am since I’ve gotten back.” Her shoulders curved forward defensively as she tried to retreat into herself.
“Hey…” Neal stepped closer to her and pulled her into a tight hug. Squeezing her eyes shut, she nestled in closer to him. “I don’t ever want to hear you say that about yourself again,” he scolded gently. “You’re not a burden. You’ve…you’ve fought a war more or less. It’s inspiring as hell, honestly. But I guess that must be really lonely too. No one really here knows what that’s like.”
“Except Whale and Killian,” Emma said softly. “And they’re ignoring me. And I know it’s probably because of what I did but--”
“That doesn’t make it right,” Neal protested, starting to get angry on her behalf again. “Look, I can’t say I know what they’re going through either but it’s not fair to leave you in the dark because they can. And honestly? I don’t know what their excuse is. The three of you have gone through the same thing and you’re the only one making an effort.”
Emma wasn’t sure it was so easy as Neal was making it out to be. Whale had been a pariah her entire lifetime, and Killian had mainly been an outcast from the District 7 society up until he’d volunteered for Henry. Still, her grip on everything seemed so tenuous that to strike up another argument with Neal was too risky. “Thank you,” she murmured softly.
He gently squeezed her to him, careful not to make the hug too tight. “Look, I know that I didn’t go through what you went through but…I’m here to try and make things better. If you’ll let me.”
“Thanks,” Emma whispered again. She closed her eyes and took in a few deep breaths, trying to ignore that it was Killian who’d taught her that trick for when she was too upset. “I think I’m okay now.” She tilted her head toward inside the Alcove. “Wanna walk me home? I think technically you’re allowed to if you believe there’s a threat to my safety.”
“And obviously a winner of the Hunger Games can’t walk the half a mile between the entrance of the Alcove and her front door alone,” Neal said seriously, though there was a glimmer of amusement hiding behind his eyes. “She needs a bodyguard of course. Because even though she spent two weeks in the arena, there may be a wild turkey that has it out for her. Or perhaps a particularly vicious squirrel.” Trying and failing to adopt a mask of seriousness, Neal added, “Well, I just simply can’t take that risk.”
In spite of her sadness, Emma smiled right back at him. “Well then, Mr. Cassidy. It seems that you have no choice but to walk me home,” she said loftily, arching an eyebrow at him.
“Ms. Swan! Emma!” Another voice sounded an Emma turned around.
She’d recognized the old man the minute he called for her. “Oh, hello, Mr. Fitzsimmons!” she greeted him, immediately trying to muster up some of the cheer and enthusiasm she felt she had to put on whenever she saw anyone from her District.
He was a meat vendor who normally sold his wares at the market, but Emma hadn’t seen him when she’d been with Neal before. Mr. Fitzsimmons was out of breath as he approached her and Neal. “I’d heard you came to visit us today, but I missed you. I wanted to make sure that you had the opportunity to choose from our finest pieces of meat!”
“Oh, well that’s very kind of you, but I—” Emma started, but then her voice failed her as she got a closer look at Fitzsimmons’s stock.
It was several dead birds—geese, chickens, ducks—with ropes around their necks.
It should’ve been fairly innocuous. But the last thing Emma had seen with something around its neck--
Imani stopped short.
The little girl’s gaze was transfixed on something above them, her eyes wide with horror and shock. Emma turned to follow Imani’s gaze and nearly dropped her pack as she did so. Above them was Abigail, one of District 8’s Tributes, hanging dead from the tree. The girl’s eyes were wide open still, her mouth hanging over.
It was more than clear to Emma that she had been there for a few days from the smell alone. The bugs were not a fairly pleasant sight either, and a wave of nausea rolled up in Emma’s stomach. A second jolt to her stomach accompanied the realization that this was one of the Tributes that Felix had talked about killing their first night.
“They never came to get her,” Imani whispered in shock. “They got the other tributes who’d died…why not her…”
Emma felt herself breaking into a cold sweat, her heart pounding against her chest. Suddenly her mouth felt too dry as she tried to keep herself in the moment. Her leg immediately flared up with pain as it had been in that moment and she felt herself getting nauseous all over again. The meat—which she knew was fresh and well-tended—suddenly smelled putrid, as if it had been out for a few days.
She was trying so hard to not have a complete and utter meltdown in front of Neal and Mr. Fitzsimmons, but it felt like her body was failing her.
You’re here! It’s okay! She wanted to tell herself, but couldn’t get past the feeling of being stuck in the arena. The trees and openness certainly weren’t helping, and suddenly it felt like every tree had a noose hanging from it.
“Emma?” Neal asked tentatively. “You’re looking a little pale…you good?”
Neal? Emma thought hazily. Neal wasn’t…he was at home, he wasn’t there.
She blinked slowly and looked at Neal, who was staring at her concernedly. Mr. Fitzsimmons stepped in closer and she stepped back, trying not to openly recoil in front of her neighbor. “I, um, we’re okay on meat for tonight,” she rasped. “But why don’t I send Henry over to you tomorrow?”
“Of course, Miss Swan!” Mr. Fitzsimmons said eagerly, putting his sale away. “Is there any meat in particular you’d like to reserve?”
Not being able to see it made it a little bit easier to get through the interaction, though if Emma was honest, she still felt like she was standing on a dangerous precipice. The landscape of the arena still danced at the corner of her vision, even though that didn’t make sense. Neal and Mr. Fitzsimmons hadn’t been in the arena.
“I, um, I’ll send my order in with Henry,” she choked out.
“Emma, dear?” Mr. Fitzsimmons asked worriedly. “Are you all right?”
“Mhmm!” Emma responded, trying to make eye contact with the man. Though if she was honest with herself, she felt like she was looking more through him than at him. “I, uh, just am a little dehydrated. I left my canteen back at the house.”
“Well, I could—”
Neal finally kicked into action, realizing that whatever was going on with Emma directly related to Mr. Fitzsimmons’s appearance. “I’ll walk her home and make sure she’s taken care of, Mr. Fitzsimmons!” he said, maybe a little too brightly. “Don’t you worry, I’m sure our hero of 7 just pushed herself a little too hard. You know how much she works, trying to see and speak to everyone she can!”
“Yes, and I know that everyone appreciates you trying to help them out, Emma,” Mr. Fitzsimmons said warmly. “Well, goodbye you too, and try not to stay out too late, Mr. Cassidy.”
“I won’t!” Neal said brightly, waving the old man off. He gently put his arm around Emma’s shoulder. “C’mon, Ems, let’s get you home…”
She felt like she was stumbling over her own feet as Neal guided her down the path back to the house. Her heart pounded against her chest. Faintly she could hear Neal trying to reassure her, trying to tell her to keep breathing.
But she wasn’t sure how she could keep breathing when it felt like Felix was right on top of her once again.
“Ems, stay right here, I’m gonna get Henry,” Neal soothed, gently sitting her down on the front step.
There was something about being manhandled that had Emma curling in on herself, rocking back and forth on her step.
Emma had thrown her door shut and locked it for good measure. With a primal scream of fury and despair she attempted to rip her dress off her. It was too tight and she found herself struggling to breathe, desperately clawing at the thing.
She squeezed her eyes shut with a small sob, tightening her arms around herself. “Killian…” she whispered.
“Emma!”
A small hand wrapped around hers and her eyes flew open.
Her brother smiled at her gently and squeezed her hand. “It’s okay, Emma,” he said softly. “Deep breaths. And just squeeze my hand. You’re right at home with me, not anywhere else.”
Behind him, she could swear that she saw Killian at his window, poised in readiness but not moving for some reason.
“Hey, hey,” Henry said in a soft but still cheerful tone. “Don’t look at what’s behind me. Just look at me, okay?” He smiled at her brightly. “Copy my breathing, okay? You know that I’m not in the arena…so know that you’re right here with me.”
“What is happening?” Neal demanded worriedly, looking down at them.
“Hey, take it easy,” Henry ordered, his eyes briefly flickering up to Neal. “You freaking out is only gonna make her worse. This is just something that happens, okay?” He made eye contact with Emma again. “C’mon, Emma. Take a deep breath. You can do it.”
Emma took in a deep and jagged breath and squeezed his hands tightly.
“Good job, Emma,” Henry praised softly. “Keep going.”
It took a few moments before her surroundings felt real again and she straightened her back. Opening her arms up to Henry, he all but tackled her and she clutched him tightly to her chest, one hand cupping the back of his head.
When she looked up to see if she had seen Killian at all, he didn’t seem to be there.
But she knew that Neal was, looking down on her anxiously. “Hey, I’m okay,” she said tiredly, resting her head against Henry’s. She tried to smile at him but it felt so forced and strained. “It happens, and you did the right thing.”
Her eyes fluttered shut as Henry nestled in closer to her, trying to protect her and take care of her.
“You sure you’re good, Emma?” Neal asked. He reached out like he wanted to touch her, but Emma just held Henry a little bit closer to him.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Emma said, looking down at Henry with a soft smile. “I couldn’t be in better hands.”
She stood up quickly, trying to avoid the shaking in her legs. “C’mon, kid, let’s go inside,” she said a little too brightly, pushing past Neal as she went into the house.
She closed the door behind her and didn’t bother to turn around to see if Neal would stay or go. She wasn’t even sure that she could.
“Hey, I got some stuff at the market,” she told Henry, trying to pretend it hadn’t happened, trying to pretend that none of it had happened. “I’ve got some really great potatoes and I—”
Henry’s arms wrapped around her so tightly that it almost took the air out of her lungs. She sighed and hugged him close again, cupping the back of his head with her hand. “I really am okay, kid,” she whispered softly, running her fingers through his hair. “You don’t have to worry about me.”
“Don’t I?” Henry asked, looking up at her. In the few months since the end of the Games, he’d certainly grown a little bit. His head no longer rested against her stomach and the depth of his gaze was certainly no longer as carefree.
She supposed she had to take some responsibility for that.
“It’s scary,” Emma agreed softly. “I’m not…totally used to it. But you do help.” Ruffling his hair, she added with a smile, “I wasn’t kidding about dinner. I’m starving. Wanna help?”
Henry beamed up at her. “Of course I do!”
Once they were both tearing into their dinners, Emma couldn’t help the sense of peace and security surround her again. It was the calmest she’d felt all day, and she knew it was mostly because of Henry and what he’d done for her.
“Hey, kid?” Emma asked softly.
“Mhmm?” Henry asked through a mouth full of mashed potatoes.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly, putting her fork down. “For making you take care of me since I got back.”
Henry stared at her, confusion written all over his face. “Why are you sorry for that?” he asked. “You’re my sister and I love you, why wouldn’t I take care of you?”
“Cuz you’re supposed to be the kid here,” Emma murmured affectionately. “And I’ve put a burden on you—”
“I don’t see it that way,” Henry said with a shrug, digging back into his food. “You’re my sister and I love you. Why wouldn’t I help you?” Emma’s mouth hung open in shock, not quite anticipating that and Henry continued, “You saw some things in the Games that were…really messed up.”
He shrugged and added, “Besides, you took care of me after Mom and Dad died, so why wouldn’t I take care of you? Killian says that it’s hard to manage big and heavy stuff alone, so…” He shrugged. “And you’re not talking to Killian for some reason. So, he can’t help you even though he probably gets it better than anyone.”
Guilt coursed through her and she looked down at her plate. Henry wasn’t wrong, Killian did know better than anyone, but she’d promised to give him space. She needed a little bit of space too, if she was honest. He was so entangled in all her experiences that she was worried how she’d react fi she saw him now, especially with how frequent her flashbacks had been since their return home.
“Did he do something to you?” Henry asked. When Emma didn’t immediately answer, he slammed his fork down on the table and pushed his chair back. “I’ll beat him up for you!”
“Henry, it’s okay,” Emma said softly, making sure to look up at her brother so he could see how serious she was. “Killian didn’t do anything. We agreed that we needed some time apart because the Games were so much.”
“Oh…” Henry said quietly, sitting back down. He was quiet for a moment before he asked, “Don’t you miss him?”
“I do,” Emma said quietly, looking down at her plate again. “But I don’t think he wants to see me right now.”
Henry scoffed. “He misses you like crazy! He asks how you are like every time I go hang out with him! So you both miss each other. Why can’t you just go talk to each other?”
“It’s not that simple, kid,” Emma sighed. “I don’t even know what I’d say to him if I went over there.”
Henry rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath, but a knock at the door drowned out his words. Henry brightened almost immediately, and Emma’s heart began to pound faster with both nerves and excitement. He gave his sister an encouraging nod and Emma stood up, smoothing out her clothes.
Taking a deep breath, she walked toward the door and opened it, just focused on getting there.
But it wasn’t Killian standing before her.
“Hello, Emma,” President Gold said with a soft sneer, looking just as terrifying and intimidating as she remembered. “It’s so good to see you again.”
Chapter 3
Notes:
At the end of last chapter, Gold showed up!! Just what exactly does he want? Well, you're about to find out...
Trigger Warnings: Flashbacks
Chapter Text
“I…um…President Gold,” Emma stammered, her eyes wide as she looked at the President of Misthaven looked serenely at her. Thankfully, some of her Games instincts kicked in, and she stammered, “W-w-won’t you come in, President Gold?”
A smirk curled over Gold’s lips as he stepped over the threshold of her home.
Her mind was whirring, trying to figure out why Gold was in their house, how he got there, what he wanted…
“Emma, is that—” Henry had bounded up behind her to see if it was Killian, and then he stopped short. His eyes flickered to Emma nervously, and he seemed to retreat into himself when he took in her stance.
“Henry, this is President Gold,” Emma said, trying to keep her voice as light as positive as she possibly could. She had to keep Henry safe. That was the goal, that had always been the goal. If she could just keep it light, keep everything normal, then Henry would be fine…
“He’s just come by for a visit, isn’t that nice?” she continued with a smile. “Go ahead, Henry. Don’t be rude to our guest. Say hello.”
“It’s, um, nice to meet you,” Henry mumbled, ducking his eyes to the floor. “Am I supposed to bow or something? I’m sorry, they haven’t taught us this in school yet…”
“That’s okay, young man. I find that there are some young people that have grown up in the Capitol, in my very own backyard, and aren’t nearly as polite as you are,” Gold said, putting his hand on Henry’s shoulder. The boy looked up at him but then looked back at Emma, silently asking for reassurance.
Emma nodded, trying not to clench her jaw too firmly or let any of her emotions get the best of her across her face. Gold left his hand on Henry’s shoulder, a clear reminder that there was collateral at stake and there was something in his eyes that told Emma that he, like her, had killed before.
After all, how could she not recognize that look in someone’s eyes? She saw it in her own eyes every morning since the Games.
She wished she could reach out to Whale or Killian telepathically, screaming that she needed help. She had no idea if what she was doing was right, or if she was going get them all killed or not.
Swallowing the scream that was building up in her throat, she choked out, “We just started eating dinner. Would you like to join us? I’m sure that it’s not what you’re used to in the Capitol but we make do all right, don’t we, Henry?” She smiled softly down at him.
Henry relaxed under Emma’s gestured and added brightly, “Yeah! It’s mashed potatoes and chicken and Emma makes the best mashed potatoes! She let me help with the chicken. I don’t make it as good as she does yet, but you’re welcome to join us.”
Even Gold seemed to soften a little bit at the offer. Bless Henry, Emma thought. If they’d actually gone the Games together, she was sure he would’ve won sponsors left and right.
“Thank you for the offer,” Gold said, his voice warm for a moment. But then his eyes flickered up to Emma and the coldness returned to his gaze. “But I was only in the neighborhood. And I stopped by to see if I could borrow your sister for a minute.”
Liar, Emma thought sourly.
He kept looking at Emma, the slow smirk coming back to his face as he added, “If you don’t mind letting me have her for just a moment, Henry. I promise I’ll give her right back and the two of you can get back to your dinner.”
Henry’s gaze flickered up to Emma again and she nodded subtly. “Um, yeah, I guess it’s all right,” he said softly, shifting out of Gold’s hold. “You did come all this way. I can…uh…just get fruit or something ready for dessert.”
“A good lad,” Gold said, smiling thinly. Now he was fully facing Emma, and even though he wasn’t actually that much taller than her, it felt like he was all but towering over her. “Now, Emma, my dear…is there a place we can go? Just to have a quick chat?”
“Yeah, right this way,” Emma said, leading him to the office.
It was a room she rarely ever used, but it was far enough removed that they couldn’t be heard or seen, which she was hoping would earn her some brownie points. She figured there was no way Gold was here to murder her, not with the press tour starting soon and Henry literally in the house.
As she passed, she gently cupped Henry’s face in her hands and kissed his forehead to reassure him that everything was all right. “It’s just a minute,” she said softly. “Okay?”
“Okay,” Henry said with a nod. “I’ll just keep eating dinner.”
“Just don’t eat mine, okay, kid?” Emma said with a quiet laugh that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
Henry beamed up at her and she kissed his forehead before turning away and heading to the office with Gold.
For a moment, the two of them stood, staring at one another, before Gold began to pick at things at on the desk. He methodically picked things up and turned them over in his hand before putting them down again. There wasn’t much, mostly decorated things that people in the town had given her.
“You haven’t done much with this room,” Gold noted, looking around the room. “Or not much with the house we gave you at all.”
“President Gold, it’s good to see you,” Emma said quietly, folding her arms over her chest. “And, I…uh…didn’t have much when I moved in. This is all I’ve gotten since then, and this is where I put it. It’s a good tribute to my district.”
“How quaint,” Gold sneered softly, still looking at the items on the desk. Then, sitting down in the chair and looking up at her, he added, “Oh, Ms. Swan. We both know there’s no need to lie.” Emma opened her mouth to reply, but he cut her off again. “It’s all right, my dear. I’m not particularly pleased to see you either. But I thought you needed to be apprised of…the situation?”
“The situation?” Emma echoed, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. “I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”
“Oh, but I think you do,” Gold replied, the high pitch of his voice setting Emma’s nerves on edge. As low as the volume was, and as it pleasant as it seemed, there was still a prominent degree of malice to his words that kept Emma on edge.
It reminded her of those damn beasties the end of the Games…even the memory of their maniacal shrieks was enough to keep Emma from repressing a shiver.
“Do you know…there’s a phrase that I often use with the Victors a few months of winning,” Gold said pleasantly. “And it came to my attention that you’re not familiar with it just yet.”
“Oh yeah?” Emma replied, trying to figure out where he was going, where the sudden change in tone had come from.
She didn’t need to wait long, as his glittering, saurian eyes swept back up to her. “Oh yes indeed, dearie,” he said softly, his voice high and needling. “All victory comes with a price, Miss Swan.”
“Wasn’t the price the murder of twenty-three other people?” Emma muttered.
“Twenty-two!” Gold corrected sharply, slamming his hand down on the desk as the timbre of his voice immediately dropped. Emma flinched at the sound. “Twenty-two,” he repeated, his voice going back to the soft tone it always seemed to take. “Or have you forgotten your…paramour?”
He paused over the word deliberately, which did not feel good in any way, shape or form.
“I haven’t forgotten him,” Emma said evenly, wishing she’d planted a weapon in the room to defend herself with even though Gold hadn’t outwardly threatened her yet. She shifted her shoulders, trying to keep from scowling deeply.
“Sure, you haven’t, dearie,” Gold replied, arching an eyebrow at her. “But do you know something, Miss Swan?” He stood up again and began walking slowly across the room, and Emma stayed still, just watching him. “You and Mr. Jones haven’t paid much of a price.”
Haven’t I? Emma thought desperately, thinking of the flashback she’d endured earlier in the day.
“Do you know who has paid your price?” Gold asked softly, looking out the window and not even bothering to acknowledge her. “Your little stunt has caused Pan to take…a leave of absence from his position.”
“I’m sure it was very willing,” Emma snorted in spite of herself.
Gold looked over his shoulder with a little half-smile on his lips. “There was an unfortunate accident when Pan was gathering his beasties after the Games,” he said affably.
“An accident,” Emma repeated slowly.
“Oh, he’s alive, and he’ll be designing the Quarter Quell,” Gold answered. “But he’s not the only one who has had to pay the price for your Victory, Miss Swan. There are plenty of us in the Capitol who have had to pay the price too.”
“The Capitol?” She felt so stupid just repeating the last thing Gold was saying but he kept throwing information at her that she felt she was barely keeping up. She wasn’t sure how it all fit together.
“There is a shortage of textiles coming into the Capitol these days,” Gold answered her, his fingers dancing along the cabinet tops as if he was looking for something. “And the ones are coming in are almost completely unusable. The only thing that is tangible on them…a symbol.”
Emma resisted the urge to ask about the symbol at the risk of sounding too repetitive. She just stared silently, waiting for the President to continue. Her heart was pounding in her chest, as she started to put the pieces together.
And then she got it.
“It’s a swansong, isn’t it?” she whispered. Gold looked at her, his face completely devoid of emotion. “But I don’t understand…why would people be putting the swansong on things? The Games are over. They haven’t seen or heard from me and Killian in months…”
“Oh, it is incredible what people will do when they see someone take a stand isn’t it?” Gold asked sardonically. “And it’s all because of one little thorn. You’ve put the whole system in danger…and all it took was one little thorn.”
“Must be a bigger thorn that it looks,” Emma snarked, her shoulders squaring up for a fight. Her heart was pounding in her chest, feeling like she was stuck in the Games all over again. “Or a pretty weak system.”
“Ahh, but do you really want to be the one who ruins it for everyone?” Gold asked, a little too serenely for the conversation. “For all the citizens of the Misthaven? Just ripping the rug right out from underneath them. Completely disrupting the lives they live…the services they get from us.” He paused and added, “That includes Henry. Killian. And Neal.”
“How do you know about Neal?” Emma demanded, immediately unfurling from her position.
“I’m the ruler of Misthaven, do you think I don’t know about him?” Gold asked harshly, wheeling around to face Emma fully for the first time. “And that’s how I know that you don’t care for Killian the way you say you do.”
“Leave him out of this! Leave both of them out of this!” Emma snarled, stepping forward to stand toe to toe with Gold.
“Oh, but Killian is a Victor too, isn’t he?” Gold asked, turning to her with hints of that damnable, unsettling smirk on his face. “And he’s been living here quite peacefully, don’t you think?”
“Killian didn’t have anything to do with this! There’s no need for him to pay any kind of price!”
“Oh, I know he didn’t,” Gold said a smile crossing his face, as if Emma had suddenly given him all the leverage he needed. “And that’s why you’re gonna do exactly as I say. Because I’m tired of paying the price for you, Emma. It’s time for you to pay a price of your own.”
She felt trapped. She wanted to keep fighting, but also any fighting she did would put her loved ones in danger. And she couldn’t be responsible for hurting Killian anymore than she thought she had. She was the one who dragged him to the Games, who asked him to fight with her and alongside her, and who couldn’t spare him when things got too hard.
And Gold had mentioned Henry.
She had no power to stop Henry from going to the Games—Killian had to do that for her last year—but she could stop Henry from getting hurt.
“I have terms,” Emma said quietly. “You leave Killian and Henry out of it. Whatever this is. Leave them out of it. I’ll stay away from Neal and amp things up with Killian.” Gold was quiet, mulling this idea over before Emma repeated desperately, “Killian didn’t have anything to do with this.”
“You know I don’t believe you that Jones is as witless as you say he is,” Gold replied stepping in closer to her and leaning over her. “He seems to act in his own way, and while I don’t know his motivations, I don’t know that I particularly care to know them either. All I know is that the little orphan club? There’s very little that you care about on this earth. But there are a few things that do unite you. So, the ultimatum is for both of you: you diffuse the situation, or I’ll kill the thing you both care about.”
All the color immediately drained from her face and her knees began to shake. “No,” Emma rasped. “But I…how am I supposed to…?” she asked, looking up wildly.
“It’s not my job to figure that out,” Gold sneered imperiously at her. “Goodnight, Emma.”
She walked him out, her body shaking from head to toe. She stood, staring blankly at the wall as she began to tremble.
Her body began to sink to the floor, her breathing picking up once again as the panic took over.
“Emma?”
She blinked and Imani stood right in front of her. Trees swirled around her, but the leaves felt off and jarring. Was it a trick of the arena?
“Imani?” she rasped softly.
“No, no it’s Henry…” Henry’s voice came out of Imani’s mouth and Emma brought her hand to her head, trying to clear it. This had to be a Games trick, right? Something to get her to keep her guard down so that someone could kill her. “Emma, it’s okay…”
“No, no,” Emma whispered. “They’re coming. We have to hide, Imani…we can’t let them catch us.”
There were footsteps and then a door slammed, the sound rattling around in her skull, rustling the treetops in the arena. She could hear one, but it made no sense. Why was there a door in the arena? Why had Henry been there? He wasn’t supposed to be there at all. Had there been some mistake?
Her breath quickened as she tried to find some sense of bearing, wondering where anyone was and why she couldn’t find them. It felt like it took every ounce of her being to get a breath and her frantic thoughts were clawing at the inside of her skull. She felt her body began to rock, and all at once she felt like water was rising around her.
“Emma!” Killian’s voice cut across the arena and she turned to look for him but couldn’t find him.
She opened her mouth to speak, to call him back, but nothing seemed to come out.
“I left her in the kitchen!” Henry’s voice called from nearby. “I don’t know what happened! She came out of the back room and all of a sudden she was like this!”
The kitchen? She thought, still not quite understanding what was happening. Am I...?
Suddenly, her hand closed around something real and solid. The water receded and even though the forest didn’t quite disappear, there was something new in her line of sight.
“Killian,” she gasped, and he smiled softly up at her.
“Aye, there’s my lass,” Killian whispered tenderly. “Squeeze tight, and let's bring you out of there.”
“Why is Henry in the arena?” she whimpered. “I keep hearing him…he’s not supposed to be here, Killian! He’s not!”
“He’s not there, he’s home, as are you,” Killian promised. “Breathe with me. Just like the night before the games. Can you do that for me, Emma?” She nodded frantically and squeezed his blunted wrist more firmly.
“Again,” he ordered. “And harder. You can do it. You’re right here with me. You’ve made it home. Come back to me, love.”
It took a few minutes of breathing, but the arena started to fade. At first, she thought Killian would fade with it, but he was there. Warm and steadfast as always.
“You okay?” he asked her softly, running his thumb over her knuckles. He didn’t look at her when he added, “Awful things, aren’t they?”
She nodded, still shaking.
“I get them too.”
With that knowledge, Emma pulled Killian into her arms, burrowing her face against the nape of his neck. Killian tensed for a moment before wrapping his arms around her and burying his face against her hair.
“Missed you,” she whispered. Her hand found the back of his head as she tried to pull him closer to her.
“Missed you too,” Killian replied, into her hair, as if it was a secret to be shared between the two of them.
“We need to talk, don’t we?” Emma asked against his skin. He chuckled and nodded, curling around her more protectively.
“Does this mean you guys are friends again?” Henry asked hopefully, and both Emma and Killian broke apart from each other, yet did not go very far.
Emma just smiled and opened her arm open up to Henry who rushed into them. Killian wrapped his arms around both of them. The three of them sat on the kitchen floor together until Emma tilted her head and started to pull away.
“Can you go make some tea for your sister, lad?” Killian asked gently, squeezing Henry’s shoulder. “It might help her settle down some.” Henry nodded and raced to the cabinets to get the teapot.
Killian slid over to sit next to Emma. “Are you really all right now?” he asked her softly.
“All right enough,” Emma responded softly, resting her head against his shoulder. She closed her eyes as she rested her head there. Her shoulders slumped and she exhaled softly, feeling the warmth of Killian beside her. “We really need to talk, don’t we?” she whispered softly.
“About the flashbacks, or about something else?” Killian asked, his own voice barely higher than a whisper.
She looked for a sign of his face that he’d seen Gold come out of her house, or that Gold maybe had visited Killian on his own. But Killian only seemed concerned for Emma and her wellbeing.
It didn’t seem right to burden Killian with the knowledge of what Gold was planning for all of them. After all, she was the one who dragged Killian into this, and he was already paying the price for survival.
And she wasn’t going to let him pay a steeper price.
“How are you?” she asked softly, afraid to speak louder. It felt like maybe he would disappear if she raised her voice at all. As warm and solid as he was, she still felt like maybe he would fade, like he made the arena fade, like Imani faded, like how everything seemed to fade the harder she tried to hold onto it.
“Oh, well you know me,” Killian said with a shrug, smiling thinly down at her.
She’d immediately remembered that night before the Games, where he’d said the same thing, given her a look that was nearly identical to the one he was giving her now. Except this look held so much more weight to it now, as if Killian had aged twenty years in the last few months.
“I do know you,” Emma murmured encouragingly. “It’s okay.”
Killian sighed and looked down at her affectionately, a hint of an exasperated smile on his lips. “You do know me,” he agreed after a few minutes of looking at her like that. The smile soon faded from his lips. “I…Archie warned me about this. When he and Mulan came to visit. I wish I’d taken him more seriously.”
“Lucky you, Snow and David didn’t prepare me for this at all,” Emma grumbled, resting her head on his shoulder. She felt the vibration of his chuckle against her skin and she closed her eyes. She couldn’t explain how wonderful it felt to be near him again.
For the first time in months, she finally felt like she was on solid ground. She could let her guard down, even just for this moment, and just be.
“They really are awful, aren’t they?” Killian asked, though she knew the question was rhetorical. They both knew just how awful the flashbacks could get. “And they’re so real…it’s like a nightmare but you’re awake…like you’re right back in the middle of it.”
He let out a bitter noise as he added, “Henry’s truly been a lifesaver in all this. Whale has been drinking up a storm and that’s his only advice to deal with it. And it’s not like there’s anyone else I could turn to.” He paused and his arm shifted. He was going to scratch behind his ear, she just knew it. “I really did want to give you space,” he told her earnestly.
“I know you did,” Emma told him. “And I appreciate it. Means a lot to me that you wanted to respect my wishes.”
“There were some days where I wanted more than anything to just…come over,” Killian admitted quietly. “When it was just so…so much. But I didn’t want to put you through it or trigger you. Henry kept mentioning you were having a hard time, and I was so scared of dragging you down with me.”
Emma’s heart felt like it was snapping in two. She couldn’t deny the ache that accompanied the realization that he’d been suffering the same way she had and hadn’t spoken to her for the same reason she hadn’t spoken to him. She opened her eyes so she could look up at him, to show him she was paying attention now.
“I saw you earlier on the steps and I knew,” Killian said quietly. “And I almost left the house. I wanted to come over because I knew that you were hurting, but I thought…I thought maybe I’d trigger you and make everything worse if I came over.”
So Killian at the window hadn’t been a part of her hallucination.
“I’m glad Henry came to get you,” she said quietly, her fingers tracing the scars on his wrist. There was something soothing about holding the blunted edge where his hand had been. It was achingly familiar, and she relished in it. His fingers seemed to dance across the scar on her hand.
“You know I’d always look over here when things seemed unbearable,” Killian admitted, the tips of his ears turning red. “And I’d watch you and Henry through the big window in the front. And it always…seeing some normalcy happening just…made it all so much easier.”
He jerked his head toward the boy making tea. “And Henry helped. More than I could ever possibly say.” A bitter smile crossed his face. “Every time he helped me through something, I couldn’t help but…think of what you’d said. In the Games.” He looked down at her, guilt and regret chasing themselves across his face. “You were right.”
“I wanted to avoid it more than anything,” Emma muttered, ducking her head for a moment to look at the floor. She was so angry that Henry had to take on so much since they’d come back from the Games. She knew Henry was hanging Killian but didn’t know that he’d been helping Killian through flashbacks.
“I know,” Killian said quietly, not looking at her either. With a heavy sigh, he added, “It’s a terrible thing. Growing up too fast.”
Emma gave his wrist a squeeze, finally looking up at him again. She gave him a gentle smile and softly kissed his cheek. “Thanks for trying to protect us both,” she whispered softly. “Even though the Games are over.”
The bitter smile was still on Killian’s face, but he pressed his forehead to hers. “You’re welcome,” he said softly.
He stood up, as if to go, but Emma tightened her hand on him. “Wait!” she exclaimed. She couldn't let this feeling go, not when she'd just gotten him back. “I…do you want to stay the night?” Killian’s eyebrows nearly shot up to his hairline and Emma’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “Not for that!” she squeaked.
Henry turned his head to look at them confusedly before turning around to the kettle when it started to whistle. He squeaked and turned around, to take it off the stove and get the tea ready for them to drink.
“It…it seems silly for us to have this heart to heart and then go back to the way things were,” Emma said with a tiny little shrug. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too, Swan,” Killian said softly. He cupped her face in his hand, the thumb gently dancing along her cheekbone.
“So stay?” Emma asked, her voice dropping to a whisper, practically strangled by the tenderness of the action.
“For you, Swan?” Killian murmured softly. “Anything.”
Chapter 4
Notes:
YAY! Emma and Killian are reunited and talking to one another again! Just in time for the Victor's Tour to start. But first, their tour gets its own little kick off, and some familiar faces come back into play!
Trigger Warnings: None!
Chapter Text
Though she still hadn’t slept through the whole night, it was nice to sit on the couch watching the sunrise with Killian beside her.
Well…not right beside her.
He had joined her only an hour after she’d woken up from her nightmare. His eyes had been wild and desperate as his chest heaved. She’d only smiled sadly at him and asked him if he wanted to sit with her. She sat on the opposite side of the couch, wanting to give him space, knowing that being crowded made her flashbacks worse.
So, they sat on the couch, watching late-night Capitol television until the sun started to rise. They’d laughed lightly at humorous bits together, or Killian had laughed when Emma made a snide comment under her breath. As the sky started to lighten, Killian had asked if she wanted more tea and she said yes. Since then, they had sat in a comfortable silence, just drinking their tea.
Even though Emma was thinking long and hard now that the sun was rising, there hadn’t been a need to speak. There was something so freeing about being able to sit in silence with him. But now as the light of day hit the room and illuminated them, there was something that had been highlighted in Emma’s mind that she couldn’t stop obsessing over it.
She and Killian hadn’t gotten the chance to talk about them yet. Sure, they’d just talked about what they’d gone through last night and seemingly come to a mutual understanding. They both admitted that they missed the other. It was so easy to touch him and let him comfort her again, just like they had been in the arena.
It was almost like the flashback she had last night triggered an instinct that Emma had wanted to work through before she saw Killian again, so they could talk about them.
But they hadn’t talked about them.
And that was the problem, wasn’t it?
Emma couldn’t deny how much it was nice to have Killian back in her life. Just knowing he was there, that she could talk to him and they were at least speaking to each other again.
It’s just…the cameras weren’t far away. Which meant they would be Swansong yet again.
They would thrust back into a different kind of Games, a veritable minefield of all the things they’d spent the last few months trying to get away from. But she knew she would do anything she could to help him get through, especially with Gold’s threat weighing heavily in the back of her mind.
She just wasn’t sure if she was going to be enough.
And if she was honest, she wasn’t sure she was in a place where she wanted to be romantic and lovey-dovey with someone. But Killian deserved to know what she was thinking. He had told her that he cared for her, and that he would follow her lead or not pursue it if she told him no.
She wasn’t even sure how she felt about Killian right now. Did she love him the way that he loved her? Or even the way she thought he deserved to be loved? She wasn’t sure that she was capable of that kind of love, and it wasn’t right to Killian to string him along. For all he gave, he deserved someone who would give it back to him in kind,
It was easy to be affectionate with him, and it was so easy to just be with him as a person, but she could see sometimes how much he wanted.
She still wasn’t sure if she wanted though.
Of course…
As long as they were alive, they would have to be together during the Games. And a Victor’s Tour if they ever trained a Victor.
And she liked Killian well enough for that to be okay. But there was something that made her sad at the idea that maybe Killian wouldn’t be happy if they were together for the rest of their lives if she didn't feel as strongly as he did.
And if anyone she knew deserved to be happy for the rest of their lives, it was Killian.
“I can smell the smoke coming out of your ears, love,” Killian said through a yawn. “You’re thinking way too hard for this early in the morning.” Emma looked over at him, about to ask how the hell he could’ve known she was thinking. “Open book, love,” he said, lifting his mug toward her.
“Oh yeah?” Emma asked, turning back to the television, sipping at her mug. “And what does the page you’re on say?”
Killian pursed his lips and turned away from her. “You’re worried about something. It has to do with me since you’re not telling me exactly what’s going on in that gorgeous blond head of yours.” He paused for a moment, as if he was going to say something but then he changed his mind.
“How do you know I’m not worried about Whale?” Emma asked, looking down at her mug. “I haven’t spoken to him in months, I have no idea how I’m supposed to just like talk to him again.” In a smaller voice, she added, “He probably hates me.”
“He doesn’t hate you,” Killian told her seriously, moving a little bit closer to her. She leaned back against the arm of the couch to try and maintain her distance. She wasn’t sure why she was panicking now when she let him be so close last night, and he seemed as confused by this as she was. “What makes you think he hates you?” he added.
She was quiet for a few minutes, not sure if she could face him or even explain to him what she had been thinking. But every time her eyes would flicker toward him, he seemed too earnest and heartbroken and desperate to help, she couldn’t help herself. “I thought you hated me too until you showed up yesterday,” she admitted quietly, still not looking at him.
“Emma…” The heartache in his voice prompted her to pick her head up and really look at him. He looked wrecked by this discovery, and she could see him starting to chastise himself for not coming over sooner to dissuade her of the idea that he hated her because of what happened to them. “Of course I don’t hate you. Why would I ever hate you?”
“Lots of reasons,” she mumbled, thinking of Gold’s visit the night before. Even the memory of what the President had threatened caused her skin to break out in goosebumps and her breathing to pick up.
Killian picked up on it immediately and shifted back to give her a little space. “Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay,” he soothed. “You’re home, Emma. You’re safe. Nothing is going to happen to you. Not while I’m here.” She nodded and gave him a weak smile, to show that she was with him. “You tell me when you’re ready,” he murmured softly. “I’m not going anywhere, Emma.”
She smiled down at her mug, knowing that he really cared and that he really meant what he was saying. “Even if I’m not ready to talk about…us?” she asked hesitantly as if somehow this would make him get up and leave.
“Even then,” he promised softly. He paused and added, “Although, we might have to talk about us soon. The tour starts today.”
“Seriously?” Emma asked, groaning as she flopped back against the couch.
“Did you forget?” Killian asked with some amusement.
“I tried to!” Emma huffed, kicking the leg of the table. Killian chuckled and she looked over at him, crossing her arms over her chest. “Not because of you,” she muttered, feeling like she had to explain herself to him.
“Because of them.”
Emma blinked owlishly and she sat up, dropping her arms. It was almost scary how fast they’d gotten back on the same page after having spent months apart.
Then again, they’d been on the same page when they split apart.
“Because of them,” she said softly.
“If I’m honest,” Killian started slowly. “I’m scared of what this might dredge up. What if we’re in the middle of it and I have an attack?”
“I’ll catch you,” Emma promised, making sure that he really looked at her, so he could see how much thought she’d given this. “Like you caught me.” She reached out to slip his hand into hers and gently interlocked their fingers. “It’ll be just like the Games. We’ll go out and we’ll do what we have to do to protect each other.”
Killian smiled gently and squeezed her hand. “It’s nice to know you’re worried about the same things I am,” he admitted. He looked at her appraisingly, catching the nerves she thought she’d hid so well and added, “Just having you there will help. Don’t doubt yourself, Emma.”
She let out a weak chuckle and squeezed his hand. Affectionately, she told him, “I think I’m going to get tired of how well you can read me.”
There was a hint of sadness to Killian’s smile, and he opened his mouth to respond, but then a knock sounded at her door. Her hand tore itself out of Killian’s as a defensive measure.
“Noooo,” Emma whined, knowing that if someone was here at the crack of dawn, it was probably Tink and the crew, ready to dress them up for what lay before them.
“We were going to have to face the music sometime, Swan,” Killian reminded her with a shrug. Tilting his head toward the door, he said, “Go on. Answer your door. If it is really Tink, she’ll break it down if you don’t answer in the next two seconds anyway.”
“Good point,” Emma groused, pushing herself up off the couch. When she was fully stood, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath before forcing herself to smile. Walking over to the door, she opened it with a chipper, “Good morning!”
“Emma!” Tink’s arms were around her before Emma could even blink, and Emma quickly hugged the woman back. “Oh, my dear girl! It’s so good to see you!”
Tink was dressed to the nines, hair and make-up already done, and she clearly relished in being able to show off another Victor that wasn’t Whale.
And maybe it was good to see her too, after having been away from other people for so long.
Though the feeling was immediately soured by a cameraman zooming in on her face.
“She’s just as beautiful as we remembered!” Tatiana cried, immediately cupping Emma’s face in her hands. “Though we’ll have to do something about those bags under her eyes…you know my friend makes a cream—”
She was broken off by Mab’s cry of delight, “Why, Killian! You’re already here!”
Tink, Tatiana and Mab immediately rushed past her to go say hello to Killian, the camera crew immediately following them inside the house as they all chattered excitedly. Emma smiled bitterly at the domestic scene, which she was sure the Capitol was going to eat up.
On the one hand, it would help her with Gold.
On the other…this had been something that was just theirs, and she’d wanted to keep it that way.
“You’re not even gonna say hello, huh, Swansong? Too wrapped up in being a love bird these days?” a voice asked, amusement coloring his words.
Emma’s eyes lit up and a burst of joy passed through her for the first time. “Merlin!” she cried joyously and all but threw herself into her stylist’s arms. With a laugh, he caught her and spun her around.
“It’s good to see you Emma,” Merlin said warmly, putting a hand on her shoulder. Though his smile immediately faded when he took her in. “You’re thinner than when I last saw you,” he murmured.
A startling notion given that one of the last times he’d seen her was when she’d fought for her life for two consecutive weeks.
“You doing okay?” he asked, dropping his voice so low that she was the only one who could hear him.
“Not really,” she whispered back. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Tinkerbell heading toward them and she added hurriedly, “I’ll tell you more later.”
Merlin nodded and squeezed her shoulder sympathetically, the worry from his eyes not quite leaving.
“Oh, isn’t it wonderful, Emma?” Tinkerbell squealed, clasping her hands together. “You know, Merlin designed this for me right after you and Killian won, and I have to say I’m so thankful he did!” She looked over at Merlin and added, “I can’t even imagine how high in demand you are now!”
“Well, fame isn’t really for me,” Merlin said with a shrug. “I still take on the projects I want to take on.” He looked at Emma and added sincerely, “Well, the projects that I think are going to have meaning.”
“Oh, come, there must be some benefits of being the Capitol’s ‘it’ designer right now!” Tinkerbell gushed.
The camera crew were back, getting all the angles of the conversation.
She looked back over at Killian and he looked at her sadly and gave her a little shrug, as if to say, “We’re really back in it now, aren’t we?”
“Well, I don’t know if I’d consider myself famous,” Merlin said, in response to a question that Emma guessed a camera crew had asked him, based on the way Tink’s lips were pursed together. “But there is a lot of attention that I find a little bit chafing and restrictive.”
“Same,” Emma muttered under her breath.
The corner of Merlin’s mouth twitched upward in amusement, and he added, “But if people like my designs and want to see more of them, then that makes me happy, and I’m sure they’re going to love what I’ve cooked up for our favorite fighter couple.”
God, how is everyone so good at this? Emma thought, feeling herself get frustrated.
“Emma!” Tinkerbell gasped, and Emma nearly jumped a foot in the air. “Does this mean your brother is here? Henry?” She grabbed Emma’s hands, and added earnestly, “I would love to meet him if he’s awake!”
Looking Tink in the eye, there was no doubt of her sincerity, and somehow Emma felt warmed knowing that even despite the circus, that there were some things that didn’t change.
That there were people who clearly cared deeply about her.
“Umm, yeah, let me go wake him up,” Emma said, all but turning on her heel to Henry’s room. “He’s a really heavy sleeper, so I wouldn’t be surprised if he was still sleeping,” she laughed weakly.
“Oh, I’ll come with you!” Tinkerbell said, looping her arm through Emma’s. It was only when they were clear of the cameras that Tink added softly, “You’re doing great.” Her thumb ran soothing circles across Emma’s arm. “Just pretend that they aren’t there. It’s the best way to get through it.”
Emma looked at Tinkerbell in a way that must’ve looked close to shock and stammered out her thanks quietly.
“Dear, I’ve been around a long time. I’ve seen a lot of Victors nervous for their tour, especially ones that are from Districts like ours,” Tink said kindly. “You’re not the first person to feel anxious about the cameras being back in their face again. It’s understandable. After all, the cameras…well, they’re indicative of a lot of scary things, aren’t they?”
Emma stopped short, blown away by what Tink had said, and moreover that Tink even noticed them. But what struck her the most was that Tink had said ‘ours’.
It felt like such a change from a few months ago. Is that what winning really did? Emma asked herself.
She’d spent so long feeling isolated from the world she’d come home to, though she hadn’t meant it was because she found a new world altogether. On the one hand, it was a relief to know that she was going to be thrust back into the arena with people who got it.
Yet…the thought of being relieved stirred up some guilt in her. She had the swansong pin—her mother’s pin—that once made her feel like she could do anything, but now it was the heaviest burden she could carry.
I wish she was here, Emma thought sadly, looking down at the floor. Mom would know what to do. And Henry wouldn’t have to deal with me alone, and I wouldn’t--
“Emma?” Tink asked gently, squeezing Emma’s hands with the lightest of touches.
Emma’s lip quivered for a moment and she launched herself to hug Tink tightly, trying to return the gesture.
Tink’s hand rested on the small of her back, gently rubbing it. “Don’t you worry, Emma,” she murmured, perhaps a little too knowingly for Emma’s liking. “We’re all here now.”
--
“Victor, could you put down the booze for fourteen seconds and listen to me!” Tinkerbell shrieked as the man in question slouched in his chair, ineffectively batting away any stylist who tried to help him.
He’d come in, stumbling and wreaking of a distillery. Whale had given her one long look full of an unreadable emotion, before turning away and immediately knocking over a potted plant.
“Well, looks like Tinkerbell has the hardest job of all today,” Merlin said, watching the scene unfold as he braided Emma’s hair.
“Oh yeah?” Emma muttered, wanting to pick at her nails or something and finding she couldn’t.
Lowering his voice, Merlin added playfully, “Yeah. She’s got to make sure that Whale looks sober for the entirety of the time you’re on camera.” He paused for a moment before asking, “You’d think we were asking her to make pigs fly.”
Emma burst out laughing in spite of herself and it felt so nice to laugh. Just a swooping sensation upward in her chest that didn’t have any bitterness or anger behind it. It was the first time she had well and truly laughed in so long.
Their mentor sat in the back of the car with them, watching them out of the corner of his eye. “Do I have to give you two the sex talk?” he asked flatly. Both Emma and Killian started but did not move away from each other. “I’m just saying…if you need it, better have it now before it’s too late.”
Killian and Emma made eye contact, and they both couldn’t help but burst out laughing. In its own way, it was the perfect way to break the silence.
“Is that part of our mentoring?” Emma asked, resting her head on Killian’s shoulder.
“In a way,” Whale said, but he didn’t look as amused about the whole thing as they did. He ran his hand over his face. “All right, remind me to do that after the ceremony,” he muttered.
It was the last time she’d ever truly felt like laughing. It felt so ridiculous that even something like sex was something they’d need to be coached in.
Since coming home, there hadn’t too much joy in a lot of things, so what even was the point of laughing about anything?
Merlin caught her change in mood and squeezed her shoulder sympathetically.
“Whale, for god’s sake!” Tinkerbell screeched. “Can I just give you the injection to get you through the video conference for goodness sakes!”
Whale glowered up at Tinkerbell and for the first time, Emma could see that the whites of his eyes were now yellow. Several bruises stood out on his too pale skin, and his ankles seemed to be swollen against his thin frame.
“Whale,” Emma breathed out worriedly, standing up out of her chair. “Do you want…toast or something? Water?”
“Not hungry much these days,” Whale muttered.
“Please, Whale…something.” She hated the begging note her voice took on. How had her mentor seemed so much worse in the few months that they’d been apart?
A sudden horrified gasp escaped through her lips, when she thought of Gold’s visit the night before, and Victors paying prices for their winnings, and other people paying prices for what she had done.
This is my fault…
“Figured it out, did you?” Whale asked bitterly, raising his eyes to hers. “Probably should’ve taken that shot a little earlier, we don’t want you all distraught before you go on camera.” He stuck out his arm to Tinkerbell for a little sardonic roll of his eyes.
Emma rushed to the kitchen to get her mentor a glass of water, not knowing what else to do. Her hand shook as she filled it up, and the trembling intensified as she held it out to her mentor. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Whale, I’m so sorry.”
Whale’s eyes widened as he took the glass from her and sipped at it. “Don’t be sorry, cherub,” he said with a quiet sigh. Angrily, he added, “I don’t need you to be sorry, okay?”
“I just—”
“Emma? What’s going on?”
Killian walked into the room, his eyes flashing with worry as he took Emma in. His hair was gently ruffled up, yet somehow styled in such a way that it held its shape. Emma could tell that there was a faint little bit of makeup on his face, just to make sure that his eyes really popped out on camera.
“For god’s sake, can you both cheer up? You look like someone died,” Whale hissed at them both.
“Two minutes until live!” one of the camera men called.
Killian clenched his jaw, scowling at Whale, but then extended his hand to Emma.
Lips pursed, she took his hand and allowed him to lead her to the couch. When he sat, she was more than happy to curl into his side, resting her head on his shoulder again. He pressed the faintest of kisses to her forehead, before the screen directly across the couch crackled to life.
“I feel like we might be interrupting something here, folks!” Spindle Shutterneedle’s voice crackled through the system. She was sitting in her own studio back in the Capitol, where the end of their Victors tour would be. “Well, let me be the first to congratulate you two on the Victor’s Tour! You must be very excited!”
“Yes, very excited,” Killian said, drawing his arm around Emma and keeping her close to his side. “Emma and I have never seen other districts before other than the Capitol. Should be quite exciting!”
The energy didn’t quite reach his eyes and she sat up straight and pressed herself in closer to him, as if she could soothe him and keep him grounded with her.
“Yeah, it’ll be nice to get outside our home,” Emma agreed with the faintest of little laughs. “We came from 7 to the Capitol and then back to 7, with no vacation time at all. Can you believe that?” She laughed, nudging her head gently against Killian’s. Outside of the frame, she his hand in both of hers and squeezed as tight as she could.
“Our home?” Spindle’s eyebrows nearly shot up to her forehead. “Emma? Killian? Is there something you’d like to share with us? I mean I had a feeling when we started at your house, Emma, and Killian was already there…” The pitch of her voice swung upward toward the end of the question seemed almost inhuman and it made every last hair on the back of Emma’s neck stand up on edge.
Killian stiffened imperceptibly beside her, but his hand immediately came to her back protectively. But he laughed weakly and added, “Well, not exactly. We just mean that we spend so much time together that it wouldn’t make much difference if I moved in or not, would it, love?” he lied smoothly, sealing it with another gentle kiss to Emma’s forehead.
“Only if you promise to put away the dishes when they’re dry,” Emma hummed, resting her hand on his chest.
As if a neat freak like Killian would ever leave dishes out.
“But not, we have no plans to move in with each other…yet.” Killian lifted an eyebrow at the camera to accentuate his point.
It was just so easy to be with him…pretending and playing house with him. Pretending they’d made plans, pretending like they were completely devoted to each other.
And it broke her heart. Killian needed to be with someone who could give him that, and not her. He would be committed to her until one of them died, she knew that, but he didn’t deserve that. He’d only get hurt if he stayed devoted to her like this.
Her gaze flickered to Whale just behind the camera for the briefest of moments.
I don’t deserve to be loved by someone like Killian.
Killian seemed to sense her shift in thoughts and drew her a little bit closer to him, as if trying to ground her in reality.
She rested her head on Killian’s shoulder and slipped her hand into his. “Truth be told,” Emma said slowly, like she was admitting some great big secret, as if she was letting the world in to a part of their relationship. “We’re just…taking our time, you know? We’re both so happy to be alive, and we’re happy that each other’s alive that we’re just living in…now. And not the future just yet.”
Killian briefly rest his cheek on top of her head, squeezing her hand gently. “Aye,” he agreed softly. “As long as I have Emma by my side, I don’t care what the future holds.”
Emma truly had to blink back the tears that formed in her eyes.
Killian had never lied about his feelings before; he certainly wasn’t going to start now.
For a moment, they were back home, standing in the forest with the trees as the only witness to this tender moment.
“I love you,” he told her quietly.
Something lodged in her throat and she couldn’t spit the words out. Something about them felt too final. So, she pressed her forehead tighter to his and prayed that he understood what she meant when she whispered, “I know.”
She hadn’t even had the decency to say the words back, and still, he was this loving and devoted toward her.
“Well, you might want to start looking toward your future with, given that the next time I’ll see you will be in the Capitol for your Victor’s Ball!” Spindle squealed, putting her hands on her face. “Are you excited? Who are you most looking forward to meeting?”
Emma and Killian’s gaze flickered to one another, wondering if their meetings with their new Victor friends was something that needed to be in the know or not. The looked over at their mentor, who gave them a very small shake of his head.
“David Nolan,” Emma said immediately, turning to face the camera again. “I’d really like to meet David Nolan. During the training sessions, we ended up using the same sword for training, and I…just think it would be really neat to meet him.”
Just beyond the camera, she thought she saw Whale wiping his eyes, and did her very best not to furrow her eyebrows.
“And you, Killian?” Spindle asked conversationally.
“Oh, I think…erm…” Killian thought about it, letting go of Emma to scratch behind his ear. “I think I’d like to meet Ruby Lucas.”
“Why would you need to meet Ruby? You’ve got the prettiest Victor sitting right next to you,” Spindle said good-naturedly.
“She won the year my brother was in the Games,” Killian said honestly, and Emma immediately took his hand into hers. “And I think it would be nice just to meet her as equals. Not a starstruck youth who had the Hunger Games winner come into his district, but as young people who both have survived the Hunger Games.”
Though somehow, she couldn’t imagine—at least from what Killian told her about how he felt the after his brother’s death—that he’d been any kind of starstruck youth.
“Well, that’s all the time I have for you both today. But I’m looking forward to seeing you in two weeks for the Victor’s Ball!” Spindle cooed at them. “Stay cozy, lovebirds!”
“Bye!”
They both waved at Spindle until the screen went dark.
“…and we’re clear!”
Emma and Killian both immediately slumped into one another, feeling that the short interview drained the life out of them.
“You did great,” Emma whispered to Killian, letting her eyes flutter shut.
“You too, love,” he replied softly. They were quiet for a few minutes, letting the camera crew start to pack up around them, while their stylist conferred with Tinkerbell about tomorrow’s game plan for the three of them. “Is it okay if I go home tonight?”
“What?” Emma asked quietly.
‘Would you be okay if I went home?” Killian murmured. “Just for tonight…” He sighed deeply. “Seems I’ve stumbled onto my first landmine, Swan. And this room has got me on edge. I just need a little bit of space before we head back into it.”
“Of course, it’s okay,” Emma said softly, letting his head rest on her shoulder for a minute. “Do what you need to do to take care of yourself. You know I’ll never hold that against you.” Her fingers ran through his hair as they sat there together. “The next part’s gonna be really tough.”
“So, one more thing before we send you both off!” Tink said excitedly, clapping her hands. “Tomorrow we’ll start in District 7 with your Victor’s sendoff, and then we’ll be stopping in one District every day. So then the day after tomorrow you’ll speak in 12, and then 11, and then…”
Emma didn’t even hear Tink once she realized that she’d have to face Imani’s family in three days.
Boy, when Killian said we were heading into it, he wasn’t kidding, she thought sadly.
She kept scrambling around for what she was going to say to Imani’s family and to Morgarzea’s family, how she could apologize to them for not being enough to save their children.
What can I say that will ever be enough? she thought sadly.
“Emma?” Killian asked softly, squeezing her hand to get her attention. “I’m going to go now, okay?”
“Okay,” she murmured softly. “See you tomorrow.” She squeezed his hand back.
“See you tomorrow,” he murmured softly, letting go to walk away.
Her heart clenched as she watched him go. It was funny how she hadn’t spoken to him for months and then suddenly, after one day, she hated the idea that he was leaving again. It felt like part of her was walking away, even though he was only going across the street and they would see each other tomorrow.
“What?” Merlin asked with a laugh. “Miss him already?”
Killian hadn’t even made it to his front door.
“Well, yeah,” Emma admitted, wrapping an arm around herself. “I…I don’t know what it is. We haven’t spoken for months, and now all of a sudden he’s back and I didn’t want him to go again.” Looking up, she added, “It’s not that I can’t survive without him. I mean, it’s just one night and I went months without speaking to him. I just…I don’t know. All of a sudden, I don’t want to.” She shrugged with a little laugh of her own. “I guess that’s silly, isn’t it? But I honestly have no idea why I feel this way all of a sudden.”
“Well, I can’t help you there, Swansong,” Merlin told her.
But as he turned away to gather his things, Emma swore she heard her stylist mutter, “Oh my god.”
Chapter 5
Notes:
Welcome to the Victor's Tour! We'll see some familiar faces, and we'll learn just a little bit more about the beginnings of our two Victors. Oh, and there might be something happening in some of our other districts...
Trigger Warnings: Parental death, parental abandonment, sibling death
Chapter Text
“Why is it always raining when we’re on this godforsaken train?” Emma asked, rolling her eyes as they boarded the train to District 12. “It can never be sunny when we’re on the train. Nope. It always has to rain.”
Killian laughed, “I don’t know, Swan. Perhaps your moods influence the weather. You hate the train so much, so it rains.” He offered her his hand to help her onto the train.
She didn’t need it, but it was still gentlemanly of him to do it nonetheless. She took it and stepped onto the train, taking just a moment to look back at District 7 one more time.
It felt like she’d both just come home and an eternity had passed since the end of the Games. Though, if she remembered correctly, the announcement for the Quarter Quell wasn’t going to be long after the Victor’s Ball. Maybe a week at most.
If she was honest, she wasn’t sure how she was going to be able to stomach looking at those children, their faces lined up in the crowd.
What if I have to mentor Henry in the Games? she thought worriedly, still thinking about Gold’s threat. She had to be on her best behavior, smile for the cameras, act stupidly and desperately in love with Killian or Henry would pay the ultimate price.
“Emma?” Killian murmured gently, and she nearly jumped a foot in the air. “Are you with me right now?”
She blinked for a moment before nodding, “Yeah, don’t worry. I’m right here, Killian,” she said quietly. She shrugged and started to head down the familiar hallway as the train began to rumble to life. Stopping for a second, she turned to ask over her shoulder, “I’m gonna go to our spot. Wanna come?”
Killian nodded and bowed for her to lead the way.
As they passed one of the control rooms, Emma saw the train operators watching screens. She was confused for a moment, but then realized that on one of the screens on the middle row, she could see Milah. Quickly, she held a hand up to Killian and jerked her head toward the room.
Several screens held news of people yelling or setting things on fire.
One camera flashed to a sign of a Swansong spray painted on the wall behind the rioters and Emma let out a sharp gasp. The control room operator whipped around upon hearing her gasp, and closed the door right in their faces.
“What the bloody hell do you suppose that was all about?” Killian asked, dumbfounded as he stared at the now closed door. “Did you know anything about this, love?”
“I had no idea,” Emma lied, her heart pounding against her chest. Based on the way Gold had spoken, she thought it had just been District 8. But it seemed like more than that. There were at least two other Districts that appeared to be rebelling against the Capitol too.
“C’mon,” she whispered to Killian. “Let’s go.”
Killian was quiet until they got up to their spot.
Emma tucked herself against the corner of the sofa as tightly as she could, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment. Her heart began to pound against her chest and her breathing shallowed as she struggled to take in air.
No wonder Gold was so alarmed. No wonder Gold wants this squashed. People are doing this because of me, and if I can show them I don’t agree, then maybe it’ll stop, maybe we’ll be safe--
“Hey, hey, Swan, don’t do that,” Killian coaxed softly. “Open those eyes and look at me.” She squeezed harder and tried to curl more in on herself. “C’mon, love. You can do it. Look at me. Devilishly handsome man. You can’t miss him.”
Emma let out the smallest of laughs, a quick exhale through her nose. Her eyes fluttered open, but she tucked her knees in tightly to her chest. “Devilishly handsome, huh?” she asked softly. The rain intensified against the roof of their car and she swore lowly.
“You want to tell me where you went just now?” Killian asked gently. She shook her head and he nodded. “As you wish.”
She was quiet for a few moments, looking down at her knees before she asked, “Do you regret it?” He tilted his head at her and she clarified, “Listening to me. Back in the arena.”
Killian’s jaw dropped open for a little bit before closing it, as if he couldn’t conceive of a world where following Emma wasn’t his best option. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes before opening again. “Listening to you would be better than the alternative for both of us, don’t you think?” he asked.
I’m not so sure, Emma thought, thinking of Gold’s visit to her home.
She licked her lips to wet them and looked down at her kneecaps. “Did you see it?” she asked softly. “What they—”
“The Swansong,” Killian murmured. “I saw.” He seemed to be mulling her question over, now that he was considering the question that he made. “I…maybe those people are inspired by your actions, but it isn’t necessarily about you?”
“Do you think Gold will see it that way?” Emma asked bitterly, like she didn’t already know the answer was a resounding no. “Do you see it that way?” she asked.
Killian paused for a moment, as if to give the question the reflection it deserved. “You inspire me, love. But I’d know you.” She looked over in surprise and he scratched behind his ear. “Well, at least I’d like to think I do.
She gave him the tiniest of smiles before she ran her hand through her hair. “I should’ve forced them to let me take Henry with us,” she muttered, looking down at the ground.
“He’s with Milah and Neal, he’ll be all right,” Killian soothed. “After all, I know Neal was his primary male role model after your father died.”
Emma looked out the window sadly, thinking about her mother and father, and what they’d left her with. “I wish they hadn’t died in the fire,” she said in a strangled voice. “I wish they were here. They would’ve known what to do…”
“I wouldn’t say that parents always know what to do,” Killian told her, a note of bitterness entering his own voice. “My father was enough of a monster to let me learn that lesson by age 8.”
She unfurled slightly and turned her body toward him, waiting for him to elaborate if he wanted to. She was burning up inside to ask the question, but couldn’t bring herself to be that invasive, especially when it seemed to upset Killian so much.
He sighed, all but deflating into the cushions as he looked out the window. “My mum was…she got sick. She left us, and my father decided that he’d done all he needed to do and a decade of raising children was enough for him, and so he left Liam and I alone.”
Killian’s eyes darkened. “I’m not sure how he could’ve chosen himself over two boys that needed him,” he spat venomously. “But I’ll never forgive him for it.”
“I get it,” Emma sighed sadly. “Please don’t tell Henry what I’m about to tell you, okay?” She picked at her jacket even though there was nothing on it.
She hadn’t given her parents much thought in her desperation to keep herself and Henry alive. But living in that big house had given her so much time to think, and in missing her parents—and everyone else who seemingly cast her aside—she’d come to a realization that it couldn’t possibly hurt to talk about with someone who understood.
“Not a word,” he whispered. He made an ‘x’ over his heart before raising his hand.
“I think I might be mad at my parents too.”
If Killian was mad at his father, then maybe it was okay for her to be mad at them too.
“Are you sure it’s okay for me to be here, Dad?” Emma asked doubtfully, raising her eyebrow at her father.
Nemo let out a booming chuckle. “Well, I won’t tell your mother if you won’t, Emma.” He raised his sword playfully. “You said you wanted to learn, right? Well, the night shift at the lumber mill will cover the sound, and your mother won’t even know we’re gone.”
“Well if Mom does figure out we’re gone, I’m blaming you,” Emma said playfully, raising her own sword at her father. “I was perfectly fine just sleeping the night away.”
“But sleeping isn’t nearly as fun as this,” Nemo teased, giving a playful lunge. Their swords met, the clang barely noticeable over the hum of the lumber mill. “See, I told you? No one will ever—”
A loud boom reverberated through the forest and knocked Emma flat on her back.
“Are you okay, Emma?” her father asked worriedly, running over to help her up.
“What was that?” Emma asked, rubbing the back of her head, and looking around. “It sounded like an explosion…”
Shouts began to erupt from the lumber mill, and Emma could see the dark trail of smoke emerging from the far window. “Look!” she cried.
“Let’s go, Emma!” Nemo ordered, putting his sword away and running toward the mill. Emma was hot on his heels, but she wasn’t nearly as fast as her father. “Get as many men out as you can before the fire spreads!”
Emma nodded as her father disappeared into the thick haze. As best she could, she started helping the lumber mill workers out of the bill, trying not to breathe in too much smoke.
“What happened?” she gasped.
“Machine combusted, must’ve been overheated,” a man told her.
She nodded and went back for more men.
A second explosion sounded, and it brought down some of the ceiling with it, cutting several factory workers off from the exit and cutting Emma off from her father.
“Dad!” she cried out desperately, trying to peer over the flames or through them. “Dad, where are you?” No one answered right away, and she screamed, “Dad! Dad, answer me, please!”
“Emma, you have to go,” Nemo rasped from the other side. She couldn’t see him, but she could hear him and figured he had to be close.
“Stay put!” she begged. “I’ll come get you!”
“No, no,” Nemo said weakly. “Emma, go get help…you’re the only one strong enough to make it back, okay?”
“But what about you?” Emma whimpered.
“I’ll be fine. Now go!”
Smoke was heavy in the air and the noise of fire crackled through the night. She stumbled out of the forest confusedly, not sure where to turn or who to look for.
“Emma!” her mother called and Emma pressed on forward, recognizing her mother’s voice anywhere.
“Mom!” Emma coughed. A pair of arms wrapped around her tightly, and Emma nestled into them. “I was with Dad and the fire started and I tried to get him and the other workers out and I—”
“I’m going in—” Emma’s mother whispered, stroking her daughter’s hair back. “It’s gonna be okay, sweetheart. I promise. I’ll be back with your Dad soon. Stay put. Watch Henry, okay?”
“She went to go get him and tree blocked off their only exit,” Emma replied. “By the time the Mistguard got there to put out the fire, everyone that hadn’t already gotten out was…well.”
The only survivors had been the ones she saved.
“I’m so sorry, Emma,” Killian said quietly.
“Don’t be,” she told him. “It’s…” She shrugged. “The machine had a defective part, produced in another district. Nothing anyone could’ve done about that, except whoever made it and whoever let it pass inspection, but I sure as shit don’t know who they are.” She sighed, not looking at Killian. “I spent the first few days at home—smoke inhalation, y’know—and I just kept thinking that they’d walk through the door any second now.”
“I felt the same way when my father abandoned us,” Killian said softly. “I just thought there was no way he would just leave two young boys with no means to defend themselves or survive.” He smiled sardonically, “But he did. That’s just the kind of man he was.”
“Where is he now?” Emma asked quietly, putting her hand on his shoulder.
“Dead, hopefully,” Killian grumbled. “Not that he was much use when Mum was alive either. It was always Liam who was keeping me out of scrapes and making sure I had enough to eat at dinner.”
“So when you lost Liam—”
“I lost everyone.” His eyes flickered over to her for a moment and she saw his tongue poking out from behind his lips as if he was going to say something more.
She knew what he was going to say. He didn’t need to say it out loud: it was written all over his face.
Emma moved a little bit closer to him, resting her head on his arm as a silent way to comfort him. She wasn’t sure if he always needed the tactile reassurance or this was something new that was just theirs. But still, despite her doubts about her feelings, she wasn’t going to leave Killian in the cold when it was clear he needed comfort and security as much as she did sometimes.
“Is that why you were so upset the other day?” she asked softly. “When I told you that I thought you hated me?”
Killian nodded. “I can’t lose the one thing that makes me happy anymore,” he whispered, his voice no higher than hers. She looked up at him, eyebrows already furrowing in confusion even though she already knew. She knew from the bottom of her heart what exactly he was feeling and what exactly he meant.
It still didn’t stop the breath from leaving her lungs when he confirmed it.
“Don’t you know, Emma? It’s you.”
Guilt and shame immediately rose in her, but she couldn’t break away from the intensity of his gaze. I’m not worthy of it! He doesn’t even know what kind of danger I’m putting him in! He doesn’t know we have a target on his back! He doesn’t know any of it! He wouldn’t feel this way about me if he knew just how much better off he’d be without me! she thought sadly, hoping it didn’t show on her face. He tenderly cupped her cheek in his hand and pressed his forehead against hers.
“That’s a lot of importance to be putting on one person, Killian…” Emma sighed, closing her eyes, her shoulders curving upward as a way to protect herself. “I’m not…”
“It’s okay, Emma,” Killian murmured quietly, his hand gently travelling down her neck and to her shoulder. She shivered at his touch, but found her shoulders relaxing as he kept his hand there. “I’ve felt that way long before the Games.”
There was a low swooping sensation in her stomach and her heart clenched in her chest. “I don’t understand why…” she whispered. And I’m too selfish to let you go.
She’d been so lost without him, but now that he was back, she was still confused and scared and unsure. But something about him made her feel safe and secure. She hadn’t had a flashback since he’d shown up again.
But maybe that was because it was replaced by the all-consuming fear that she was going to mess up the tour and get him and Henry killed.
“Maybe some day you will,” Killian murmured softly, and Emma wasn’t sure if it made her feel better or worse that he seemed to expect this.
“Will you…” she started softly, biting her lip. “Will you tell me about your mom? I bet you’re a lot like her. It’d…I’d love to know more about your beginnings, Killian.” It seemed so stupid to change the subject, and while she was desperate to avoid talking or thinking about her feelings, she did want to know more about Killian’s life before District 7.
A genuine and honest smile blossomed across Killian’s face. “Will you tell me about your parents after?” he asked.
Another real smile tugged at the corner of her lips and Emma finally dropped her knees away from her chest. “Yeah.”
--
It was well into dinner time by the time anyone bothered to check up on them again, and Emma would not share the little bits and pieces of information she’d learned with anyone. Killian trusted her not to do that much, and she wouldn’t break his trust.
“We’re just about to come up on 12,” Tink announced, handing them each a stack of index cards. “Here are your speeches.”
“Speeches?” Emma asked, trading a look with Killian. “We’re supposed to give speeches?”
“Oh, it’s the same speech for every district, although a charming little anecdote about their tributes, if you have any. We recognize that there are some tributes you’ll have a little bit more to say about,” Tink replied cheerfully. “But that won’t be until after our meeting with the mayor.”
“The what with whom now?” Emma asked, raising her eyebrows at their Capitol Ambassador.
“Oh, it’s such a charming little thing, I haven’t done it in years!” Tink squealed delightedly. “We have a meal with the mayor first, and then you give your speech to the masses at primetime! Isn’t it wonderful?” She clasped her hands together.
“What’s primetime?” Killian asked.
“Oh, my dears, we have so much to teach you, but unfortunately not much time to do it,” Tink sighed. “Off you go to get your hair and makeup touched up on you!” She shooed them off to the on-train stylists, who weren’t their usual stylists as these were meant to be “natural looks”.
As they pulled up to District 12, Emma tried to peer out the window but couldn’t see much of anything, except a small platoon of Mistguard standing by the train station. She bit her lip, and tried to get Killian to come over to see, but he was talking in low tones to Whale.
“Are you ready, dear?” Tink asked, squeezing Emma’s shoulders. “Let’s get you to the front!”
She was ushered to the front of the train and looked back for Killian nervously. He was soon pushed up alongside her, and he offered his arm out to her. She took it gratefully and took a deep breath as the door began to open.
“Oh, hello, my old—” Tink started and then stopped when she only saw the Mistguard Captain in front of her. “My word, where is Mayor Lir?” she asked, her voice quavering a little bit. “Surely, he would’ve come to meet us, wouldn’t he?”
“Mayor Lir is…indisposed,” the man sneered, stepping forward. “I am Captain Fagin, the man in charge while Mayor Lir can’t be found.” Something in his tone told Emma that Mayor Lir had been indisposed for quite some time.
She thought back to last year’s Games, to see if she could think of any sighting of the Mayor in the Broadcast. She had just remembered the close up of the Tributes themselves, rather than the wide shot of both Tributes on stage.
“I’ll talk to Grumpy about it,” Whale offered, and there was no hint of derision or sarcasm to his words, tentatively patting Tinkerbell’s shoulder. “C’mon, Tink. We’ve got a show to put on, don’t we?”
“You’re right, you’re right,” Tinkerbell said quietly. “I just…we were friends for so long, Victor. And all of a sudden he stopped answering my letters and I just want to know why.” Her voice broke quietly as they were marched away. “Do you think it was something I did?”
“No,” Whale said quietly, meeting Emma’s gaze when she turned her head to look at them. “I think Lir would’ve answered if he could. Don’t worry about it, Tink, okay?”
“I thought we were friends,” Tink said sadly.
“You are,” Whale told her with the saddest smile Emma thought she’d ever seen her mentor wear before. “I think, no matter what, he’ll always think of you as a friend.”
Emma didn’t have much time to dwell on that fact before they were ushered in front of a short, red-faced man.
“Grumpy,” Whale said with a nod of his head. “Good to see you.”
“Yeah, super great day,” Grumpy growled lowly as he stepped beside them, and the Mistguard presence seemed to grow around them. “Who doesn’t want to be reminded that their youngest brother was murdered while you were supposed to mentor and protect them?” He narrowed his gaze on Emma and Killian. “And somehow, there ends up being two winners that year, which could’ve raised your brother’s chances a little bit more. But nope, he had to die.” His growled deepened, "The only reason I haven't run you both through with my pickaxe yet is cuz you didn't actually do it."
Grumpy stepped forward, almost threateningly, toward Emma and Killian when Whale moved in between them at such a speed Emma hadn’t even been sure her mentor was capable of before now.
“Back off,” Whale snarled protectively. “They didn’t do this, remember? They’re Victors now, and we treat them like Victors.” He towered over Grumpy. “And you are not the only person who has lost someone to the Games, right?”
Grumpy sighed and his shoulders slumped. “Right,” he muttered as they came close to the stage in the town square. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
Before Emma and Killian were rushed up to the stage, Emma placed her hand on Grumpy’s shoulder. “For what it’s worth,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”
“Thanks, sister.” Grumpy put his hand over Emma’s and Emma and Killian were brought to the front of the stage.
Directly opposite them on raised platforms were the rest of Stealthy’s—and subsequently Grumpy’s—family and Tacey’s family. The six brothers somehow looked just as lost and small as the two grieving parents, somehow made worse by the fact that the members of District 12 were filing in.
All parties were fully on display, and all parties had to keep a steady and expressionless face.
It was Captain Fagin who gave the opening remarks—a task usually saved for the mayor—and then Nova, their Capitol Ambassador gave some remarks as well. It didn’t escape Emma’s notice that the happiest she’d seen Grumpy look all day was when Nova spoke, and she knew that she and Killian were about to bring down the mood again.
Though to be fair, the citizens of District 12 did not seem particularly enthused to see them, so it didn't seem like there were many moods to be brought down anyway.
When Nova nodded to them, it was their turn to speak.
“Thank you for being with us here today,” Emma started, amazed that her voice sounded so steady despite the desperate pounding in her chest. “We recognize that while Killian and I are celebrating not only our love but our triumph, we recognize how thoughtless it would be to not acknowledge the brave young people that laid down their lives and have truly given the ultimate sacrifice.”
Emma tried not to visibly wince, hating how the words sounded coming out of her mouth. It felt so insincere, given that she hadn’t known the girl. But, almost if by magic, Nova slipped another card into Emma’s index card pile. This card had an anecdote about Tacey, and it gave Emma to look her parents in the eye, even if they were too far away to know for sure.
“Tacey was known as the “Silent Princess” by her mentor. She wouldn’t say much, really assessing her situation before cutting in with a comment or quick remark. Her ability to analyze situations made her a worthy competitor, and Killian and I mourn her passing with you…”
One eulogy down, and tomorrow it's...
Killian began speaking about Stealthy, but she could hardly hear him as the blood began roaring in her ears.
It felt like someone had thrown a bucket of ice-cold water, as she realized with her first Tribute eulogy done, the next one would be the hardest one of all.
The next eulogy she would have to give would be Imani’s.
Chapter 6
Notes:
Hi all! I feel like it's been a while since I've updated and there is a reason.
Almost a month ago, I had a former colleague pass away. And since this chapter deals so heavily with loss, it was incredibly hard for me to muster up the energy to finish writing this chapter because this chapter is a LOT. It comes in at 5600 words or so, which makes it the longest chapter in either works to date. And there's A LOT to process in this chapter, let me tell you.
Trigger warnings: Panic attacks, flashbacks, murder, lynching, racially motivated violence
A note on some of these listed above: while District 11 in the source material is meant to be representative of the American South prior to the American Civil War. I have mostly kept this true here as well, though I have additionally blended some elements of a Reconstruction Era South as well. I have done my very best to try to not make this trauma porn and really tried to do extensive research to make sure this was handled with care and sensitivity. However, I also recognize the immense bearing my privilege may have had in my perception on the writing this chapter, and as such there may have been moments where I have missed something or did not handle the writing of this chapter as well as I could have.
Please do not hesitate to reach out if I have misstepped as I am open and willing to all criticism, especially because I want to get this right.
Thank you so very much for your time.
Chapter Text
“Well I never!” Tink huffed when they were safely aboard the train. “In all my years—”
“Your eight hundred years,” Whale muttered.
“—I’ve never seen such rudeness! Oh, when Elsa won the year before last, Genie didn’t stop raving about the Victor’s tour. How they bent over backward to accommodate him! Now of course it had been his third one, what with Regina and Maleficent,” Tink continued, clearly insulted and mortified by their treatment at their first stop. “You’d think that Captain Fagin had never been taught any manners. And Mayor Lir…” Her voice quavered again.
Killian came over and gently took Tink’s hand in his own. “Don’t worry, Tink,” he said cheerfully. “I’m sure 11 will be much more hospitable if the people who came from it were anything to go by.”
There was a tightness to his smile though and Emma was unsurprised that the intense pang of grief that seemed to rattle her to her bones. Now there really was nothing standing in between Emma and her friend’s district.
But it wasn’t just for Imani. Seeing the two Tribute images, especially Grumpy and his brothers, had suddenly made her think of Morgarzea and how badly he’d wanted things to change in the wake of his death.
Things in 12 sure didn’t seem any different. Or at least, if they were different it didn’t seem to be a good different.
Whale flicked on the television so they could watch the Tribute videos. Though he had initially planned to start with District 1, Emma could tell that he wanted to prove a point. In both District 11 and 12, the camera was uncomfortably zoomed in on their hollowed cheeks and slender figures.
No, Emma decided, thinking back on the Tribute videos Whale had shown them before their Games. Things at least hadn’t changed for what was going on in District 12 in the past year.
Imani craned her neck to see if there were any cameras nearby. When she didn’t see any, she continued, “There are a lot of things that cameras don’t pick up on. But they’re there.”
Did that mean that District 11 hadn’t changed either? Then again, what was there to change in 11? What had been so awful that Imani had alluded in whispers, desperate to hide from the prying cameras? What prompted Morgarzea to give up his life in the name of change?
And were she and Killian about to witness how bad things really were in 11?
But I don’t really need to see, do I?
While she hadn’t really had the time in the last few days to give it much thought or even really focus on it, there had been times when Imani’s song had been stuck in her head. And once again, it was back in her head, the soft melody ringing in her ears and seemingly drowning everything else out.
Are you? Are you coming to the tree? They strung up a man they say who murdered three…
“That’s a grim song,” Killian noted, drawing her out. She hadn’t even realized she was singing it out loud until Killian had said something. Just beyond him, Whale and Tinkerbell were watching her with curious expressions on their faces. “Is that a song your parents taught you?”
“No, they didn’t,” she muttered, turning on her heel and all but bolting for the one safe space she had on the train. She all but sprinted through the corridors and finally threw herself onto their couch, curling up tightly into one of the corners. She squeezed her eyes shut as tightly as she could, hating that she could hear Killian’s footsteps following her.
“Emma, love?” Killian asked softly. She felt his hand rest gently on her cheek but she couldn’t open her eyes. “Please, look at me. If you’re in danger, I want to help.”
“It’s fine. You can’t even help me. No one can help me,” she muttered, trying to draw herself away from his touch. His hand didn’t leave her cheek despite her retreat and the lump gathered in her throat. She wasn’t sure if it was better or worse that Killian was still sitting with her, but she almost didn’t want him to leave.
“What is it?” he asked gently, running his thumb across her cheek. “I know it’s not nothing. Nothing wouldn’t have you pulling away from me like I could burn you.” There was a clear note of hurt underlining his words and forced her to open one eye to look at him. “There’s a love,” he murmured tenderly. He was quiet for a few minutes, gently swiping his thumb back and forth across her cheek.
She found that her breathing soon matched the steady swipe of his thumb and her other eye opened, unfurling her body slightly. Shyly, her hand reached out to his wrist and she gently wrapped her hand around it.
“Do you want me to tell me about the song?” Killian prompted, gently lifting his eyebrows at her.
“Imani taught it to me.”
Those five words were enough for Killian to understand. Gingerly, he sat beside her and pulled her into his arms. His hand slowly moved from her cheek, down her neck and shoulders, before resting on her back. “What triggered it?” he asked gently, knowing that she hadn’t just thought of it out of the blue.
She was immeasurably grateful for how perceptive he could be sometimes.
“Part of it was seeing the Tributes for the first time. 12 was…I’ve never seen so many Mistguards in my entire life. And then…I don’t know.” Emma said slowly. Killian gave her a comforting squeeze and she rest her head on his shoulder. “We’re going to 11 tomorrow. And I just can’t shake…them.”
Killian was quiet for a few moments, gently drumming his fingers against her back, his brows furrowed in thought. Then, very quietly, he asked, “Why did Imani teach that song to you?”
“I…do they do something…when this happens?” Emma asked, gesturing helplessly toward Abigail. “In 11, I mean.”
“We bury them and move on,” Imani said quietly. “There’s too much work to do.” She started to head out toward the lake, leaving Emma behind.
Emma looked between Abigail and Imani one last time. “I’m sorry,” she whispered to the girl on the ground before racing after Imani. When she caught up to her, she tried to not grimace at the pain in her leg. “Are you guys okay?” she asked quietly. Imani didn’t look up at her, she just kept on walking. “Is something happening in 11?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Imani said coldly, storming on ahead.
“It was after we found Abigail,” Emma whispered, unable to repress a full body shudder. “We’d been talking about songs we had in our districts and the fact that Walsh was a flying monkey and she said that…like…the Games control what we know about the other districts…”
Does that mean…?
A realization nearly jolted her out of Killian’s embrace.
“Pull up the tribute video from District 12 from last year!” Emma ordered immediately, heart pounding against her chest. She wasn’t sure if her theory was correct, but she had to look. The video sprung to life before her and Emma tapped it with her finger to start it.
“Emma?” Killian asked worriedly. “What is it?”
Emma held up her finger for silence, slowly combing over each frame of the Reaping as she kept looking. Her frown deepened as she tried to zoom in on the people standing on the platform where Nova, Grumpy and the Mayor would’ve been standing. While the figures’ faces were blurry, it was very clear there were only two.
“Do you have a picture of Mayor Lir?” Emma asked the train. A new pop-up appeared beside. Lir was a man with dark hair, dark eyes, and shy smile but a jovial face. His hair was slicked back for the photo, but after searching for a few more images, Emma could tell that the man’s hair was normally shaggy and short.
“Look at this,” Killian breathed, clicking on an image that was a few rows below the one she had been looking at.
Mayor Lir was standing behind Grumpy and Nova, easily towering over both of them.
Emma’s eyes flickered to the screen with last year’s Reaping. Killian leaned over to look too, obviously caught on to Emma’s line of thinking.
Together, they slowly pulled the timer through the Reaping so that they could look at each, individual frame.
But they didn’t need to.
It was evidently clear within the first five minutes of the Reaping that Mayor Lir was nowhere to be found. The District 12 ceremony had almost immediately begun with President Gold’s video about the Hunger Games and then had gone right into the Reaping.
It was clear that the man had now been dead since before the last Games at least.
In both District 11 and 12, the camera was uncomfortably zoomed in on the Tribute’s hollowed cheeks and slender figures.
And not only was he dead, but it seemed the Capitol knew about it.
“Wait a minute,” Killian muttered to himself for a moment, drawing his hand over his chin in thought. “Pull up the Reapings from Districts 10 and 11 from last year.” He sat up a little bit straighter, clearly focusing on the task ahead.
He started off by looking through District 10’s Reaping. Just like with their District, the ceremony had started with a speech from Mayor Caspian, who introduced himself to the cameras. While Caspian didn’t look much older than his Tributes—and certainly younger than David and Snow standing behind him—it was clear that he was the Mayor of District 10.
Killian swept away the video of the District 10 Reaping.
“What are you thinking?” Emma asked quietly, watching him hesitate before starting District 11’s videos.
“I thought it was strange,” Killian said slowly. “But at first maybe I thought it was some kind of Capitol play to give the lower tier districts a fighting chance.”
“What are you talking about?” Emma asked, looking away from Mayor Lir’s face and over at Killian.
“Didn’t you notice?” Killian asked, fully turning to her. “Most of the footage of the District 11 and 12 Reapings focused on the Tributes and not much else. But 10 had their Mayor speak, and I’m willing to bet 9 did too.”
“Why would they do that to 11 unless…?” Emma started to ask but she was pretty sure she already knew the answer before she finished the question. She took in a deep breath and asked, looking up at the ceiling of their train car, “Who is the Mayor of District 11?”
“I do not understand your request,” the ceiling said in its neutral yet pleasant tone. “Please rephrase your request or try a new query.”
“Who is the Mayor of District 10?” Killian asked, looking over at Emma with an arched eyebrow.
“The Mayor of District 10 is Mayor Caspian. Would you like to hear more?” the ceiling responded pleasantly.
“No thank you,” Emma said quietly. She bit her lip before looking over at Killian. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“I’m afraid so,” Killian murmured, pressing play.
And just like with District 12, District 11 immediately begun with President Gold’s video on the Hunger Games.
Killian swept the video away, grimacing as he did so. “We won’t know until we get there…but I don’t think our hunch is wrong, Emma.” He looked over at her, and she could see his mind whirring, “Just what the hell is happening in Misthaven, Emma?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered quietly. Goosebumps prickled up and down her arms and she rubbed her hands on her arms to make them go away.
Suddenly, Gold’s warning about calming things down seemed to rattle in her brain. She opened her mouth for a moment, desperate to tell Killian about her interaction with Gold…and then she remembered how their fine president had threatened him.
“I do know that Tink is going to kill us if we don’t get enough sleep for tomorrow,” she said weakly. “We should go to bed.”
“Where did you go just now?” Killian asked worriedly, reaching out to her.
“It’s nothing.” She all but leaped up and away from him.
Killian stood more slowly, but no less purposefully. “Emma?” he asked. “Do you know something?” His frown deepened. “Has something happened to you?”
“I’m fine,” she lied. Closing her eyes, she whispered, “I just…was thinking about how Imani was the one who told me to start looking for things. And I have to give Imani’s eulogy tomorrow. I have to face her parents and her siblings and tell them all the things they already know and they already know me as the person who didn’t protect her--”
She squeezed her eyes shut to stop them from opening as Killian wrapped his arms around her.
While it was true that she didn’t want to give Imani’s eulogy tomorrow, it wasn’t what caused her to leap away.
And she hated lying to Killian about Gold’s visit, but…knowing now that two Mayors were dead, and Gold specifically was interested in keeping the peace of the Districts felt like too much of a burden to give Killian as well. The less he knew, the safer he would be, and Emma was more than willing to take that risk for his sake.
“You did all you could for Imani,” Killian whispered into her hair. “And there is nothing…nothing you could’ve done for Mayor Lir or the Mayor of 11, whoever he or she was.” His hand came to her shoulders to try and get them to relax.
“You’re right,” Emma whispered, burying her face against his shoulder. I couldn’t have helped them. But I can help you and Henry and Neal. I can keep you safe. If I can just play the part then it’ll all be all right.
“Course I’m right,” he teased against her temple. “I usually am.” She laughed weakly and pulled away. “Now, to bed with you,” he instructed, offering her his arm. Quietly, they walked through the train corridor until they arrived at her room.
She looked over at him. Her hand curled over the door frame, rooting herself there as she looked at her. Indecision flitted across her face, and for a moment she was so tempted to ask him to stay with her.
But she knew if she did, she would crumble and end up spilling everything out in the open. So, she settled on saying, “Good night, Killian.”
A flicker of hurt once again passed across his face before it was gone again. “Good night, Swan,” he whispered softly.
--
The sun had only been up for a few hours when a jolt of the train unceremoniously threw Emma from her bed.
“Attention passengers, we’ve come across a slight signaling malfunction and must stop here,” the ceiling crackled cheerfully. “Do not be alarmed. The train will proceed as normal in a few minutes time.”
“How far are we to the center of District 11?” Emma asked with a yawn.
“Roughly three hours,” the ceiling chirped back at her. “Tinkerbell was planning on letting you sleep for another forty-seven minutes. Do you wish to set an alarm?”
“No, I’m okay,” Emma mumbled, rubbing her eyes. She stretched leisurely, slowly rolling her neck and listening to it crack. “Is there any food ready?”
“Yes, Miss Swan,” the ceiling reported back to her. “Mr. Jones is already compiling a plate for you. Will you be joining him in the dining car?”
Emma smiled affectionately down at her bedspread, shaking her head. “No,” she murmured. “Tell him I’ll be in our spot. He’ll know what that means.” Rolling her shoulders one more time, she walked down the corridors barefoot down to the back of the train where they always sat.
For a moment, she took a moment to survey the land around her. Where 12 had been mountains and the forest—not unlike their arena—this land was all flat. The yellow wheat crops seemed to almost seamlessly roll into the sunflower fields, to the corn crops, to the large fruit and vegetable fields.
It was truly a veritable bounty.
It was hard to believe they had children working among these fields…that Imani, at eleven, had been working for at least two years and only had a lost hand to show for it.
A wave of guilt passed through Emma as she thought of all the food she’d been able to eat since winning the Games. Since winning, she’d forgotten what it was like to starve, but the moment she looked at Imani’s, she couldn’t stop replaying in her mind just how small Imani was.
A bunch of chrysanthemums caught her eye. With the dagger, she cut a few out of the ground, and did the best she could to clean them off. She placed the flowers in Imani’s hand, and then folded her hands over her stomach. The girl’s stump lay at the base of the flower stems, proudly on display for all to see.
Death made people small. At least that was Emma’s conclusion from the Hunger Games.
Graham, Walsh, Felix, they’d all seemed so much smaller in death…
But that wasn’t it for Imani. The white chrysanthemums and baby’s breath surrounding Imani had only served to accentuate her amber skin.And while the nuances of other deaths Emma had seen seemed to fade away, Imani’s was the only one that had any kind of permanency to it.
But for some reason, now was the first time she had realized just how small Imani really was.
For a moment, she tried to Imani running between the stalks of corn, hiding behind the stems of sunflowers, but whenever she tried the girl would just disappear, leaving only a wisp of her ringlets and a giggle behind.
But somehow…even the imagining didn’t feel quite right. It seemed like such a stark contrast between the thought and what she knew the little girl’s life to be, and yet all she had wanted, for a moment, was to think about her brother’s age being happy.
Even as Emma found herself mulling over her lost friend, her eyes continued to slowly traverse 11’s scenery, hoping the landscape would give her some nugget of information that she hadn’t able to get from Imani before it was too late.
And then Emma’s eyes landed on an exceptionally large, and exceptionally dead, oak tree.
Her hand flew up to her mouth, her heart beginning to pound in her chest.
Though she could only see it from far away, there was absolutely no doubt that a man was strung up by his neck within the tree.
“But we have songs for things like that too.” Imani tilted her head slightly in the direction of where they’d left Abigail.
It was one thing to guess that Imani had seen more instances like this, people who lived in her District.
It was another to witness it entirely.
Are you, are you coming to the tree?
Where they strung up a man
They say who murdered three
Strange things did happen here
No stranger would it be
If we met at midnight in the hanging tree…
“Oh my god.”
She hadn’t even noticed Killian standing beside her. She wasn’t sure when he had come in, but she was thankful that she wasn’t alone to see it.
“Do you think this is the tree from the song?” Killian whispered, not looking at her but still looking out, even when the train started to move.
“No,” Emma answered honestly, her gaze seemingly transfixed on the figure that seemed to get smaller and smaller with every heartbeat. “Somehow, I don’t think there’s one specific tree…”
--
Somehow, three hours had passed like nothing, though if anyone had actually asked Emma what she had seen or what people had said to her since she and Killian saw the body in the tree, she wouldn’t be able to answer honestly.
Every word sounded muffled and time hardly seemed real. She felt like she was just blinking from one moment to the next.
The only thing that really seemed to grab her attention was when Tink all but thrust the cards into Emma’s face. “Your cards, dear,” she said sympathetically. Emma blinked up at her and Tink smiled. “I know that Imani is your friend, so I kept it short and factual.”
“Thanks,” Emma whispered. Even as she glanced over the words on the card, her eyes began to mist over and soon the small paragraph was far too blurry to read.
Killian moved closer to her and she rested her head on his shoulder, letting a few tears trickle down her cheeks. His hooked arm came around her to draw her in close and he held her hand in his own.
“I’m not strong enough to do this,” Emma whispered, sniffling as she tried to keep her tears from falling too quickly.
“You are,” Killian promised her gently, his fingers gently playing with hers. “I know you are. And I’ll be right there with you the whole time.”
“No one else I’d rather want to do this with," Emma whispered, giving his hand a squeeze. She pulled back a little but to look up at him and Killian gently brushed her tears away with his thumb. “I mean it,” she told him sincerely. “I probably would’ve murdered Whale by now if it wasn’t for you.”
She lifted her eyebrows at him to try and get him to understand that all the stuff she’d seen and what they had discovered together…it was a relief not to find any of that stuff out alone.
“I’m right by your side,” Killian promised, once again offering his arm to her. She took it gladly, briefly resting her head against his shoulder. “It’s…we’ll get through it together.” His voice wavered and she squeezed his arm for the briefest of moments.
When the doors opened, a full processional line of Mistguards lay on either side of the car doors, going all the way down to where a group of Mistguard waited for them. Eleven’s former winners—Lancelot and Rapunzel—stood at end of the processional. Both Lancelot and Rapunzel surrounded by their own Mistguard soldiers.
Her mentor drew up beside her for a moment and then went to hug Lancelot, but he was forcefully blocked by the Mistguard. Whale muttered a curse under his breath and Lancelot just sighed sadly, shrugging as if to say ‘this is how it is’.
“I’m Captain Heathcliff.” One of the Mistguard marched straight up to Whale and all but barked at him. “We will be escorting you to the pavilion, you will give your speeches, and then we will escort you back here.”
“What, no meeting with the Mayor?” Whale asked sardonically.
Heathcliff stepped forward, tightening his hand around his gun. Emma stepped forward protectively, but Killian held onto her arm. “I believe I gave you your itinerary,” Heathcliff snarled. “Best stick to it. After all your arrival is…quite late.”
“We apologize for the delay,” Tinkerbelle said kindly, trying to alleviate the tension in the air. “We were delayed. There was a signaling error.”
“Ah yes,” Heathcliff sneered. He turned around and began walking forward. The Mistguard gathered around him, effectively herding the Victor party forward. “One of the old stations is where we bring miscreants and delinquents. A man was accused of stealing a pot and mortar. So we made sure to do something about the thief.”
“He wouldn’t happen to be a tree now, would he?” Emma muttered to herself.
Heathcliff stopped short. He barely turned his head but looked down at Emma with a cold smirk. “We, as the Mistguard of this town, feared for our lives. So, we thought it was best for the safety of all to do what must be done,” he explained. “I’m sure a Victor of the Hunger Games can understand that.”
He kept walking, not looking at Emma. “It’s terrible, the amount of crime in District 11. We’re limiting your time here for your own safety,” he continued icily. “President Gold agreed to send us here after the poor Mayor simply couldn’t handle the situation anymore. Rioters. Looters. Degenerates, all of them.”
“Oh?” Tinkerbelle asked, trying to engage in friendly conversation, but Emma could tell that Tink was just as unsettled as they were. “So, it is more than just one person?”
“Why just yesterday, a woman in the town was caught taking more than her fair share of water. She said she needed it for the pumpkin patch that kept her daughter’s memory alive. We made sure to deal out a just punishment for that as well. It was her first infraction, so we let her off with a warning. Hopefully, the lost hand will remind her not to do it again,” Heathcliff answered conversationally.
Killian stiffened and Emma squeezed his arm, trying to keep her own worry from showing. She tilted her head questioningly and he shook his head, clenching his jaw. She squeezed his arm again and smiled sadly, placing one of her hands on the small of his back. It did not do much good, but they kept walking forward.
As they tried to take in the scenery of 11, they found they could not. Tanks patrolled up and down every street, and the Mistguard stood on every corner.
Heathcliff escorted them on stage, and a Mistguard stood behind them as Emma and Killian stood at their respective microphones. The people coming into the town square seemed to be all but dragged along. It was clear they were only being given enough to keep them alive. Several were missing limbs and others had scars that were just visible to Emma’s eye.
And once again, at the back of the town square were the Tribute’s families. Emma saw a lone woman standing underneath Morgarzea’s picture, and her heart clenched, wishing she could reach out and do something.
He looked exactly like his mother. The warm umber of her skin could not be diminished by pain nor fatigue nor sorrow. And her eyes were just as piercing as his were. For a moment, it looked like Morgarzea’s mother was making direct eye contact with her.
The rise of guilt that threatened o swallow Emma whole was too much and show she looked away.
When she looked over at Imani’s family, it took everything in her not to break down. Imani’s mother and father were there as well—Imani’s mother wearing a freshly wrapped bandage where her hand should’ve been—and three, not four, of Imani’s younger brothers.
Guilt and a desperation to help overwhelmed Emma for a moment before she had to remind herself that there was nothing she could’ve done before now.
“They’re going to have to listen now,” Morgarzea said quietly. “Maybe they’ll finally…stand up and do something. Maybe, they’ll listen at last.”
“Who are you talking about?” Emma asked confusedly. “Who is doing the listening? And who are they listening to?”
Now his last words made sense.
It had to be like this for a while…just like 12, she realized. But somehow, things seemed more stringent in 11. The citizens of 11 were practically dragged in, all bearing marks of the Mistguard’s cruelty.
Her eyes flickered to Killian’s, and a terse look passed between them.
“On your feet,” Heathcliff growled into the microphone.
The camera lights were suspiciously done.
“Any man, woman or child that so much breaths out of turn will have to be dealt with. Am I clear?” he continued, sneering.
Not even a breath seemed to answer him, and he stepped back, satisfied.
Emma closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
But when she opened them again, her eyes immediately filled with tears. She no longer had Imani’s eulogy in her hands, but Morgarzea’s.
He must’ve switched them when he held my hand…
And yet, even the words on the card didn’t seem to be enough.
So, she put them away.
“I’m sure you’ve seen and will continue to see how brave we think the Tributes are from all the other districts,” Emma started. “And while there is truth to that—somewhat—there are no other Tributes from last year’s Games that could ever live up to Imani and Morgarzea, and the type of people that they were.”
Every eye in that town square was fixed upon her.
And yet she was not afraid. She owed Morgarzea this much.
“Morgarzea especially,” she continued. “I was…I can’t call his death fortunate, because the loss of such an incredible young person is never fortunate. But to be the last person he spoke to before he died was truly an honor that I can never repay or quantify.”
She brought her head up to look Morgarzea’s mother in the eye this time, hoping this would give the woman comfort.
“He’d already fallen into the dreamshade bush. I watched it creep up his arm. But still he wasn’t afraid.”
But rather than answering her, Morgarzea rushed out of the trees with an alimighty roar, brandishing his branch of dreamshade like a whip.
“The last choice he ever made was to fight,” she finished, swallowing the lump in her throat. “The last choice he ever made was to do what he could to make sure that his own death was not in vain. And to give others their best chance of survival. There is nothing I could find more admirable than that.”
A ripple seemed to cascade through the crowd, even though their expressions did not change once.
But living in a forest gave Emma enough insight into when a storm was about to break.
The air became charged and the Mistguard began to shift nervously.
But none of the faces in the crowd gave them cause to react, so the Msitguard stood with their hands tightening on their weapons.
Gold’s warning once again sounded in her ears, and she looked over at Killian to try and get him to start, thinking maybe his gentle words would diffuse the situation. But even his spine seemed steel straight, and she supposed a sailor would be well attuned to an incoming storm.
Killian looked at his cards before sighing in frustration, visibly putting them down on the stage. “It is far too easy,” he started. “To read remarks written by those who watched her. But they did not know her, and I will not do Imani the disservice of such a eulogy.” He looked at Emma and then back to the crowd. “And while Emma may have known her better than I did…I…feel as if I can speak to what a remarkable young girl 11 has lost.”
It did not escape Emma’s notice that Killian used ‘girl’ instead of ‘woman’, and she wondered how intentional it was.
“The most incredible thing I find about Imani is that the Games didn’t diminish her kindness,” Killian told the audience. “She could’ve kept herself hidden and made it quite far. But she chose to pull Emma out of the river and tend to her. And for that I’ll never be more grateful.”
“And while I didn’t get to see this personally, I know how incredibly bright she was,” Killian continued, passion rising in his voice. “I saw how she designed the plan to trap the careers, she came up with the Swansong feathers all on her own…”
He took off his hook and raised his blunted arm to the audience. “The only time I ever really got to know her was when we traded secrets, on how to best care for old wounds that hadn’t quite healed.” He laughed weakly before adding, “She wouldn’t stop asking questions, and never faltered in her desire to learn and adapt and grow. She truly was bright and full of life.”
Imani’s brown eyes—so similar to Henry’s hazel ones—seemed to stare back at Emma from the screen above her family. The image the Capitol chose failed to capture her warmth, her playfulness, any of it…
“She didn’t deserve to die,” Emma whispered. Every head in the crowd snapped toward her, and while she couldn’t see her mentor sitting behind her she was pretty sure she could feel Whale’s eyes boring into the back of her skull. “She was so…so young.” She gave the audience a sad smile. “And it wasn’t fair. I’m sorry that I didn’t save her…and I hope you can find it in your hearts to forgive me for not protecting her.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I hope you saw how I left her. All I wanted was to give her a little peace in such an awful place…”
She looked over at Imani’s family, speaking to them directly, “I hope that was enough.”
And then the storm burst.
A lone figure in the crowd stood with their hand outstretched skyward—just like Emma had done when she left Imani—and their palm pacing upward.
But the palm wasn’t empty.
There was a single swansong feather resting in the man’s palm.
One by one, more palms lifted skyward, all revealing swansong feathers in their hands.
As the wind picked up, sending the swansong feathers into the air, Heathcliff barked orders that Emma couldn’t hear over the pounding of her heart into her ears.
Some of the Mistguards withdrew their nightsticks and marched toward the crowd, while others prepared their guns with an audible click.
“Get them out of here!” Heathcliff roared.
Citizens from 11 began to rush at the Mistguard as Emma, Killian, Whale, and Tink were swept back into the abandoned town hall.
As the doors closed behind them, a lone gunshot rang out through air.
Chapter 7
Notes:
Wow, did I really update two MCs in one week and also write a oneshot? Wild.
Subsequently, this chapter is a bit of a break from the action of the tour but no less important.
Trigger warnings: Panic attacks
Chapter Text
“Just what the hell is going on out there? Killian demanded once they were all safely sequestered away.
Emma inhaled sharply, realizing that this was exactly what Gold had warned her about. The unrest in the districts, the use of the Swansong as a symbol…and it had been her job to stop all that, to put it to rest.
She knew the cameras had started once she and Killian started speaking. How long had they been rolling for? What had everyone seen?
What had Gold seen?
“Emma?” Killian asked worriedly, gently cupping her face. “Emma, breathe.”
Everyone was staring at her, concern more than evident in their eyes.
“No, no, we have to go right now, we have to go back to 7!” she babbled.
“It’s going to be okay,” Tink tried to soothe. “We’ll have security in other districts that 12 and 11 don’t have access to—”
“That’s not what I mean!” Emma replied shrilly, wildly shrugging Tink’s hand of her shoulder. The action tore her out of Killian’s grasp and she backed herself up into the corner of the room, begging for them to understand. “We have to go! I need to get back to 7 right now!”
Any jet that the Capitol had could reach 7 in a few hours. Perhaps if they snuck out right now, they could get to Henry before Gold could. Any means of communication could be compromised, there was no way to warn Henry before she got there. She had no way to check if he was safe even in this moment.
“Tink,” Whale murmured lowly. “We’ll be safe here, can you get us some water?” He tilted his head. “I saw a fountain on our way up. I think our Victors could use it.” His eyes followed Tink out of the room and waited until she was out of earshot before his gaze flickered back to Emma. “Cherub? I want you to tell me exactly what the hell you’re going on about,” he said firmly, his voice boding no room for argument.
He took a step closer to her, gaze steely. “I want you to tell me every single detail, and not leave a damn thing out because I’m getting the sense that I’ve missed something big. And I can’t do my job when I don’t have all the information.”
“Oh now you speak to me!” Emma spat at him, her hands curling into fists. “You think somehow months go by and everything is just fine? That Killian and I are just fine? What the hell gives you the right to know anything?”
“They do!” Whale gestured to the chaos in the town square. “Emma, I’m a lot of things, but stupid isn’t one of them. You know something.”
“Whale, leave her alone,” Killian protested. “A man was just shot! How do you know she doesn’t want to get back for our own sake? You know better than anyone the hell we’ve all quietly endured for the past few months.”
“Oh, I’m very familiar with this type of hell,” Whale said, his voice too cold to be conversational. “I also know that being a Victor comes with several layers of hell. I’ve been trying to protect you from most of them.”
Killian opened his mouth to protect Emma again, but Emma beat him to it. She couldn’t stand for Killian to keep defending her when she’d been lying to him, and hiding something herself.
“Gold came to see me the night before the Victor’s Tour,” she said quietly. Killian’s eyes were suddenly wide with understanding, realizing that in his panic Henry had left out Gold’s presence as a key detail. She could almost see him putting the pieces together without saying a word.
Guilt snagged in her throat like thorns, and she clenched her hands into fists again. “He…he told me that…” she sighed, looking away out of shame. Even admitting it to them felt like a loss, a weakness. “He told me that people were using the Swansong as a rebellion symbol. That there was unrest in the districts.”
She fell silent for a moment, taking a deep breath to keep herself rooted in the present with them.
“The consequence for not keeping order is Henry’s life isn’t it?” Whale asked, his voice even but his eyes troubled. Emma nodded.
Killian’s mouth turned into a grimace. “You lied to me!” he hissed, stepping away from Emma.
“Killian—”
“I’d asked you so many times if you knew something, out of all the things we’d seen, and still you kept me in the dark!”
“He threatened your life too!” Emma protested, turning to him fully. “And I…I just…”
“Don’t even try to explain your way out of this!” Killian snarled, stepping in close to her. His eyes were stormy clearly revealing the betrayal and anger he felt.
“Killian, I’m sorry,” Emma said quietly. She could understand why he was so upset. They were supposed to be a team. They had agreed not to keep things from each other anymore. Yet, she’d done what she thought was best to protect him from Gold’s wrath. In hindsight, Killian could’ve done just as well of a job protecting himself if he knew what the dangers were. “I just thought—”
“Don’t. Just don’t.”
He stalked away to the far side of the room, keeping himself out of the window’s sight line.
Whale watched the scene, face impassive. His eyes contemplatively went back and forth between Emma and Killian for a few moments. “There’s more you’re not telling me, Emma.”
Emma’s mouth opened out of frustration and closed again. For a moment, she contemplated lying to her mentor. She wasn’t even sure if her hunch was right. But when she looked back at Killian, his back turned toward her, she knew that she had to start being more open and honest with the people she claimed to trust.
“We know the Capitol killed Mayor Lir.”
“Yeah, I’m surprised Tink didn’t pick up on that. That guy was not being particularly subtle about it,” Whale responded. She gave her mentor a weak smile, knowing he was trying to cheer her up a little bit.
He knelt to look Emma in the eye. “I know that it seems very counterintuitive for me to ask you this, but I need to ask you a favor.” He looked over at Killian in the corner. “Let me be the one to tell Tink about Lir.”
“How do we know you’ll do it?” Emma muttered. “You’re not exactly the most forthcoming man in the world.”
“There’s a difference between hiding something and withholding something until it’s the right time,” Whale said. “And I’ll be the first to admit that I might’ve waited too long to share some things with you, especially knowing what I know now.”
“We know that 11’s mayor is dead too,” Killian muttered, not turning around to look at Emma still. “We guessed that the Capitol had him killed.”
Whale let out a long breath. “Anything else?”
“No,” Emma said honestly. “That’s it.”
“Well…” he started quietly, thinking this over for a minute or two. “You certainly figured out a lot just from one visit, huh, you two?
The warmth in Whale’s voice was enough to get Killian to look over his shoulder. He didn’t make any sort of eye contact with Emma at all, but it hardly mattered as they both looked at Whale to try and figure out what to do next.
“All right, here’s what we’re going to do, cherubs,” he said firmly. “First things first, when we get back on that train, we’re going to call Henry and tell him to lay low for a few days just in case. After that, you two are going to get some sleep. We’ll be in District 10 tomorrow, which shouldn’t give you too much of a hard time.”
Emma let out a sigh of relief, and smiled at Killian who only looked away from her.
“Now, Emma,” Whale said seriously. “Did Gold mention any districts in specific? These are the ones we can watch out for.”
“He didn’t name a District, but he did talk about how a lot of the fabric being sent to the Capitol was destroyed or unusable,” Emma admitted, and Killian threw a withering glare at her, which she admittedly felt bad about.
“So 8…” Whale hummed thoughtfully. “We can ask Tink, but subtly. Any shortages, anything like that, it’ll all be something to note.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Okay. We’ll get back on the train. I have some phone calls to make. Do not look at anyone, do not speak to anyone, got that?”
“Oh, that should be more than fine,” Killian snorted, stalking past her as Tink came back in the room.
“I brought the water,” Tink piped up nervously, looking between the three of them. She bit her lip and asked, “Is everyone okay?” She walked over to Emma and handed the water too her. “Emma, dear?”
“I’m okay,” Emma mumbled sadly, watching Killian’s retreating form.
--
She was curled up on her bed as the train barreled its way toward District 10. The silence that seemed to reign over the train was almost unnatural. Even the beeps from the machine seemed muted.
“Emma?” Whale murmured. “I have your uncle on the phone.”
“I don’t have an uncle,” Emma muttered. “Orphan, remember?”
“Cherub, your Uncle would like to speak to you. You asked me to call him, remember?” Whale asked pointedly.
Emma bolted upright and opened the door. Whale offered the phone to her with a sardonic grin and she grabbed it out of his hand.
“Hey, are you okay?” she asked desperately, pressing the phone to her ear as tightly as she could.
“Emma!” Henry said joyously. “I didn’t know that you could call!”
“No, normally they don’t want me to, but Whale was able to pull some strings,” Emma told him fondly, letting her eyes flutter shut. She could hear her whole body unwind, the tension leaving her as she listened to his cheerful voice. He didn’t sound any worse for wear.
“Is everything okay, Emma?” Henry asked after a few minutes of silence. “Did you have another flashback?”
“No, no,” Emma assured him. “I’m fine. I just missed you so much…” She paused for another moment, before asking, “Tell me about your day?”
As Henry prattled about his day, Emma listened intently for anything that would’ve been out of the ordinary. Anyone following him, anything odd he had noticed. But it all had seemed quite normal.
Until he stopped speaking suddenly.
“Henry?” Emma asked worriedly.
“I saw what happened in 11,” he confessed softly. “Well, I saw before they cut everything off. Are you sure you’re okay?”
Emma let out an affectionate chuckle in spite of herself. “You’re getting too smart for me, kid,” she told him, curling up on her bed. “I’m okay now. I just…wanted to make sure you were.”
Henry let out a contemplative sigh, and she could hear her brother flop back into his bed. “I think I’m catching a fever, Emma.”
“You have?” Emma asked, a little smile crossing her lips. It was clear what Henry was trying to do and while it broke her heart that he had to be this aware, it was good to know that he was prepared for any and all scenarios. That he was aware, and mindful. “You better stay home for a few days just to make sure. Have Neal get your stuff from school and check in on you every day, then. That way you can make sure you’re totally safe and your fever goes away. Does that sound good?”
“Yeah, I think I can do that for you, Emma. And I’ll have Neal get in touch with the train if I need you to send home medicine or anything,” he promised.
“I miss you so much, kid,” Emma whispered.
“I miss you too. But I’ll be right here when the tour is over, okay?” Henry promised.
“Okay,” Emma whispered. “I’m going to let you go now, okay? But I love you so, so much.”
“I love you too,” he told her. “Good night, Emma.”
“Good night.”
Emma handed back the phone to Whale, who had been watching the entire exchange with a fairly passive look on his face. “Thanks for doing that for me,” she whispered. “You have no idea what it means to me.”
Whale smiled bitterly. “I have an idea of what it means,” he told her. “I had a younger brother too.”
Emma stood up and headed to her room. She paused at the edge of the living room, turning to face Whale. “How come you don’t do anything?” she asked quietly. “About…any of this? It’s all so…I don’t know. Unfair.”
“Cuz I’m not the only one that can get hurt,” Whale replied, getting up to go fix himself a whiskey. “Ceiling systems back on.”
“I’m sorry,” Emma said quietly. “I’m so sorry, Whale.”
Whale smiled thinly. “Don’t be sorry. It’s been a long time now.”
“Is that why you…why you weren’t talking to Killian and I?” Emma asked in a small voice, shifting from foot to foot. “After the Games.”
Whale let out a long drawn and saddened sigh. “I didn’t talk to either of you because I’m not strong like either of you.” Shrugging his shoulders, he added, “Besides. There were some things that I had to take care of.”
“What kind of things?” Emma immediately pressed, but then caught the look on her mentor’s face. “I…you’ll tell us soon, won’t you?”
Gently putting his hand on her shoulder, Whale gave it a gentle squeeze. “Try to get some sleep, okay?”
“No promises,” she answered with a weak smile.
He gave her shoulder another squeeze before heading down the corridor.
With a sigh, Emma crawled back into the bed, staring up at her ceiling. Though she was relieved beyond words that Henry was okay, she was now left with another matter entirely: Killian.
Her first instinct after that discovering Whale had a brother too was to tell Killian immediately and try to figure out with him why no one in 7 talked about Whale’s brother before, or why Whale had taken so much time to even bring him up in the first place.
She knew keeping him in the dark had really upset him. She hadn’t meant to hurt him, but the fact of the matter was…well, she had. And now they had until morning to make things right with him. It made no sense to go into 10 without at least acting like they were a unified front.
Part of her selfishly hoped that he would come to her. He almost always had before, and she was praying that this time would be no different. That he would just appear, and they would talk it out as they always had.
But as the hours ticked on, there seemed to be no life stirring in the hallways of the train.
Throwing off the covers, Emma strolled down the hallway to the kitchen.
“Shall I wake one of the staff for you, Miss Swan?” the ceiling chirped pleasantly at her.
“No, that’s okay,” she murmured softly. “Although…could you do me a favor? Could you pull up a recipe for cinnamon buns? With vanilla icing?”
A genuine and honest smile blossomed across Killian’s face. “Will you tell me about your parents after?” he asked.
Another real smile tugged at the corner of her lips and Emma finally dropped her knees away from her chest. “Yeah.”
They both sat, looking at the world of Misthaven pass by them in a blur. A few minutes passed in relative silence before Killian said out loud, “Cinnamon buns.”
“What?” Emma letting a little laugh. Of all the things she’d been expecting, it certainly wasn’t that.
“When I think of my Mum, I think of cinnamon buns. She used to get up early on Sundays to make us fresh cinnamon rolls with vanilla icing.” He closed his eyes. “They were big and fluffy and the vanilla icing was just right…Liam didn’t want anything to learn with baking. But she told me when I was older, she’d teach me the recipe.” The corner of his mouth ticked up. “She’d used to let me swipe a bit of the icing…”
His eyes opened and what little there was of his smile disappeared. “She died when I was five. I always thought…when Liam went at least he wasn’t alone.”
It wouldn’t make up for leaving him in the dark, but it was an attempt.
Her tongue poked out a little bit as she concentrated, trying to form the dough into the roles. She was sure there was flour in her hair and on her cheek, but she wanted to make sure they were as perfect as possible.
And yet, working the dough was hard, harder than she thought it’d be. “Seriously!” she complained when the dough wouldn’t sit in the pan the way she’d wanted it to. “What am I doing wrong?”
“You probably didn’t knead the dough enough,” a voice from the front of the room.
Emma nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of his voice. “Oh,” she said, her shoulders sinking with her exhale. “Does this mean they can’t be saved?” She was more asking herself than him, her mouth twisted up into a grimace.
“They’re a little ugly looking,” Killian told her honestly.
“Hey!” Emma exclaimed indignantly. “I make you apology cinnamon rolls and you insult them?”
“Well they are,” Killian snorted.
He looked around the splotches of flour on the table, on her cheek, in her hair. “Bloody hell, did you defeat a flour monster in here without telling anyone?” There was a little bit to his words and she winced.
“I’ve never made them before…I don’t think I’ve ever even had them before except maybe when I was little…” She sighed. “I just…wanted to make you some cinnamon rolls, okay?”
His face was completely impassive at first, and Emma was terrified he’d leave her again. Then he grabbed another rolling pin. “C’mon, we’ll flatten these out together.”
The two worked in silence for what felt like an unbearably long time. She would look at him questioningly when she thought she was done, and he would either shake his head or nod. Then, she would go back to work depending on what he said.
Even when the rolls went into the oven to rise, he would nod or shake his head at her questioning glances when she made the icing. Not that she minded entirely. He was still angry and hurt, and she wanted to do him the decency of crafting him a genuine apology. One that truly acknowledged his hurt and not tried to make his hurt all about her.
So after about forty-five minutes of thinking it over and working silently beside him, she spoke, “Killian, I am so sorry that I hurt you with my actions.” She took a deep breath and made sure to look at him, so he’d be aware of her sincerity. “I realize that by keeping things, I violated your trust, and I really want to make that up to you in any way I can. I won’t keep things from you anymore, especially if they involve you. It was wrong of me—even in my misguided attempt to keep you safe—to keep these really important things from you.” Sighing, she looked down and added, “And I’m sorry that the cinnamon rolls were ugly.”
He let out an unwilling chuckle and her head came up a little bit, hoping that the damage wasn’t irreparable. “I…thank you, Swan.”
He’s not using my first name…focus! This isn’t about you! Emma chided herself, her heart sinking when he called her ‘Swan’ instead of ‘Emma’.
“I am still hurt,” he admitted. “It’s…insulting, when you keep me in the dark like that.” Killian looked over at her. “It makes me feel left out, and even if it’s for the ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ reasons I just…” His hand curled around the rolling pin. “It makes me angry. I’ve survived just as much as you have. I’m just as strong as you are.” His voice had a hard edge to it, and for some reason it reminded her that he’d killed Smee without a second thought when they were in the arena.
They’d both left that arena with a body count. They’d both been through hell and back just to be standing on a train in the middle of the night making cinnamon rolls.
“I know,” Emma said, wanting to step into his space to comfort him. She hadn’t been given a clear signal that she could touch him though, and so she waited. “I could give you excuses until the cows came home, but if it hurts you then it hurts you.” She smiled sadly. “We both have too many scars for empty words to be an ointment. So…you be as angry as you want to be, and you can be upset with me for as long as you need to be.” She smiled and shrugged, “I can be patient.”
“Swan, I’ve never known you to be patient for anything,” Killian teased, raising his eyebrows at her. “After all, you hadn’t even flattened out your cinnamon rolls properly.”
They sat side by side in front of the oven, not speaking but not needing to speak much like the other morning when they’d sat watching the sun rise. They waited for the oven timer to go off before fully baking the cinnamon rolls, and making sure to drizzle the icing on once the rolls were fully baked.
Taking a bite of his cinnamon roll, Killian closed his eyes and a truly contented look passed over his face. The tension seemed to bleed out of his shoulders, and it was the youngest Emma had ever seen him look, despite their youth.
When his eyes fluttered open again, they were full of warmth and sparkling with a joy she’d rarely—if never—seen from him in all the years she’d known him.
“Thank you, Emma,” he whispered.
Chapter 8
Notes:
After a period of intense reflection, I have ultimately decided to put this fic on an indefinite hiatus for several reasons.
Given our current world climate and the anti-racism discussions that are being had in our culture right now, I'm wondering if it's appropriate for me to continue with my CS Hunger Games AU for a couple reasons.
1) Emma's 'Mockingjay' role means two things for the overall course of the narrative: firstly, I feel like it inadvertently gives Emma the 'white savior' role given that she's white and what kickstarts her involvement in the revolution is the death of a black child. Two, because Katniss is meant to be an indigenous person in the context of the novels, I feel like I'm white washing that role by casting Emma in it.
2) The protests and the revolutions in the fic are starting to match what's happening in our world and I don't know if I have the ability, knowledge or context to write them in a way that doesn't feel trivial.
3)I'm concerned that with the amount of police brutality that is mentioned particularly in the second installment, that I'm alienating or disenfranchising other members of the fandom, especially BIPOC members of the fandom.
4) I know what I have planned, and things I have written but also I'm only one person operating from a place of white privilege and a detached understanding of what these things are actually like for BIPOC who have experienced them. I don't think I'm the person who should be writing this.
I thoroughly enjoy writing this fic and know that there are people who enjoy my work, and I am excited with what I can do with it. However, I’m so worried about the harm I could cause by continuing with it that I’m scared to keep going with it. I’m worried about inadvertently hurting someone or contribute non-critically to harmful trends within fandom.
So I'm taking an indefinite break from writing this particular fic to focus on content and see if there is a way where I can address my concerns about the fic. I may end up coming to the conclusion that I can't in good conscious continue for the reasons I have outlined above. Or maybe my research will lead me to a way where I can mitigate my concerns. I'm not sure if there even is an answer. But I figured I'd let everyone know where my head is and to not expect an update for awhile.
If you've gotten this far: thanks for reading. If you have some feedback, I'd love to hear it! There might be a perspective that I'm missing, or an angle I hadn't considered!
Chapter Text
“Emma…Emma,” a gentle voice sounded at her ear. Her eyes fluttered open blearily, and she realized she was still sitting on the floor with Killian, her head resting on his shoulder and his head resting on top of hers. “C’mon, cherub, time to wake up.”
“Nooooo,” Emma whined, trying to bury her face more deeply into Killian’s shoulder to move away from Whale. Beside her, Killian’s arm tightened around her protectively as Tink tried to wake him up unsuccessfully.
“I’m guessing you didn’t sleep well last night. But we have to get you ready for District 10,” Whale said, and he did sound genuinely sorry about it.
Whereas Tink threatened, “Get up or I’m dumping cold water on your head.” She straightened up and walked away when both Killian and Emma began to stir.
“When did she become such a hardass?” Emma grumbled, trying to rub the sleep out of her eyes. Whale chuckled and slipped a cup of something into her hand and then into Killian’s. “What is this?” she asked, looking up at suspiciously. She gave it an experimental sniff.
“It’s not booze,” Whale replied, affronted by her silent accusation. “It’s hot cocoa with cinnamon.” He paused for a moment before adding with a sad smile, “It’s your mother’s favorite drink.”
Before Emma could even begin to process that information, Whale turned around and walked away. She held the warm drink in her hands for a moment, Killian watching her with an appraising eye.
“You didn’t mention that to me,” he said quietly. Given the fight they’d just had, she’d have been more than understanding if his tone held a little more of an accusatory note to it. But it didn’t and Emma couldn’t help but breathe out a little sigh of relief.
“I didn’t know,” she said honestly.
Killian nodded quietly, before gently tapping his mug against hers. “Bottoms up,” he said, lifting his mug to hers before taking a drink. When he let out a delighted hum, Emma followed suit, taking a quick gulp that warmed her insides.
The sweetness of the chocolate was almost immediately chased by the warm bite of the cinnamon. She sighed happily and let her eyes flutter shut. It was pretty could, and Emma could see why her mother loved this drink so much.
“You ready to go take on 10, Emma?” Killian asked softly after a few moments, letting her enjoy the warmth and the silence for a moment.
She looked up at her partner and grinned. “Let’s do this.”
He stood up and extended his hand to her. She threaded their fingers together and let him pull her up.
--
When the train door opened, it was a genuine shock to all parties involved—given their welcomes in the last two districts—where the only two greet them at the station were the former Tributes of District 10: Snow and David. There was no press, there were no Mistguards, just them and their small greeting party…the way it was supposed to have been from the beginning.
“Cameras?” Whale called from the train. His hand was held up, to keep Emma and Killian back in case there was something new they needed to be aware of.
“Too much of a liability we were told,” David answered with a grin. “So the cameras will be during their speeches only. And no other officials, too much chaos.” Hearing that, Whale sauntered off the train to his friend.
She all but bounded out of the train after her mentor. It’d been months since she’d seen Snow and David in the Capitol, and she found that now they were in front of her, she was excited to see them again. There was something about the couple that put her at ease and made her feel bolstered in a way that usually only Killian did. And Whale sometimes.
But then again, it was easy to see just how supported Whale felt in their presence too.
The two men hugged, clapping each other’s backs. “Well, it’s good to see you in one piece, though you kind of look like shit,” David said when Whale pulled back.
“David, that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” Whale told him, clapping his shoulder.
“Well, it’s the nicest thing you’ve ever made me say,” David teased.
Emma laughed from the bottom of the train. Both Snow and David’s heads toward turned her and broke out in a run toward her. David got to her first and immediately wrapped his arms around her, protectively cupping the back of her head.
At first Emma tensed, thinking about Gold and his warning to hurt the people she cared about. But then she remembered that there were no cameras around, and as long as they were professional about it in front of the cameras, there was no conceivable way for Gold to find out about this.
“Hey, Emma,” David murmured softly, keeping her close. “We missed you.”
“I missed you both too,” she admitted.
And she had missed Snow and David’s company. They’d been her constant companions in the first few days after the Games.
She let herself relax into David’s hold, closing her eyes. She felt Snow’s arms wrap around them both for a minute before David pulled away to let Snow hug Emma.
Emma tried not to shift uncomfortably when Snow cupped her cheek and stared directly into her eyes.
“How come Snow likes to touch so much?” Emma grumbled to David, shifting in the hospital bed. She’d asked Snow to go get her something to eat to get five minutes of peace and quiet while she was recovering.
“That’s just how she is…” David chuckled, putting his hand over hers. “It’s how she expresses concern and care. Do you think you can grin and bear it? She’s trying not to mother hen you to death and this is the best way she knows how…”
It was so nice to be cared for after all those months alone, but the idea of being touched by anyone that she didn’t know very well was still not her ideal. Still, she tried to keep from moving as Snow looked over at her appraisingly.
“You haven’t been eating or sleeping, have you?” Snow murmured worriedly.
“I think…” Emma started, wondering if she should even say it out loud. “I think Snow and David were going to have a baby but they lost it.”
“And why do you think that? Did they say something to you?” Merlin asked, his tone quite neutral all things considered.
“I dunno,” Emma admitted, shrugging her shoulders. “They would look at me when they thought I wasn’t looking…and they’d just look so sad. Like I reminded them of someone.”
Emma shrugged, not meeting Snow’s eyes right away. No one was okay after the Games, and what did it matter how much she was eating or sleeping? She was still alive and kicking.
And supremely messing up relationships along the way, her mind supplied unhelpfully.
“Can I just give you some advice, one Victor to another?” Snow asked, and it was the tone that brought Emma’s gaze back up to her. It was warm, but not pitying or patronizing. It was full of the understanding that came from one of the worst sorts of hell. “Little meals. Even if it’s just an apple. I know that a big meal can seem overwhelming, especially when you don’t feel up to eating.”
Snow’s thumb gently swiped across Emma’s cheek and the action reminded Emma so much of her mother that she nearly burst into tears. “You need to survive, Emma,” Snow said softly—encouragingly—but firmly. “Do you understand? You’re not meant to carry this alone, and you don’t have to carry this alone.”
Emma closed her eyes and nodded.
“Good.” She didn’t see Snow’s grin, but she could hear it in her voice. “Now, let’s get this over with shall we?” Snow gently draped her arm over Emma’s shoulder and walked with her behind Charming and Killian. “Mayor Caspian has prepared quite a lunch for you both, and you can tell me all about Henry…I know you were excited to see him again the last time I saw you.”
At the mention of Henry’s name, Killian’s head nearly whipped around. After what he’d learned, she wasn’t surprised by his reaction, but found her heartbeat picking up at his reaction. “You okay?” he mouthed at her, his eyes darting up briefly to Snow.
She nodded, and leaned a little bit more into Snow as if to prove a point to him.
Satisfied, Killian nodded and turned his head back forward.
David turned his head slightly to look at her, and once again her heart twisted when she caught immeasurable sadness on his face.
--
The roar of the crowd was still behind them when Emma and Killian boarded the train.
Rationally, she knew that every district mourned their fallen tributes, but the ferocity of it had nearly overwhelmed them and caused a riot in 11. Jack was well-known and well-liked it seems, for an error he’d made as a boy for selling the family cow for some beans—thinking that five measly beans would’ve fetched more in the long-term than a cow—that he never seemed to live down, even in death.
Diana, on the other hand, was a woman with an incredible imagination. She had dubbed her mother—the florist for District 10—“The Flower Queen” and crafted an incredible story with her young playmates about a knight who saved The Flower Queen’s daughter from a Mother Dragon. The game then evolved to a tag-like game where the Mother Dragon chased all the children back home. The only ‘safe’ place was in the Flower Queen’s kingdom…or Diana’s family shop.
It seemed that 10 in its way as a lot like her own District, Emma had thought during the ceremony. Closely knit and fiercely protective of their young. Ripples of anger chased themselves through the crowd during Jack and Diana’s eulogies, and Emma nearly stopped speaking in fear of repeating the incident in 11.
If it hadn’t been for the respect that 10 had for Snow and David, Mayor Caspian’s presence, and a friend of David’s—Kristoff—who kept the crowd under control Emma was sure there would’ve been more bodies to add to their Victor’s tour.
However, once they’d finished their speeches, a woman in the crowd had performed the gesture Emma did for Imani, and the crowd immediately flared to life. The shouts for revolution, for the Victors to rise with them still carried from the town square to the train station. The Mistguard seemed to clamor around them, adding to the noise that had both her and Killian completely on edge.
“We’ll see you soon!” Snow called before the train doors shut behind them.
“Goodbye!” Emma called, but there was no way that her friends from 10 had heard her.
Emma rushed to the window, and pressing her face to it, she waved goodbye to David and Snow. The couple desperately followed the train for as long as they could, and it wasn’t long at all before the two of them and District 10 were specks in the distance.
Emma stayed at the window and didn’t turn around, but she felt Killian turn around beside her to face their mentor. “Is every district going to be like this now?”
Her shoulders slumped at the defeat in his voice and she pressed her forehead to the window. “Henry won’t be okay if Gold keeps seeing this over and over,” she muttered, mainly to herself but her mentor’s sympathetic hum indicated that he’d heard her.
“Well, if it makes you feel better, I’ve already spoken to my friends in 7, and Henry’s no worse for wear,” Whale responded.
Emma whipped her head around in confusion. “You have friends?” she asked skeptically. She folded her arms over her chest. “Seriously, since when do you have friends? You don’t talk to anyone besides us and Tink.”
“Says you I don’t,” Whale retorted, and Emma had the distinct feeling that if Tink hadn’t been standing right there he would’ve stuck his tongue out at her.
“Snow and David are his friends,” Killian rightly pointed out.
“They don’t live in 7!” Emma exclaimed, fully invested in the discovery that her mentor actually had someone else in his life that tolerated his existence.
“Oh my god,” Whale groaned, rolling his eyes. “Okay. They’re not actually my friends. They’re acquaintances. Barely. Can you just be happy that your brother is alive and safe so you can stop making fun of my social life?” He turned to Tink as if looking for some back up and when he didn’t get it, he spluttered, “Hey! A little help here?”
“She’s making perfectly valid points, Victor,” Tinkerbell said, a little amused quirk to her lips as she left the room.
“Betrayal!” Whale muttered underneath his breath. His gaze lingered on Tink for a moment before he turned back to Emma and Killian. “Listen. I don’t know if every District is going to be like this, but I do know this: the cameras were smart enough to cut out after your speech. Which means Gold didn’t see the crowd get antsy.”
“Even if he did, the crowd started acting up after we finished talking,” Killian added earnestly. “I’m sure we can’t be blamed for that.”
“Something tells me that if Gold wants to blame us, he will,” Emma replied sourly, mainly to herself. She hadn’t realized she’d said it loud enough for Whale and Killian to hear unless they were looking at her. “Sorry,” she sighed, running a hand through her hair.
“It’s okay, love,” Killian promised, taking her hand in hers and giving it a gentle squeeze. “We don’t have to solve all our problems in one night.” His hand didn’t move any farther than her own, like it was still wondering if it was even allowed.
Or if it wanted to.
“You know, you both didn’t really sleep well last night. Grab something to eat and then head to your rooms. You need to sleep. For real,” Whale said sternly.
“Why the sudden interest in our sleeping habits?” Emma grumbled.
“Because Snow White threatened to shoot me with a bow and arrow if you didn’t eat and sleep more,” he answered in a glib tone. “I guess I’m supposed to take care of you or something.”
“Can she really be your friend if she doesn’t know you’re not capable of that?” Emma mumbled.
“Hey!” Whale exclaimed indignantly. “You’re both still alive! Everybody’s got the limbs they started with! I know you’re new to this and all, but in the scheme of things? I’m mentor of the fricking year.”
Emma sighed, feeling the air taken out of her lungs. She couldn’t explain why she wanted to keep being mean to him. Normally in their dynamic, she was playing. But for some reason she was angry enough to really want to dig in where it hurt and leave Whale feeling as exposed as she felt.
Probably because you’re tired and hungry, she thought. When she realized the thought sounded more like Killian’s voice than her own, she ran a hand over her face. Pretty sure that’s the sign of insanity. “You’re right, Whale,” she mumbled. “Sorry.”
“Good,” Whale huffed, puffing his chest out. “Now go eat. Before I ground you for talking back.” Both Emma and Killian looked up at him dubiously. “Or something.”
Emma and Killian got up and went to get their food. Emma piled as much on her plate as she possibly could, not realizing just how hungry she was until things had settled down for a moment. Killian was about the same, not even really looking at which food he was putting on his plate.
We can just pick off each other’s plates, she thought tiredly, noticing that Whale and Tink had left them alone. She’d stared after them for a moment, wondering when and how they’d gotten so close to one another despite seemingly being at each other’s throats for the last twenty-five years…
“Swan, if it’s all right with you, I’m a little tired…” Killian started, scratching behind his ear, breaking her out of her thoughts.
Exhaustion, Emma supposed, probably had more to do with the searing panic that started to take over her more than anything. She had no interest in being apart from Killian, not after the past few days that they had. She didn’t understand what was driving her so much to be near him, but it didn’t stop her from blurting out so their mentor wouldn’t hear them, “Can I stay with you tonight?”
He raised an eyebrow, dipping his head toward her. “You make it easier,” she explained lamely, shrugging. She closed her eyes as she added quietly, “I’m tired of being by myself. I…it’s too much for me to carry alone.”
Killian’s face softened as he responded, “As you wish.”
When they walked into Killian’s room, he opened the door for her wordlessly. She waited in his space and let him take the lead. He placed his plate on the bedside table before removing his brace. She stood and watched as he put a cream on his old injury and then climbed into bed.
He balanced the plate against his stomach and opened his free arm to her. As gingerly as she could—as tired as he was, he’d kill her if she got crumbs in his bed—she climbed and curled up beside him.
The contented exhale that escaped him when she settled against him didn’t go unnoticed, but she chose not to comment on it.
They were both too exhausted physically and mentally for them to think about anything beyond having dinner and falling asleep. Though she’d been right in thinking they’d errantly pick off the other’s plate, particularly when Killian had taken more slices of sweetbread than she had, or she’d taken the last piece of meat that he’d wanted.
As Killian’s breathing evened out, her mind began to wander, thinking ruefully of the beginning of their games. That first night she was so sure he wanted her dead, when all he’d ever wanted was to keep her safe.
A soft beeping sounded, distracting her from the conversation. Her head picked up to see a little silver container floating her way. It was her first sponsored gift of the game. With her good hand she gently reached out toward it before it could get too far out of hand.
It took a few minutes to fiddle with it, trying to open the thing one handed. “How does Killian do this all the time?” she grunted, trying not to draw too much attention to herself.
“We’re sorry it’s not more. -S&D”
Who the hell are S and D? she wondered. The only people she knew by that name were Snow and David. But it couldn’t have been. While not expressly forbidden, it seemed highly out of place for a mentor of another district to send a tribute a gift in the arena. Most mentors didn’t even send gifts to their own tributes.
It can’t be Snow and David…can it?
Emma bit her lip as she took the small vial out of the container. She took a quick sniff of it and recognized goldenrod from her time in the training center. She dropped a few drops onto her injured hand and saw the skin slowly taper itself shut.
“The goldenrod!” Emma gasped, her eyes flying open.
Killian bolted awake, his eyes searching her as if to check for some unseen injury. “What the bloody hell are you talking about, Swan?” he grumbled, his accent thicker with sleep though his breathing was still settling from after she startled him awake.
She quickly launched into the story of the sponsor container she’d received their first night in the games, and the cryptic message that had come with it.
“And you think Snow and David sent it?” Killian asked, his brow furrowed in thought. His lips were pursed, and he seemed to be mulling the story over. “And you’re sure it’s not someone in 7 or a sponsor you met with those initials. What makes you think it’s Snow and David?”
“I don’t know,” Emma admitted. “I don’t have anything concrete to go off. Just instinct.”
There was maybe less than half a second where she worried that Killian was going to brush her off and tell her that her instincts were wrong. But he never did.
He just sat contemplatively, his mouth or his eyebrow occasionally twitching as he privately ruminated on the possibilities. A few moments of silence passed before he asked, “But why? What could Snow and David possibly have gained by sending you a healing mixture?”
Catching her gaze, he added, “Not that I’m upset that they did. On the contrary, I’m quite pleased that if it was them that it’s the reason, you’re still here with me. But still…what rationale would they have for giving you—a tribute that they’d only met once and not even from their district—a healing potion?”
“I have no idea,” Emma said quietly, laying back down. Killian looked down at her for a moment before lying back down with her, wrapping his arms around her. “But it’s something I think I deserve to find out.”
Chapter 9
Notes:
Aaaaannndddd we're back! After a few months of deliberating, revising my outline, considering your comments and consulting with some trusted friends, I've decided to continue with this fic. Very cautiously.
That being said, if you are venturing into this fic for the first time and you're concerned about any issue that appears in this fic, please don't hesitate to reach out! Even if I don't respond, I take all comments very seriously and give them a great deal of weight!
Right. So where did we leave off then? Killian and Emma are on the Victor's Tour, we've been to Districts 12, 11, and 10, Misthaven is a great deal of unrest and Emma and Killian's relationship is still a little strained from some truth hiding. If you're looking for the specifics, a reread might always be helpful.
All caught up? Great! Then let's get started!
tw: death
Chapter Text
9 passed without much incident. Ripples and murmurs through the crowd while they gave the tributes for the twins who had been killed in the avalanche, but nothing quite major. As Misthaven’s grain exporters, Emma supposed that they didn’t have as much to gain by overthrowing the system. After all, grain made several vital foods and there was plenty to eat in the Capitol.
Things still ran hot and cold with Killian sometimes. He would hold hands with her when they gave speeches or sit near her at dinner, but she could tell that her boyfriend was hurt by her keeping secrets from him. Though all things being equal, Emma was still fairly certain that Killian hated her and was just too polite to say anything about it.
So, she gave him space when she could stand it.
There were times when they couldn’t handle being apart anymore. Holding each other was the easiest remedy for the horror of what they’d seen in the Games, the easiest way to draw them away from their nightmares and back to reality.
If they started in separate rooms, they’d usually end up in the same room, curled up with one another. Her head was usually tucked underneath his chin and his arm would come around her. Sometimes they fell back asleep, sometimes they didn’t.
It was on the morning they arrived in District 8, Emma finally had the courage to ask him, “What do you see?” He made a confused noise in the back of his throat. “When you have your nightmares. I know it terrifies you…whatever it is you see.” He was quiet and she added, “You don’t have to talk about it if you’re not ready. I know that I’m probably not your favorite person in the world right now.”
His hand had been combing through her hair when it stilled suddenly. She frowned, an apology bubbling on her tongue but Killian spoke before she could begin to apologize. “Sometimes it’s Liam and the dreamshade. Sometimes it’s you and the dreamshade. But usually it’s you…” he murmured. “Disappearing in the flash flood.” His voice was strained and his eyes didn’t meet hers.
It made sense. Every time he’d had a nightmare, he’d desperately reached for her as if he thought she’d slip away. She thought about the night he’d slept over and just how frantic he’d looked when he’d come into the living room after his nightmare. She thought he’d just been disoriented from the dream, but if his dream had been about losing her…
“You know that wasn’t your fault,” Emma insisted softly, tilting her head up to look at him. “I had a concussion and there’s no way you could’ve known that.” She cupped his cheek in her hand gently, her thumb dancing across the skin there until his eyes met hers. “I don’t blame you for that, you know.”
“I still could’ve checked,” Killian insisted, clutching her a little bit closer. “If it weren’t for Imani, I would’ve lost you.” Emma tucked herself back in against Killian’s arms, letting her head rest on his chest. His hand resumed its motions through her hair. “What about you?” he murmured. “Imani?”
“Most of the time. Sometimes it’s more abstract than that. A feeling.” Emma sighed, her lip quivering a little bit. “I just feel…it was my idea to separate us. My idea to draw the Careers out. My idea to set the traps. She might still be alive if she hadn’t met me.”
“Love,” Killian murmured softly, brushing her hair away from her face. “I think you know better than I that’s not true. She was good at hiding, yes. And a decent fighter. She was smart and kind and resourceful. Quick thinker and quick on her feet. So many good and valuable things—”
“And I still got her killed!” Emma protested.
“Let me finish,” Killian said patiently, gently tilting her chin up so their gazes could meet. “Cruella? Hans? Felix? They were ruthless and they would’ve stopped at nothing to see her destroyed because it would stand in the way of their winning. At the very least you made sure she didn’t die in vain.”
Emma let out a wet and watery sigh, her hand sliding up his chest. “Do you think it’ll ever stop feeling like this?” she asked.
“It doesn’t look promising if Whale is anything to go by,” Killian murmured sadly. “But Snow and David seem relatively well adjusted. Archie too. But I know he had to work very hard to be that way.” Fondly, he added, “When we go back as mentors, I’ll be sure to properly introduce you to Archie. I think you two would get on quite well.”
“Why? Because we both put up with you?” Emma teased softly, cuddling into him.
“Very funny, love,” Killian chuckled softly. The early tendrils of sunrise began peeking into their room and Killian sighed, “Another sleepless night.”
“Whale is going to kill us if we don’t try for at least a few hours,” Emma muttered. “If Tink doesn’t beat him to it.”
Killian chuckled lowly into her ear, drawing the blankets around them. “Goodnight, love.”
“Goodnight, Killian.”
--
There was a sense of grimness hanging in the air over District 8, Emma observed as Killian helped her off the train. The sky was completely overcast and the clouds seemed to be getting darker by the minute.
Like in 9 and 10 the chosen tributes from District 8, Megara and Lumiere, stood at the bottom of the ramp. They smiled but there seemed to be no warmth to it, looking more trepidatious than anything. Not that Emma could say she blamed them.
Even when Whale approached, there was little joy to the interaction between Victors, unlike in the previous District. Whale seemed to be dreading the visit more than usual although Emma wasn’t sure if it was because of District 8 or the bout of malaise that seemed to overcome her mentor.
She thought his eyes had yellowed yet again over breakfast but looking at them now they seemed quite clear. He was still limping, his ankles swollen.
“You’ll have lunch at the Mayor’s mansion before honoring the tributes in the afternoon,” Tink told them as they were ushering to a golden car. “Won’t that be fun, you two?”
“Is that wise?” Whale asked Lumiere and Megara, who both looked at each other helplessly. “Is it that bad?” he asked gently.
“It’s about as bad as it’s been since that first night. There’s never really been a day where it’s been good,” Megara sighed tiredly. Emma’s eyes flickered up to her mentor and Whale shook his head discretely.
Not right now.
No words were exchanged after that, all parties seemed to simply fall into step.
Suddenly, Emma recalled how one of the things Gold had specifically brought to her attention during his visit as well as Tink’s observation of the fabric shortage coming out of 8. The image of the Swansong, all but burned into the fabric, flashed in her mind, and she wondered how much chaos their arrival was going to bring.
Their being in 8, a volatile district, could seemingly set off an explosion. And everyone knew it.
Whale looked at her and she tried to communicate silently that she was going to be on her best behavior. Things were starting to progress to a point where Henry was now being passed between a few neighbors houses to keep the Mistguard guessing. She knew she’d feel better once they were done with 8.
Both Emma and Killian stepped into the golden car and the doors shut automatically around them. They looked at each other, raising their eyebrows, but it seemed inappropriate to speak when the silence around them both seemed so heavy.
So, Emma watched the scenery go by. As they moved more into the district the air around them seemed to grow thicker. Smokestacks from the factories swirled into the sky and even from inside the car, Emma found it hard to breathe.
There were missing paint chips on several of the houses or cracks in the brick or stone. A piece of graffiti caught her eye: If the odds weren’t in the Golden Princess’s favor, what hope do we have?
As her eyes travelled over the cobblestone streets, she wondered which of the houses Merlin grew up in. She wondered if she would be able to see where her stylist grew up. Not that she supposed anyone would really post a sign that said, “Merlin lived here”.
As the car began its ascent up a hill, Killian stiffened beside her. They were approaching a looming, ostentatious mansion that sat at the top of the hill overlooking its citizens. Even in the dreariness of the day, the gold shimmer of the mansion seemed to sparkle and shine so much so that Emma had to squint.
“Well, I guess that’ll be the Mayor’s estate, then,” Killian said wryly.
The car pulled up in front, and somehow the building seemed so much larger when they stood underneath the illustrious overhang.
“We’ll go in first,” Megara said abruptly, stopping the party before they even got a chance to knock on the front door. “You’ll wait in the foyer for him, and then we’ll all move to the dining hall. Do not speak to Mayor Midas unless spoken to. Do not make eye contact. Do not shake his hand.”
Emma and Killian exchanged a suspicious look before shuffling a little closer together to protect each other. The doors opened and Megara and Lumiere were immediately ushered upstairs. Servants decorated in gold immediately escorted Whale, Emma, Killian and Tink to a grand entrance way before standing in front of a gaudy staircase.
Emma hadn’t even opened her mouth to ask the question before Whale told her flatly, “Honestly? I have no idea what’s going on.”
A simple wooden frame caught Emma’s eye. It was down a meandering hallway to Emma’s left. She took a few steps and waited for the servants or Whale or anyone to stop her, but they didn’t.
But moving away from Killian’s side had naturally gotten his attention. “Where are you going?” he asked.
“Just to check out the artwork in the hall over there,” Emma responded, pointing the hall. “You wanna come?”
“No thanks, love. If it’s anything like the rest of the house, I’m sure it’s not really my style,” Killian teased. “Have fun. I’ll miss you every moment you’re gone.”
“I’d despair if you didn’t,” Emma replied flatly, though smile blossoming at the corner of her lips gave her away. Her hand slipped out of Killian’s—not even realizing she’d taken it in the first place—and headed toward there. The hallway was long and there were many frames on the wall.
The one Emma contained a portrait of a beautiful woman with a kind smile. She held a baby in her arms and she was beaming for the artist.
In the next picture, the child was alone. The baby had grown into a toddler with fine, golden hair but her mouth seemed taut and her expression grim. As Emma moved down the hallway, the child grew before her very eyes and seemingly into someone she was familiar with, almost a friend.
At first, Emma thought the child looked familiar because she’d watched her grow through a series of portraits. But as she came to the seventeenth and final portrait, a cold wave of dread washed over.
She had seen the child before.
The little girl’s gaze was transfixed on something above them, her eyes wide with horror and shock. Emma turned to follow Imani’s gaze and nearly dropped her pack as she did so. Above them was Abigail, one of District 8’s Tributes, hanging dead from the tree. The girl’s eyes were wide open still, her mouth hanging open.
“Oh,” Emma said heartbrokenly, her hand extended toward the picture as if that could somehow make amends.
“She was beautiful, wasn’t she?” a voice rasped behind her.
Emma whipped around, defensive, and ready to break one of the frames and strike if she needed to. But the sad look in the old man’s eyes made Emma stop. His daughter had his eyes once.
“I’m so sorry, Mayor Midas,” she whispered. “I didn’t…I’m sorry.” She shifted nervously in front of him. “I…we can go. You don’t have to host us in your home. Killian will understand and I don’t really give a damn what the press thinks and—"
“I don’t blame you for what happened, child,” Midas said sadly, his eyes flickering up to the portrait. His gaze turned icy cold as he came to stand beside her. “I blame Gold. Her reaping was a punishment and a warning. Her death was a message. He thought he could take the only thing that mattered to me as a way for me to kowtow to his demands.”
“Are you sure you want to be telling me this?” Emma asked hesitantly, though honestly she wouldn’t put it past Gold to do something like that on purpose, regardless of his reason. She followed Midas’s gaze to the portrait of Abigail and waited for a response. He didn’t seem to hear her as he stared at the picture of his daughter, lost in thought.
“Yes, Midas, are you sure that’s a thought you want to articulate out loud?” Whale asked quietly, but warningly. Emma tilted her head at her mentor. He was alone. He added, “Killian told me where you were and when the servants started panicking, I figured you’d find the solution faster than they could.”
Emma smiled a little bit as Whale came over to stand beside Midas, putting his hand on Midas’s shoulder. “We can go if it’s too much,” Whale offered gently to the old man. “I can’t imagine having us in your home is easy.”
“Having the Swansong in my home will never be too much. Our district owes her so much,” the old man croaked out as his eyes took in the painting of his daughter. “They just left her there. They were going to leave her there…and she let Abigail come home. She let Abigail rest.” Midas’s voice cracked and tears filled his eyes.
“I know,” Whale murmured comfortingly, rubbing Midas’s back.
“I hope he pays for this,” Midas growled, his hands curling into fists. “I hope he suffers a thousand deaths and everything burns down around him. I want that man to pay, and if it means burning every scrap of fabric that’s left in this district then that’s what I’ll do! I will not let them make more weapons in 8!” His eyes flashed at Whale before his shoulders slumped. “But I suppose it’s not long before they replace me with someone who will, is it?”
“Weapons?” Emma mouthed at her mentor; her eyebrows furrowed with confusion.
Whale looked trapped for a moment, but was saved by the rush of servants, accompanied by Megara and Lumiere. Both representatives of District 8 looked absolutely terrified as their eyes darted across the scene, trying to gain something from Emma or Whale’s expressions.
She took the cue from her mentor to keep her expression neutral and her head held high. Truthfully, she had nothing to hide, because she didn’t know what was happening. She was sure that Whale wouldn’t tell her now or even soon, though it was beyond clear that the reason 8 was so tumultuous was that there wasn’t a soul in the District who felt any love toward the Capitol and no fear either.
“Emma?” Whale asked pleasantly, though there was a sharpness to his tone. “I think Mayor Midas is very tired and distressed. Do you mind waiting with Killian and Tink in the foyer while we get this all settled?” He smiled at her, but it was far too polite, far too strained and nothing like she was used to.
“Sure,” Emma replied, feeling every eye in the room. “Killian and I need to go practice our speeches for the Tribute memorial anyway.”
--
“Does it still sting, love?” Killian asked softly, putting the butterfly bandage over her cheek.
As she had started her memorial for Abigail, the citizens of District 8 had quite loudly demanded for Emma to speak her mind. They’d screamed about how Emma had seen the brutal way Abigail had been murdered, and how dare she peddle the Capitol crap when they all knew better.
They weren’t wrong, but it still hurt when they threw things at her and Killian. A rock had scuffed her cheek and Killian was nursing a small bruise against his temple.
“My pride took more of a hit,” Emma groused, examining herself in the mirror. “Tink’s gonna pitch a fit if we go to 6 looking like this.”
“Miss Swan, your cheek will heal in 1.68 days, with minimal scarring,” the ceiling chirped cheerfully at her. “Mister Jones, the scratch on your head will heal in .98 days. Would you like to hear more about head wounds bleed more than regular wounds?”
“No thanks,” Killian sighed, laying back in his bed. He looked up at her appraisingly, his brow furrowing with concern. “What’s on your mind, Swan? You’re making a face.”
“Am I?” Emma asked distractedly. Killian sat up again and moved closer to her. “I guess I was just thinking about what they said.” She sighed, looking down at her hands. “They’re not wrong. I was the one who took her out of the tree and closed her eyes. I was the one who sat with Imani. I saw it all firsthand. But that’s just the Games, isn’t it? That’s just how it is?”
“How do you mean, love?” Killian asked softly, his hand coming to skim across her shoulder. She’d felt her heartbeat begin to race and her breaths were becoming shallower, but Killian was there to reground her and center back in the moment with him.
“Midas said Abigail’s reaping was a punishment. And her death was a message,” she said slowly, as if by stretching out the words she could come to a revelation and uncover why he seemed to think that. “I always thought that mayor’s kids were entered once just to make it fair.”
“Love, I’m pretty sure that nothing about the reaping is entirely fair,” Killian said wryly, looking at her. He watched her silently for a moment before adding, “But you think it’s something more.”
“I don’t know how to explain it, and I wouldn’t even know how to begin to quantify it,” Emma said, frustrated. “But this seems like more than the discontented ramblings of a man who lost his daughter. He seems to believe it so strongly.”
“Just because you believe something doesn’t make it true,” Killian said, though the look in his eyes was encouraging. He wasn’t arguing with her, simply trying to offer Emma another perspective to explore her thoughts freely. Knowing he didn’t doubt her made her heart sing and she would’ve kissed him if it weren’t entirely inappropriate for her to do so.
She thought it over for a moment, her lips pursed together as she considered everything she knew so far. Midas’s words, the peoples’ anger, the look on Lumiere and Megara’s faces, and what little Gold had told her about 8.
Emma gasped when she thought she had something. “What about the fabric?” Killian nodded, encouraging her silently. “This can’t be just about Abigail. Gold said that the Capitol was getting mostly unusable fabric sent to them and anything that was useable had our insignia on it. If Gold sent Midas a message with Abigail’s reaping then Midas is clearly sending one back.”
“I’m very flattered that you think the Swansong is ours, love,” Killian replied wryly. “Considering most of the country would probably just consider you to be the Swansong. But I need your help. Put the pieces together for me. Help me understand where you’re going with this.”
“There’s no way it’s just Midas ordering all of this because if it was, they would’ve booed him as well and torn him to shreds. But they didn’t. They stood with him,” she told him. In fact, the citizens of District 8 had stood deathly silent during their Mayor’s address, their eyes transfixed upon him.
She stood up abruptly and began pacing back and forth in Killian’s room from the window to the door. She could tell he was watching her, but she had no idea what he was thinking.
“And Midas said something about not wanting to make a weapon for Gold anymore. What weapon can be made from fabric?” Emma asked, mostly to herself.
“Perhaps its an armor?” Killian wondered out loud.
“But the Mistguard already have armor, and anyone who comes within a five-foot radius of Gold is checked for weapons so surely Gold wouldn’t need it for himself,” Emma pointed out, her brow furrowing as she continued her pacing. She sat with this thought for a moment, turning it over and over before she let out a frustrated grunt when she realized that she couldn’t seem to come up with any solution.
“You don’t have to have all the answers,” Killian reminded her softly.
“Having even one answer would be nice,” Emma replied sadly.
Chapter 10
Notes:
Oh hello. It's been awhile, but has it really? Once again, I've taken on the arduous task of making this series my NaNoWriMo and unlike last year I don't think I'll be finished writing this at the end of November. And I only say that because I'm about 30k words in NaNoWriMo now (around 65k words total) and I'm only on part 7 of my 19 part outline. Yeah. So this fic will EASILY surpass the length of predecessor and may even surpass the length of its source material (Catching Fire is 101,564 words). What it does mean is that I'm currently 5 chapters ahead of what's posted which means for more regular updates.
the story can resume and by the moon's rise maybe I'll also get to for another update this month. Maybe. And maybe I'll keep up this energy for December, who knows.
Anyway, you're not here for my rambling, you're here for Emma and Killian! Enjoy!
Chapter Text
Emma wasn’t sure if things were getting easier after 8 or they were just simply in Districts with lower stakes. Although, if she was honest with herself, 6 didn’t necessarily quantify as easy given that she had to spend the entire ceremony staring at Graham’s empty platform.
Giving Graham’s eulogy had been strangely easy and difficult at the same time. When she looked back on that night, her first ally in the Games was a boy she didn’t know all that well. But his story had been all too similar to hers and it made her wonder if she would’ve ended up like Graham if it hadn’t been for Killian.
It really all felt like dumb luck that she survived most of the time. As they stood out on the platform, it really felt like it had been circumstance that kept her alive and not skill. And it felt awful.
Midas could’ve had his daughter back. Imani could’ve lived. It could’ve been someone else. Someone that deserved it , Emma thought ruefully as they boarded the train that night. Graham could’ve made a name for himself, done everything right. But instead they have me and I’m the one who screwed everything up for everyone .
A warm hand on her shoulder drew her out of her thoughts. “C’mon, cherub,” Whale said gently. “It’s dinner time.” Killian was waiting for her expectantly, his eyebrows furrowed with concern.
“Not hungry,” Emma muttered, her eyes going to the floor. “I just want to go to bed.”
“If I have to force bread and soup down my throat three times a day then so do you,” Whale argued, gently nudging her toward the table.
“You need it more than I do,” Emma shot back weakly, not picking her head up. “You’re as thin as a rail these days, Whale. I know you think you can survive on whiskey, but it turns out that you actually do need like other things to survive.”
“Then you better make sure that I’m actually eating,” Whale replied. She still didn’t move. Whale nodded to Killian. “Give us a minute. We’ll be right behind you, Killian.”
“Emma?” Killian asked worriedly. He stepped in closer to her, just out of arm’s reach, before he asked, “I’ll see you at dinner, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Emma responded. “I just need a minute.” Satisfied with that answer, Killian went off into the dining car, leaving Whale and Emma alone. She waited until Killian was completely out of earshot before she mumbled, “That was a dirty trick, Whale.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Whale said serenely before walking over to the couch and sitting down. He closed his eyes for a moment, a wince of pain flashing across his face, before he settled again.
“You said we’ll. Like we’d both be there,” Emma replied, sitting on the floor, allowing her mentor to stretch out. The bags under his eyes seemed more pronounced at this angle and he seemed almost relieved to be laying down even though he’d spent most of the day sitting.
“Well, Killian wouldn’t have eaten without you,” he replied. “And I’m just going to tell you right now: at some point, the Capitol is going to use the health and safety of the other to try and get you to do something. It may not be this year, it may not be next year, but I can guarantee that it will happen. At least I’m using this as an opportunity to make sure you’re taking care of each other.”
“See!” Emma cried out frustratedly. “That’s just it!”
“That’s just what?” Whale asked.
“It wouldn’t have to be like this! If I hadn’t made the decision to take Killian to the dreamshade patch, it wouldn’t be like this!” she cried. “If it weren’t for the dumb luck that kept me alive, it wouldn’t be like this right now!”
“But you’d be dead,” Whale pointed out, sitting up a little bit.
For a moment, Emma was bitterly tempted to ask, “So?”
But she didn’t. She gently laid her arm over her eyes, as if the lights on the train were suddenly far too blinding. “I don’t deserve this. I just got lucky. I’m not a hero.”
“Walk me through your logic,” Whale urged. “Where do you think it was luck that you lived?”
“Walsh could’ve killed me—”
“But you were the one who severed the branch that killed him. Next.”
“Smee could’ve killed me and Killian saved me.”
“And then Felix would’ve killed Killian right there if you hadn’t helped him. C’mon, Emma. Is that the best you got?”
“The flash flood. I would’ve died if not for Imani.”
Whale hesitated, and Emma was sure she’d won there. That her mentor would finally see she wasn’t worth investing it because it had all been luck that she survived.
Except if there was one thing that Whale was always good at, it was surprising her. “Okay, you know what? That’s probably true that you would’ve died if Imani hadn’t intervened,” he started. “But why did she save you?”
“I…” Emma started, and then frowned, realizing that she didn’t really know why Imani saved her. “Because she was good and kind and deserved better than the whole mess anyway?” she asked bitterly.
“Most people who die in the Games are people who deserve better than the whole mess. Most people who come out of the Games are people who deserve better than the whole mess,” Whale agreed. “But the ones who come out? It’s not luck that gets a Hunger Games winner out of the Games. It’s the ability to keep fighting.”
“I thought we were done fighting,” Emma sighed.
“Unfortunately, once you’re a Victor, you’re a Victor for life,” Whale replied. She heard the shifting of the couch and she moved her arm away from her eyes so that she could look up at her mentor. “But think back. What did you do that first day? In the training center?”
“I fought for her,” Emma recalled. She gave a halfhearted smile to her mentor. “After you specifically told me not to.”
“As annoying as it was in the moment,” Whale responded. “You were right to do it. It saved your life in the end. It saved you with Imani. It saved you with Morgarzea. Hell, your ability to keep fighting not only saved your life but Killian’s life. Henry’s life too.”
Emma let out a wet sigh as she sat up, drawing her knees to her chest. “Then why does it feel like this, Whale?” she asked tiredly.
“Because you made it out alive,” Whale told her gently, putting a hand on her shoulder. He paused and added, “There are plenty of people who have left these Games with no remorse. For whatever their reason. Either they have no qualms in doing what they needed to do to survive or because they simply enjoy the Games. Does that help?”
Emma shook her head. “It just feels like there’s a lot that’s my fault,” she said sadly. “Both during and after the Games. And I feel awful about that .”
Whale nodded, not moving to sit beside her but he did give her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Do you know what the odds were? Of you winning?” he asked her quietly. Emma shook her head. “On the day that the Games started, the odds on you winning were about 46 to 1. Felix was the 2 to 1 favorite. Killian was at 58 to 1.” He leaned over to look her in the eye. “When the odds are that high, cherub? When they are not in your favor like that? It takes a hell of a lot more than luck to get by.”
He sighed and rolled onto his back. “I know that it may not be much consolation. Trust me. I’m no stranger to feeling unworthy. But try to remember that okay?”
Emma nodded, rubbing at her eyes. “Okay,” she murmured. “C’mon, we better get some bread and soup into both of us or they’ll start hovering.” She offered herself up to Whale as a crutch and helped him walk down the hallway. He felt so frail against her and she finally she asked, “You’re not okay, are you?”
“Jury’s still out,” Whale coughed. “But I’m not gonna drop dead on the tour if that’s what you’re worried about.”
That was clearly all he was going to say on the matter, so Emma left it alone once they got to the dining car. But she was pleased to see her mentor take a little more bread and soup than he normally had. And in turn, she took a little more meat on her plate than she had the day before.
--
If Emma was honest, she wished they had spent more time in 5. Not because it was particularly pleasant—honestly, Walsh’s eulogy was the phoniest speech she’d ever given in her lifetime—but because a change seem to come over Killian the moment they left 5.
There was a hard set to his jawline, his eyes were cold, and he was short and curt.
“I’m going to see Liam,” Killian told their mentor fiercely, a low growl behind his words. “That’s non-negotiable. I don’t bloody care what the schedule is. I don’t care who we’re supposed to be shaking hands with. I’m going to see my brother.”
“Well, you have to see Mayor Ophelia and Triton—” Tink started, but was cut off by Killian’s intense glare.
“I don’t bloody well have to do anything!” he snarled at her. “Especially where that bloody limp piece of seaweed is concerned.” He pushed away from the table and stalked away, a fire behind his eyes.
Both Whale and Tink turned their gazes to Emma. “Don’t look at me, I didn’t do anything,” she replied, taking a piece of bread and saving it so she could bring to Killian later. She was equally as stunned as they were. In all of the years she’d known Killian, she had never seen him this furious, bar when Smee tried to kill her while she was sleeping. It was the only time she’d ever see the unbridled fury she knew he kept well hidden.
“Maybe you didn’t do anything, but maybe go calm him down?” Whale suggested, taking another helping of mashed potatoes. “I don’t know if you know this, but we still have a President to impress.”
“Why would they need to impress Gold?” Tink asked confusedly. “They’ve already won.”
Emma used that as a perfect out to escape the dining car and head to Killian’s room. The door was firmly shut, so she just sat with her back to it. “I brought you the last of the sweet rolls,” she murmured softly.
While she mulled over Killian’s sudden change in behavior, it occurred to her that going “home” for Killian was going to be very hard for him. He’d last left 4 as an outcast, under the cloak of night. Liam was died, his mother was dead, his father nowhere to be found…
Her heart lurched when she put herself in Killian’s shoes.
“I know going to 4 is really gonna suck,” she started. She heard his derisive snort at the door. “So I’ll cover for you at the meeting with Triton if you want to go see Liam,” she told him. “I don’t care what Tink says. Honestly, I think the press will eat it up.” She gently placed her head against the door. “If I don’t have to do this alone, then neither do you.”
The door opened and Killian beckoned Emma inside. He sat in the corner of the room and she sat beside him, putting the sweet roll in his hand. “I don’t think they understand just how angry going to 4 makes me,” Killian said with a soft and sad sigh. His voice wavered a little and her hand gently anchored around his wrist with a gentle squeeze. “I never thought I’d get to go back…and now…”
“Are you worried they’ll try and claim you?” Emma asked, her thumb sweeping across his wrist.
“Somewhat.” He swallowed the lump in his throat. Her heart practically tore itself out of her chest trying to reach him and bring him back to her. “I’m also just…angry. I’m so angry at all of them, Emma.”
“So be angry,” she shrugged, looking up at him. His eyebrow arched—apparently he was shocked that she was all for him being angry even though she was pretty sure she was openly angry at least once a day since the Victor’s Tour started—and he opened his mouth to speak. She cut him off, “Whatever you’re mad about, it’s okay. It’s valid, Killian. You have every right to be upset. And you tell me when you’re ready.”
She leaned up and kissed his cheek, tucking herself into Killian’s arms. He chuckled softly and burrowed his face in her hair.
“How is it you always know what to say?” he whispered, running his hand skimming her back with the most reverent of touches. “I just…going there and having been through it all. What Whale did to protect us. What did they do to protect Liam? Why wasn’t he worth it? They’ll have to answer for that, Swan. I need them to.”
“I hope you get the answers that you’re looking for, Killian,” Emma said honestly, putting her head on his shoulders. “You deserve that much.” She took her hand and brought it to her chest as she closed her eyes.
“Thanks for coming after me, Emma,” Killian whispered.
“It’s what we do,” she hummed contently.
--
For as well as Emma thought their conversation had gone the previous night, it did not prepare her for the Killian that stood before the District 4 delegation the next morning. It consisted of Mayor Ophelia, the District 4 stylist Ariel and her two asssitants Basil and Tarte, and three Victors: Ursula, Blackbeard and Triton. Killian stood taller than she’d ever seen him, and his shoulders were held almost uncomfortably back. He stared unblinkingly at Triton, his anger just simmering below the surface.
When she placed her hand on the small of his back, he did not settle, but rather stood in front of her protectively, as if he needed to shield her from Triton.
“Killian, my boy, it’s so good to see you. You must be so pleased to be back at home in 4,” Mayor Ophelia said, smiling pleasantly, but Emma could see true fear in the woman’s eyes. Ursula, beside him, raised her eyebrows and looked down at the ground, almost as if she’d expected this all along and tried to stop it.
“Well I wish I could say the feeling was mutual, Mayor Ophelia,” Killian sneered, his voice still holding a low and dangerous note to it. “But I’m here for to see my brother. And I wish more than anything it was under happier circumstances.”
Triton looked incredibly guilty and Emma looked over to her mentor, trying to see if he knew what the hell was going on. Whale was looking back at her, tilting his head to Killian as if he was silently asking her to get him to behave.
Which, honestly, was quite the strange role reversal for the two of them.
Emma shrugged smally before stepping out from behind Killian. “Thank you so much for inviting us into your home today, Mayor Ophelia.” Her voice sounded higher than normal and she hated how fake it sounded. She hoped no one was catching on, but it was taking all of her strength to try and diffuse the situation before Killian openly threatened someone with his hook. “I’ll be staying here with you today while Killian goes to visit Liam’s grave. I trust arrangements have been made for this?”
She hoped the undercurrent to her tone was clear: if arrangements haven’t been made, they better get made in the next two minutes.
“Yes, Circe and Ariel—”
“Not Ariel.” The icy tone of Killian’s voice cut across the room as his glare fixed upon the mayor of his former District. Triton opened his mouth to object and Killian turned his icy glare on the older man. “You know damn well why not her.”
“Killian,” Emma murmured, placing her hand in between his shoulder blades now. They seemed to unwind only slightly at her touch, and Emma took that as an invitation to gently, and discreetly, rub his back. “I very much liked Ariel’s design for Felicia’s ballgown. She looked like an entangled mermaid. Could she stay so she can show me some more designs?”
The innocuous request seemed to put everyone at ease, so Emma continued, “Yes, perhaps Circe, Tink and Basil—” She smiled kindly at the shorter of the District 4 style assistants. “Could go with Killian to see Liam’s grave?” Turning her gaze to her own district ambassador, she gave Tink her most winning smile, “I think it’d be a lovely opportunity for the press to get to speak to Killian by Liam’s grave. They’ve heard me talk so much about Henry, let Killian have the spotlight for a moment.”
Tink let her agreement known with an excited gasp before immediately taking over the arrangements.
The two parties began to split ways, with Ariel, Triton and Mayor Ophelia at the front of her party. Killian didn’t say a word to her before she left, but she knew that she’d meet up with him later to try and help him.
Whale fell into step beside her for the briefest of moments. “Nice work, cherub,” he said underneath his breath. “And you said I never taught you anything.”
“Actually, I’m pretty sure I learned that one from Tink,” Emma replied softly, the corner of her mouth curling upward into a halfhearted smirk. “Looks like I’m finally learning how to play the Game too.”
Whale looked over his shoulder at Killian’s retreating figure, letting out a snort. “Seems he’s been holding out on us. If he’d shown us that last year, there’s no way he would’ve been 58 to 1.” And with that, Whale stalked away a little bit farther, muttering to himself about hidden depths.
“Liam was like that. The odds of him winning on the first day of the Games was 12 to 1. He’d impressed Pan with an impressive display of rage and violence, but that’s only because another Career had taunted him about hurting Killian right before he went in,” a voice from behind her said very quietly. Emma whipped around, her hand immediately going to her shoe for a weapon and cursed silently when she found herself defenseless.
Then, with an irritable shake of her head she straightened up, facing Ursula. “Sorry about that,” Emma muttered, running a hand through her hair. “Bad habits die hard.”
“You don’t need to explain yourself to me,” Ursula replied evenly, not even phased at Emma’s almost threat. She looked at Emma appraisingly for a moment. “But you look like you could use an explanation or two.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” Emma muttered, crossing her arms over her chest. “Were you Liam’s mentor?”
Ursula nodded, “Got my name picked out of a big glass bowl, just like him. He was a good kid, but…” She sighed. “Well, you know the story. You’ve lived it enough, haven’t you?”
Emma swallowed the lump in her throat, remembering not only how they’d played the footage of Liam’s death for Killian the year before, but the way that the black streaks had slowly crept up Morgarzea’s arm. “Yeah. I do.” She was quiet for a moment, reflecting on everything that had been said. She thought about Killian’s behavior, the absolute disgust and hatred that filled him when he looked at Triton.
And then she remembered that day in the corridor on their way to training, and how Killian acted then.
Triton’s response to it didn’t seem quite right either. Every wince the old tribute made…well it only made Killian’s anger more justified, didn’t it?
At least some puzzle pieces are finally starting to add up, Emma thought. She spent another moment looking at Ursula before asking, “What was so different about Liam’s reaping?”
Her eyebrows shot up for a minute and she let out a short, harsh laugh. “Victor told me I couldn’t count you out for anything,” Ursula replied, shaking her head. “I always knew Killian was a smart boy, and he showed it in the Games. I just thought you were a good with a sword.”
“Well, it turns out I learn quick,” Emma responded, not unfurling from her tense posture. “So, what can you tell me about Liam’s reaping?”
Ursula smiled bitterly. “It’s actually not Liam’s reaping that was faulty. Liam was picked fair and square, just like anyone else. Although, I don’t quite know if having your name pulled out because your father ran out on you is exactly fair, but…”
Emma’s brow furrowed again, mentally replaying the scene with the delegation.
Aside from Triton, the only person who had drawn such an intense reaction out of Killian was…
“Ariel,” Emma realized softly. “Something must’ve happened. Either Ariel was pulled out and she got out of going somehow or her name wasn’t put in at all…how was she able to get out of going to the Games when Midas couldn’t get Abigail from going?”
“The fairness of the Games, I suppose,” Ursula replied with a wry tone. “Everyone’s name is entered. Children of the people, children of mayors, children of Tributes…everyone gets an equal shot at glory in the Hunger Games.”
But Emma knew that wasn’t true, not when Midas was so convinced that Abigail’s death was punishment for something.
“Triton,” Emma realized with a soft gasp, her head jerking up. “Triton must’ve done something to keep Ariel out of it. And then that year Liam died…”
And left Killian all alone , her mind supplied unhelpfully. She made a halfhearted movement to turn around and go find him, before she realized she had no idea what she would even say to him. She found herself staring in the direction he’d left in, even though he was long gone at this point. “Does he know?”
“How do you think we got him out of here?” Ursula asked, following her gaze. “And how do you think Killian was able to afford a boat?”
Her hands curled into fists, and suddenly she understood Killian’s anger perfectly. “He was a boy alone in the world. He’d lost the only family he had left. And you all bought him off and sent him away from everything he’d ever known,” she snarled lowly. “And I hope he never forgives any of you for it.”
“If it’s any consolation, I promised to keep my eye on him. And when I realized he’d found his home at last, I let him go live the life that he never could’ve had if he stayed,” Ursula replied. Looking Emma up and down she added, “He found his home. It may not have been the one the thought he was going to have but he still found it.”
Emma didn’t say anything, even as Ursula walked away. Her meaning was clear enough and Emmma didn’t need or want her to elaborate on it. Killian had been through so much. More than she thought she could ever bear in her life, and aside from today he handled it with his head held high and demeanor calm.
She had no idea how she could be his home if she wasn’t worthy of the title. She had no idea how she could be his home when she was the most destructive force she knew. Surely the tour had proven just how bad she made things. She’d kept secrets, lashed out at him at every turn…hell, he’d seen the destructive wake she’d left behind because she’d survived the Games.
Just how badly had she tricked him that he could still look at her with such love and affection in his eyes?
Chapter 11
Notes:
I love NaNoWriMo. Since I've posted my last chapter, I've made it to Part 10 of the outline, have about 9 other chapters that I haven't posted, I'm just about to pass the word count of The Hanging Tree...and we're still only about halfway through this fic. Well, maybe 3/4s. I'm still not in the Games just yet. I additionally love being this far ahead because then I get to ask, "Wait, where I am I again?" and then re-reading it and getting excited all over again.
Anyway, y'all are in for a DOOZY of a chapter. Enjoy!
Chapter Text
The remaining three districts had been blessedly uneventful and more of what Tink had been expecting from the whole venture. Though she learned that Hans had twelve older brothers who all seemed very indifferent to his death, Cruella’s father was long dead and she had been suspected in his death, and Felix was just as feared at home as he was in the Games.
Killian had settled somewhat after their departure from 4, but Emma could still see the flashes of pain in his eyes.
Although it may be caused by the fact that once again…they were back in the Capitol.
Somehow, it was more manageable and more overwhelming since their first visit. They knew to expect the crowds, the cameras, the autographs. All of it. But the lens with which they were being examined was seemingly tenfold. As soon as the train passed in to the outer wall of the capitol, a great cheer could be heard even from the train.
People had made signs from their windows welcoming Emma and Killian back to the Capitol. Children in school chased the train frantically as if they could somehow keep up. One woman burst into tears as soon as she saw the train whizzing gently across the rail.
Emma hoped that was a good sign. That the adoration meant that the Capitol was swayed by their love story, as was Gold. And if Gold was swayed by their love story, maybe things would finally settle down and they could focus on getting through their first Hunger Games as mentors.
No matter who was called to mentor—Emma, Killian or Whale—Emma knew that three of them would support each other and help each other get through it.
But before they got through that, they needed to get through the next moment. Killian’s gaze was apprehensive as he looked out across the Capitol scenery, knowing that with each moment they were getting closer and closer to their destination and all that lay before them.
Emma sat beside him, very gently resting her head on his shoulder. When he looked down at her, she looked up at him with a half-hearted smile. He drew his arm around her and gently tucked her against his side.
“We’re back,” she sighed, taking his hand in her own.
“Aye, that we are,” Killian sighed. At first he didn’t say anything, just holding her as they watched it all pass them. Finally, he said, “Looks so different in the day time. Do you remember?”
“The lights were so bright we thought there was a fire,” she recalled with the softest of whispers. “Whale told us that we needed to keep our head.” Killian’s thumb gently ran across her shoulder. “We were so different when we go there. We’d both been struggling to survive and now we have more than what we know to do with…”
“We do,” Killian murmured. He seemed lost in thought for another moment before he asked, “Emma? There’s something I want to ask you, though given my poor behavior in District 4, I’d understand if you were apprehensive about doing any kind of favor for me.”
Emma shifted to look up at him more clearly and so that she could see him. “Ursula told me. About Triton and Ariel,” she admitted. “So frankly I think you have all the right to act the way you did.” Her free hand gently rested on his chest above his heart. “I just wish I’d known sooner. I would’ve come with you to see Liam or done more to help you get through it.”
Killian’s brow furrowed in surprise and his mouth hung open a little bit. “But Emma, you did help!” he protested, stroking her cheek with his thumb. “You helped me more than anyone there.”
“I did?” Emma asked, her mouth dropping open a little bit in surprise. “You were so angry and upset, I thought I wasn’t any kind of help to you at all.”
“Emma,” Killian murmured, and Emma had to stop the skip in the beat of her heart at the absolute tenderness with which he said her name. “You always help.”
“How?” she asked breathlessly, leaning up a little bit more toward him.
He smiled to himself as if he couldn’t believe that she was asking him that question at all. “Because the odds are always in my favor when you’re near,” he murmured tenderly. His head dipped in a little bit toward hers and he raised his eyebrow at her questioningly. She nodded and closed the distance between them, capturing his lips in a gentle kiss to start.
His mouth moved insistently against hers and she pressed herself in closer to him until the need for air broke them apart. “It’s been far too long since I’ve gotten to do that,” he rasped softly, gently bumping his nose against hers. “Not since…”
“The arena,” Emma whispered, not daring to open her eyes.
“We kissed during Spindle’s show,” he pointed out, his breath catching against her ear as he nuzzled her cheek.
“Not the same,” she told him softly. “We kissed for them.” Her nose came to gently brush against the spot behind his ear that he loved to scratch when he was nervous. It felt so safe to just melt into him that she never wanted to come back out. “In the arena we kissed for us.”
“Aye. You’re right.”
They stood there for awhile, pressed as tightly to each other as they could allow it when Emma suddenly remembered that the whole thing that had started all this was Killian asking a favor of her. “You wanted something from me?” she asked softly, pulling back to look him in the eye. Her hand came to brush his hair out of his face and he darted up to kiss the scar on her palm.
“Aye,” Killian replied softly, pulling back only slightly to look at her. “I wanted to know if it was okay for us to share a room once we got to our lodgings in the Capitol.”
“We’ve pretty much spent every night together,” she laughed. “Why wouldn’t it be all right?”
“We normally start apart and I…I’m not…” He sighed, pulling a little bit farther from her now. “It started in 4 and has only gotten worse as we’ve gotten closer to the Capitol. This feeling of…needing to be alert. Almost like…it’s almost like…”
“Like we’re going to be thrust back into the arena at any moment?” Emma finished weakly, giving him a sad and sardonic smile. He nodded, giving her a disheartened smile of his own. “I know exactly how you feel.” Her hand went back to rest over his heart to make sure it was still beating strongly. “You…you make it easier to bare. When you’re around…then I know everything’s okay. But…”
“But?” Killian asked apprehensively, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.
“But I just feel like…you…you deserve better than me,” Emma said quietly, looking down now. “I know you just said that I make you feel like the odds are in your favor but I don’t…I don’t understand how you feel that way about me.” She swallowed the lump in her throat, still unable to look at Killian. “Look at how much chaos and destruction I’ve caused! The chaos! The hurt! Look at how many families I’ve torn apart just to keep my own together.”
“I could write essays on all the good I see in you, my love, but I suspect it won’t do much good at the moment,” Killian told her gently. “So I’ll just say this: you are conflating choices as you made as an individual with the responsibility of a system that was put in place so that you would have to make those choices. And I understand what that feels like. Remember? What was the first choice I made in the arena?”
“You killed Smee to save me,” Emma replied immediately. She smiled a little bit rolling her eyes. “Whale already gave me a version of this pep talk after 6.”
Killian chuckled and kissed her forehead. “It sounds like it did some good.”
“Don’t you dare tell him that,” Emma warned.
“So…what do you say, Swan? Will you stay with me?” Killian murmured.
“Always.”
--
From the train station, it took them over a day and a half to get to their lodgings. Gold had insisted that they take a carriage through the streets of the Capitol, so that they could be paraded around for the masses. Not that Emma entirely minded, for it just meant that everyone would just look at them and not talk to him.
She and Killian occasionally exchanged an errant kiss in order to drive the Capitol citizens wild, but it certainly wasn’t anywhere close to the kiss they’d exchanged on the train.
Again, not that Emma minded. There were some things that she didn’t mind keeping to herself. That were just hers and Killian’s.
And he was a very good kisser.
The carriage ride had a surprising benefit as well: it allowed Tink and Whale to go, in depth, over the plan for their time in the Capitol while they travelled to their lodging and would afford Emma and Killian a rare moment of downtime when they arrived.
First they would go on Spindle’s show, then there would be a Victor’s Ball where not only would they celebrate their win for one last time, but it was an event that all the Victors would be invited to. And after the Victor’s ball, they would be free to go home and live their lives unbothered until the start of the Quarter Quell.
And while Emma was nervous about the Quarter Quell, she knew there was nothing she could do about it now and so it would just be a matter of enjoying herself until that moment when Gold announced just what the twist for the Quarter Quell could be.
She found herself wondering what other perks she would get as a mentor if any, when their carriage finally pulled up in front of the Victor’s Mansion.
If Emma thought their floor in the Tribute quarters was spectacular, it had nothing on the Victor’s Mansion that they were staying in for the week. The exterior of the mansion was made of nearly all white marble, with gold climbing up the marble like vines. There were expansive grounds with an orchard, several water features, and an extensive wine cellar.
Or so Whale told her.
It seemed like far too much house for only four people, but Whale explained that the vastness of it all were for Districts like 1 and 2, who had plenty of Victors to spare.
“The oldest winner living winner of the Games won seventy years ago,” Whale told them, reclining back in his chair. “But there aren’t necessarily many Victors left.”
“How come?” Emma asked.
‘Oh, you know,” Whale replied, taking a long swig of his drink. “A life of too much excess is bad for you. Especially if you’ve never had it before.” He started down at the mouth of the bottle for a moment. “The Games don’t end just because you win.”
But then the melancholy left his eyes as the chair began to warm itself up and he leaned back contentedly. “Just as comfortable as I remember,” he said happily. “Maybe even more so. I’ll have to thank Belle for that one.”
With their mentor happily curled up in his creature comforts and Tink fluttering around the mansion elsewhere, Emma and Killian were left to their own devices. “Shall we go exploring, love?” he asked, tilting his head at her.
“Don’t get lost!” Whale called after them. “This place is so damn big that I don’t know how I’m gonna find you again!”
Killian chuckled, offering his arm to Emma. She gladly took it and placed her head on his shoulders. He started down one of the paths, and it wasn’t long before they were both treated to the most vibrant and colorful wildlife they’d ever see. The flowers that lined their path were every color of the rainbow she could possibly imagine, and they all smelled delicious and sweet.
A pink flower grabbed Killian’s attention and he stopped in front of it. The plaquard in front of it read “Middlemist”. With a devilish smirk and a life of his eyebrows, he plucked one of the Middlemist flowers and gave it to her. “For you,” he murmured.
Emma smiled and took it from him, wrapping her arms around his neck. She looked up at him adoringly, only to find a very thoughtful expressing clouding his eyes. “What?” she asked with something of a nervous laugh. “Is there something on my face?”
“Yeah, your face,” Killian quipped, harkening them both back to one of the earliest days of the Games. She laughed and gently tapped his shoulder with her hand, but there wasn’t much power or bite behind it. “I was just thinking about the other day on the train.”
Emma gently cupped his cheek in her hand, her brow furrowing worriedly as she took him in. “Do you need a break?” she asked. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“I’m fine, I promise,” Killian rumbled. “It’s just…now that we’re alone…” Her eyebrow quirked up in spite of herself, and Killian laughed, kissing the tip of her nose. The stubble tickled and she giggled, scrunching up her nose. “I was thinking that I needed to apologize.”
“What for?” Emma demanded, pulling back only a little bit so she look at him more clearly. “For being vulnerable?” When Killian ducked his head instead of immediately answering her, she couldn’t help her eyeroll. “Killian. You know that being vulnerable in front of me isn’t a hardship for you or me.”
“Aye, I know, Swan,” he murmured softly. He gently leaned forward to press his forehead to hers, and her hand came up to gently play with the hair on the back of his neck. Killian tucked her in closer against his chest and she couldn’t help but smile as he did so. “I just…I can’t do this without you. I know that’s selfish—”
“How is that selfish?” Emma asked seriously. “We survived the Games together. We have to get through this tour together. You can lean on me. I won’t break.” She felt something akin to indignation bubbling in her chest, although it wasn’t at Killian. She couldn’t help but feel annoyed at whoever made Killian feel like he couldn’t be vulnerable when he wanted to be.
Though Killian was more in tune with his feelings then most other boys their age that Emma knew—which, really, was just Neal—there were still depths to him that she knew he wouldn’t let himself feel. And it pissed her off that he gave her all this space to be angry and sullen when she needed to be, but he wouldn’t afford any of the space for himself.
But she knew she couldn’t just…yell that at him, even if she wanted to. She was the queen of knowing that being yelled at was not the way to get somebody to understand greater emotional truths about themselves.
So all she said was, “Hey. We’re talking again, right? So talk to me when you need to. It’s going to be a long Quarter Quell if we don’t. Maybe I’ll get everything you’re going through and maybe I won’t. But…try something new. It’s called trust.”
““If there is anyone I trust in this life, it’s you, Emma Swan,” Killian murmured fondly, effectively taking her breath away once again.
The last time he’d said that to her, they’d been standing atop the Cornucopia and she’d had some half-baked idea to end things because they couldn’t bring themselves to kill the other.
And now look at us, she thought, giving him the shakiest of smiles. Out loud, she said, “I’m glad we’re talking again. I really missed you when we were apart.”
Killian just beamed at her. “Aye,” he replied, swaying with her as the breeze gently picked up some flower petals around them. “I missed you too, love.” They danced there like that for a moment, green eyes gazing into blue before he asked, “Did you find what you were looking for, love?”
“Sort of,” Emma admitted with a shrug, just letting him lead her in the waltz that they seemed to be doing in the garden. “But as I was trying to find my peace, I also realized just how important you are to me. And how much having you nearby meant to me, Killian.”
“But you had Neal and Henry,” Killian pointed out with a shrug. “You would’ve been just fine without me.”
“Not a chance,” she huffed, tapping him with the Middlemist. “I had them, yeah, but they didn’t get it. And I don’t think I ever want them to be in a position where they got it either.” She looked up at him as their dance seemed to slow to a halt, petals still skittering about them in the breeze. “And them not knowing made me feel more alone than ever.” She swallowed to make sure her voice was clear and that Killian understood exactly what she was trying to say, “But with you? I know I’m not alone. I don’t always understand why you choose to support me and believe in me. But I do know I’m not alone.”
“And you never will be,” Killian promised, taking her hand and kissing it gently. “If it has to be us against the Capitol, so it shall be.” They stopped dancing when he added seriously, “I’m not going anywhere, Emma.”
Emma sucked in a deep breath at those words. Not that she was surprised. She wasn’t surprised at his declaration in any way, shape or form.
But as they’d spent the last day a half in the carriage, she’d come to a realization of her own regarding their futures and she didn’t know how Killian was going to feel about it. She wasn’t even sure how she was going to broach the subject with him, not really. She still was convinced that he deserved so much better than her, that he deserved to be loved by someone who would be good for him.
“What’s on your mind, Swan?” he murmured. “I can smell the smoke from here.”
Damn him.
“I…” she started before sighing. “I was just thinking how…every year for the rest of our lives, we’re going to have to keep the balance. Appease the Capitol. Smile for the cameras. And we’re going to have to do it together.”
“Are you okay with that?” Killian asked cautiously, his hand gliding down to rest on her hip.
“Of course, there’s no one else I’d rather be standing with than you,” she huffed, rolling her eyes with the tiniest of smiles. But as soon as it came, the smile faded. “It’s just…this really is the rest of our lives. Us. Together. We’re never going to have a chance at being with anyone else. We’ll be like Snow and David and while I don’t mind that, I just…”
“You wish that we both had the opportunity to explore before we chose each other,” Killian finished, stroking her hip gently with his thumb. “Well, if it makes you feel better there is truly no one else on this Earth I’d even consider marrying.”
“Smooth talker,” Emma teased, her shoulders slumping with the relief that he understood her. “I bet you have a ring and everything.” She gasped when he dropped down on one knee. A lump gathered in her throat, but no tears spung to her eyes. “Oh my god, I was kidding,” she rasped.
“I’m not,” Killian replied, taking a chain off from around his neck. “And I want to propose to you here. Where no one else can see. Where it’s just us and it’s one damn thing we have control over before we surrender the rest of our lives over to them.”
Tears filled his eyes when he looked up at her, extending the ring to her. “I wanted to do right by you, Emma. I wanted to do a proposal where it was just us and a candlelit dinner. I wanted to tell you so many of the wonderful things I see in you, and I wanted to tell you how the best thing that ever happened to me was the day that you crashed into me and you let me into your world.” His voice broke. “I wanted to just have this and have it mean something instead of something we have to do for them.”
Emma dropped to her knees and cupped his face in her cheeks. “So then let’s,” she said fiercely, her shaking hands stroking his face. “Let’s do this for us. Maybe it won’t be a storybook marriage, Killian. But I know I care about you so much. And that’ll be enough to make me happy. And I just hope that I’ll be enough to make you happy.” Her voice caught for a moment. “I’ll try my hardest. I really will.”
“As if you could ever make me unhappy,” he replied tenderly. He leaned in and she gladly reciprocated his kiss, their mouths moving together ever so gently as if too deep of a breath would break them apart.
Emma gave him a watery smile, gently stroking his cheek. She was suddenly reminded of the night before their Games, and what she’d thought to herself then.
She had been so overwhelmed by everything, and yet Killian grounded her and calmed her. He wanted to hide behind his carefree façade, the bravado he’d mastered but she was more than happy to let him show her where he was hurting.
They were so similar in so many ways, and she was glad that he was here at the Games with her.
Even if it meant they were a couple for what was conceivably the rest of their lives.
And if there was anyone that she had to spend the last days of her life loving, by all means Killian Jones was not a bad person to be stuck with.
With a watery laugh, she affectionately kissed his forehead. “What?” he murmured tenderly, his blunted wrist gently cradling the underside of her chin. His blue eyes searched hers, somehow full of joy despite how horrid the situation was. “What’s going on in that head of yours, love?”
“I was just thinking about how…that night I was having the panic attack,” Emma told him, a soft blush tinting her cheeks. “When you were sitting with me…I…I remember thinking to myself that if there was anyone I had to be stuck with the for the rest of my life…I’m glad it was you.”
“I’m glad it’s you too,” Killian rumbled, nudging his nose softly against hers.
It always took her breath away how much faith he had in her. How much adoration was in his eyes whenever he looked at her. There was a time when she’d been more terrified than bolstered by it, but now the two seemed to ebb and flow in a tide. Killian loved so passionately, and while she hadn’t quite figured out what she had done to deserve it, she cared about him too much to let him down.
So, rather than trying to use meaningless words, she leaned in to kiss him again.
Chapter 12
Notes:
Thanks for all of your kind notes in the last chapter! I'm so glad you guys liked Killian and Emma's engagement. Unfortunately, we can only keep good things for so long in this fic as our lovers head back onto Spindle's show to show their engagement off to the world...
You'll (hopefully) be pleased to know that I'm long past The Hanging Tree's Word Count for this fic (currently sitting pretty at around 89k in my word document). Am I at the Games yet? Nope! So you've all got quite a bit to go of this fic! Enjoy!
Chapter Text
“So how’d you get a ring without me even noticing, huh?” Emma whispered, not opening her eyes. They were sitting on a chaise further in the garden, hidden from any prying eyes. The servants had gladly brought them lunch, and Emma had been quick to hide her ring from them.
She and Killian had agreed it would be best to also do a televised proposal on Spindle’s show the next day would be to their benefit. If they were going to be engaged, they were going to control how it got out and who they would release it to.
Of course they still had to tell Tink and Whale, but they just wanted their engagement to belong to them just for a little while longer.
Killian’s fingers gently played with the ring on her hand, and Emma had to admit she was already dreading when she would have to take it off. “It was Liam’s ring,” he said quietly. “It was the one thing of our family’s that I took with me when I left 4.”
Emma’s heart nearly stopped in her chest at the revelation. This was—without any argument—Killian’s most treasured family heirloom and he had just given it to her. “I can give it back,” she blurted out anxiously. “And we can get another ring. I’m sure Tink knows people and I—”
“Emma, I want you to have it,” Killian laughed, as if her nervousness was endearing to him.
“I just don’t want anything bad to happen to it if it’s all you have left of Liam,” Emma replied in a small voice, folding her hand around his. “This is…this is like…the biggest thing you could possibly be trusting me with.”
“Isn’t that what marriage is?” Killian asked simply.
Emma tucked herself against him to try and soothe the anxious racing of her heart. “It wasn’t that long ago that you didn’t trust me because I kept secrets from you,” she started, her anxiety still revved up. “And what if you decide that you hate me because the Games made us do this and I—”
Killian’s smile twisted sympathetically, and he stroked her back to try and help ease her breathing like she knew she liked. “For the first charge you’ve laid against yourself, you’ve more than made up for it,” he started patiently, rubbing her back to the even cadence of his words. “You apologized and not only did you apologize but you’ve tried to prove to me again and again that you trust me and have been open with me. I don’t hold it against you any longer. I know why you did it and I also have faith that you know that we’re a team, love.”
“How are you even real?” Emma asked, completely dumbfounded at his line of reasoning.
“I’m just as real as you, Emma,” Killian replied, still calm and patient as ever. “Full of my own weaknesses and faults as you’ve well seen by this point.”
She had seen the vitriol that he’d held onto in his heart, and the way that fury and anger seemed to swallow him whole sometimes. His anger led to him lashing out and on occasion she’d seen the protective streak that bordered on recklessness at times.
Still, his faults did not seem as nearly insurmountable as hers.
“And what if you stop loving me?” she asked in a small voice, her eyes darting to the ground. “This really is for life, Killian. We don’t get the option of a divorce. And I don’t want to hold on to Liam’s ring if it means that I’ll have to give it back to you some day.”
Killian pulled her close and gently kissed the top of her head. “I can’t promise our future is going to be perfect,” He murmured, his hand still gently rubbing her back. “But I can promise you a future. I’ll never stop fighting for us, Emma. Never.” She felt his smile against her scalp and she looked up at him. “Liam used to say that ring was his good luck charm, and he had me hold onto it for safe keeping when he went to the Games. And I truly believe that this ring has brought me good luck and kept me safe.”
He tilted her chin up to him so he could look at her earnestly when he said, “And now it’s going to keep my heart safe.”
Emma was not entirely sure of how strong his devotion could be in the wake of something that was all but forced. She nearly vocalized that to him, but suddenly could not bare the thought of any of it being fake. She wasn’t sure why that fear had suddenly popped into her mind, but she pressed her forehead to Killian’s with a small nod, to try and banish it from her mind.
“Will you tell me a story about him? Liam?” she whispered, pulling back to look at him. His eyebrows quirked in surprise and she added, “I won’t get to meet him. You have so many wonderful stories about Henry and you’ll get to know Henry. But I won’t ever get to know Liam. So…please. For me? Will you tell me about him?”
Killian gave her a warm smile as he gently brushed his thumb across her cheek. His thumb gently stopped in the dimple in her chin when he murmured, “Just when I think you can’t stop surprising me, Emma.”
He shifted so she was leaning back against him. Her head came to rest on his chest so that she could listen to his heartbeat as he told the story.
“When we were boys, my father had once sent us out of the house for the day,” Killian started softly, his hand gently stroking Emma’s hair. “At the time, I didn’t think anything of it, but looking back now…my mother clearly was struggling. As much as she loved us, I’m sure the frenetic play of two bombastic young lads probably wasn’t conducive to any sort of repose.”
Emma smiled and pressed a kiss to his chest to try and take away some of the sting of the memory.
“My father had laid out a series of challenges for us, and we were to report back to him on who had done better in which challenge,” Killian recalled, his hand stopping for a moment. With a derisive snort, he added, “Probably one of the few paternal duties he actually performed and quite well. He always knew how to keep us entertained. Liam and I were horrifically competitive, and my father always used that to his advantage.”
He let out a bark of a laugh, “Whenever he wanted to egg me on, Liam would always call me little brother. I used to hate it when he did that…” He closed his eyes and let himself be lost in a deeper memory for a moment. Emma was going to leave it at that, perfectly content to let Killian tell the story at his own time and turn, when he admitted to her, “The last thing he ever said to me was ‘wipe that look off your face, little brother’. I scowled deeper and he laughed…and that is the last memory I have of Liam.”
Emma gently took his free hand and brought it to her chest, squeezing tightly at the pain in his voice. She let him have a moment longer where he mourned Liam before she prodded gently, “So what about these contests your father set up for you and your brother?”
“Right, right,” he chuckled, kissing her forehead. “So…these were both intellectual and physical challenges. Liam was four years my senior, and so it was an unbelievable pain in my arse that he kept winning. I must’ve been four at the time, and the more he kept winning the more frustrated I got.” His eyes lit up at the memory and Emma couldn’t help but let out a sign of relief. “So, I promised myself that I would do whatever it took that I would beat Liam in one challenge.”
Emma gently stroked his wrist encouragingly, giving him the space he needed to tell his story. She wanted to get a sense of this person that she would never meet but was so important to Killian. She watched the emotions chase themselves across his face as he lived in the memory for just a moment.
“So one of the last things our father instructed we do in our race was that whoever could climb higher in the willow tree by the river would get double the points,” Killian murmured, his voice catching. “I think about that tree often…it seemed so much taller when I was a boy. But I wanted more than anything to beat Liam. And I thought…I thought I could because Liam was scared of heights.”
“And were you? Are you?” Emma asked curiously, realizing that she didn’t know if Killian was afraid of anything.
“Spiders and small spaces, love. Spiders and small spaces…” Killian added, smiling weakly at her. “And when I was a lad, I was terrified of falling out of that tree, but I wanted to beat Liam. So I climbed maybe twenty, twenty-five feet ahead of Liam in the tree.” His voice wavered and he squeezed her a little bit closer to him. He closed his eyes as he took a few shaky breaths as he tried to control himself. “Sorry. I’m sorry, love.”
“No, no,” Emma soothed, stroking his cheek gently, brushing his tears away. “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell this story if it’s too much. I get if it’s too raw to talk about after we went to 4. It’s okay, Killian. I’ll be right here.”
Killian buried his face against her, his breath hitching as he sobbed. Emma wrapped her arms around her tightly, cupping the back of his head. She kissed his head repeatedly, tears pricking her own eyes. “It’s okay…” she whispered. “It’s okay, just let it out.”
She could never imagine how much pain Killian was in. Losing Henry was unfathomable to her. She knew better than anyone how important a bond with a sibling was. When all they had was each other, Emma and Henry clung to each other and their bond was stronger for it. To know that Killian only had his memories left made Emma’s heart shatter into millions of pieces.
Every jagged sob of his cut into her and she buried her face against his scalp, trying to remind him that she was here and that he wasn’t alone anymore.
“I miss him so much,” Killian whispered, his voice quavering.
“I can’t even imagine,” Emma replied softly into his hair, stroking the back of his neck gently. “I can’t even imagine how much it hurts. But that’s why you don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready. It’s okay.”
“But I want to,” Killian rasped, shaking as he curled into her. “But that’s the thing, Emma. I want to share this with you. There’s been no one I could tell for so long and now I have you and I just…want you to know about me.”
Emma smiled and cupped his face in her hands, brushing away his tears with both thumbs. Tears gently trailed down her own cheeks. “I want to know you,” she encouraged him gently, leaning up to kiss his forehead. “If you’ll let me know you.”
Killian smiled and pulled her back in close as he told his story again.
--
Being on Spindle’s show was just as…irritating as she’d remembered.
The noise of backstage was buzzing and chittering, and it just sat uncomfortably on the back of her neck and caused her to cringe. At least this time, she and Killian were allowed to sit with each other in the green room.
And best of all, Merlin was with them.
“Do I get my suit now?” Emma asked in lieu of a greeting, even though her smile was giving her away. She hugged her stylist before pulling back to look at the outfits he’d brought for her and Killian.
“Hey, Swansong,” Merlin laughed, taking out a soft pink dress out of a garment bag. “Not today,” he chuckled. “But I didn’t forget. I promise. You’ll get your suit someday soon.” He turned to Killian, his eyes gleaming. “And I’ve got quite an outfit for you.”
Killian opened his garment bag. “A leather jacket?” he asked, looking up at Merlin with a confused tilt of his head. “Why a leather jacket?”
“I’ve been reliably informed that we need to toughen up your image a little bit,” Merlin replied, handing Emma her dress. “A little fish from District 4 told me that you’ve got a fire in you that we definitely need to play up more.” He nodded encouragingly at Killian. “Deep digging.”
“A new hook?” Killian asked. At first Emma was concerned about Killian’s well-being, but he seemed to handle the new brace with reverence. The gold, similar to that of the manor, wove its way around the brace of it. But instead of having no purpose or shame, the golden lines came together to create a feather at the top of the brace, right where the hook locked in and out of the brace.
“Do you like it?” Merlin asked eagerly. “I made the design myself.”
“It’s perfect,” Killian whispered, sliding the brace over his wrist. Looking at Emma, he asked, “Can you help me lock this in? I think you should probably know how to do this if we’re going to be spending the rest of our lives together.”
“Ahhh, so that’s why the pants needed to be flexible,” Merlin replied, brushing down Killian’s pants with a lint roller. “I thought that was a very odd last-minute request for Tink to make. But if you’re planning on getting down on one knee, you definitely don’t want them to rip. Go try them on and let me know how they fit. We probably have time for a quick hemming if need be.”
Killian gladly took the pants and was ushered off by Mab and Titania. Merlin waited for a moment, his eyes following them and making sure they were out of sight and earshot when he asked, “Are you okay with what’s happening? Marriage is a big step for someone said they weren’t sure how they felt about Killian.”
“It was my idea,” Emma told him, her fingers gently tracing the flowers on the bodice. “We agreed to get married yesterday, and it was my idea to do this on Spindle’s show.” When Merlin’s frown didn’t entirely dissipate, she tried to assuage him, “Merlin. It’s okay.” She smiled down at the dress, “He’s so good, you know? It’s kind of annoying.”
“You like him,” Merlin teased affectionately, holding the dress open so Emma could get changed. “And I’m glad you came to that realization, Emma. I think you’re good for each other.”
“He’s good for me,” Emma sighed, closing her eyes as Merlin’s hands swept her hair up into a ponytail. “I still don’t know how good I am for him.”
“Well, luckily for you he loves you dearly,” Merlin hummed gently, spraying some hair spray to help her hair be set. “How’s the dress? Can you breathe okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Emma said. She beamed at herself in the mirror, watching the dress swirl as she twisted her hips from side to side. “Besides, even if I wasn’t fine it’d only be a few minutes at the most.” She looked at her stylist. “What’s the worst that could happen?”
“Well, Gold could be here,” Killian replied, coming back into the room. They’d given his hair a little bit of a bedraggled look and put dark eyeliner around his eyes. Apparently, this was more of an edge that they were looking for with this look.
Emma felt her jaw drop, not at Killian’s news, but at his look. “You look…”
“I know,” Killian replied with a little eyebrow wiggle in her direction. She spotted her ring sitting on the chain around Killian’s neck before her eyes went back up to his. “You look absolutely stunning, Emma.”
“Oh look, she even matches her dress,” Whale snorted as a blush tinted Emma’s cheeks. “Did you tell them the news?”
“Aye, I just told them,” Killian responded, taking Emma’s arm and folding it around his bicep.
“Wait, Gold’s here?” Emma’s brain had finally caught up with her mouth. “What’s he doing here?”
“Well, after you two have your moment with Spindle, he’ll probably announce the theme for your Victor’s Ball—” Merlin started, affixing some leaves to Emma’s hair.
“--Another ball?” Emma complained.
“But if you’re announcing your engagement, I’m not sure what he’s gonna do or how to respond to that,” Merlin replied through a mouth full of fake leaves. “Mab, where’s Killian’s leaves for his collar.”
“Sorry!” Mab squeaked, weaving their way through the group. “I’m sure President Gold will be so thrilled for you both! Everyone likes a good love story!”
Emma and Killian exchanged a look, but stayed perfectly still as Merlin, Mab and Tatiana put the last few fixings on their outfits. When Tink came into the room, it was more than clear that she had tears in her eyes.
“Are you crying?” Whale asked in surprise.
“No,” Tink lied with a sniffle. “They just look…so grown up. When we got them at the Reaping I never thought this would happen or them. And now you’ll get your happily ever after.”
Whale grimaced before awkwardly patting Tink’s shoulder. “Well, if Tink’s reaction is anything to go by, you’ve done your job and then some, Merlin,” he said, which was probably the closest thing to praise Whale was actually able to give Merlin.
“Five minutes to places, Emma and Killian,” a stagehand called, throwing open the door to the green room.
“Thanks, five,” Emma answered. She stepped a little closer to Killian to get a firmer grip on his arm so that they could walk out on stage together. She rested her head gently on his shoulder and he smiled, kissing her forehead.
“Emma, please stop pacing,” Merlin said patiently. “If you break your heels before you go on stage, I don’t have enough time or resources to fix it!”
“I need to move!” Emma shot back hastily, resuming her back and forth pacing in the green room in the studios. “I’ve been bed bound forever, I just need to move.”
“Emma,” Merlin said a little to knowingly. “I promise you that Killian will be out there when you go out on stage. I’ve seen him. I’ve spoke to him before I came to sit with you.”
“But I haven’t,” Emma huffed impatiently. “Not since the Games. They separated us at the hospital and I haven’t seen him since! No one would let me see him and I don’t know why!” She folded her arms over her chest, thankful there were no applique feathers on the bodice of the dress.
She let out a little snort of laughter against his side and buried her face against his shoulder for a moment. She couldn’t help but smile against him and she wanted to keep that hidden from the others just for a moment.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he murmured against her skin.
“I was thinking how much I hated it last time when we were here,” Emma told him, her voice lost to all but him in the hustle and bustle of backstage. “When they’d separated us. I nearly drove Merlin up the wall because I hadn’t seen you since the Games and I hated it so much…”
“I’m just glad I have you here now,” Killian murmured, his hand skimming her back. She picked her head up and smiled at him and he leaned into kiss her. She quickly pecked him back gently on the lips.
Together, they walked arm and arm through the backstage, their heads held high. Emma couldn’t help that her heart began racing with nerves all over again. Having Gold in the room was an unexpected twist, but she was hoping that their engagement could take Gold off of their backs at least for a little while. Slipping away into relative anonymity except for the Games sounded nice, but she wasn’t entirely sure if Gold or the people would let them.
For a moment, she shrunk back against Killian’s side, hearing the excited rumblings of the crowd and feeling the electricity in the air. He stopped just before where they were supposed to wait for places and he shifted to stand in front of her. He put his hand on her shoulders and gently pressed his forehead to hers.
“You okay?” he whispered softly, squeezing her shoulder. Her chest began to hitch a little bit and Killian guided her chin upward. “Hey. Hey. Look at me, Emma. Just stay with me for a moment and breathe.”
She breathed in through her nose and exhaled slowly through her mouth. She kept her forehead pressed against his and focused on the warmth of his hand and the warm timbre of his voice. When her panic subsided enough to calm her down, she gave him the shakiest of smiles. “I’m okay,” she rasped. “I’m ready.’
“You sure?” Killian murmured, leaning over to kiss her cheek gently. Emma nodded, giving him the very weakest of smiles. “Remember I’m right here.” He kissed her forehead before he pulled back and faced the wings.
Spindle gave them both a very excited wave and Emma let out an exasperated laugh through her nose. “I see them now just waiting to come on!” she cooed to her audience. “So let’s welcome back our battle-born now: Killian Jones and Emma Swan!”
Somehow the bass of Spindle’s theme song seemed even louder and if it hadn’t shook the stage, Emma would’ve been shocked. She felt it reverberating in her skull and she was almost sure that it was right in her chest as well. She smiled and waved at the crowd who seemed to roar with appreciation at her arrival.
“Emma! Killian!” Spindle gushed after kissing their cheeks. She gestured to the couch and the two sat next to each other, with Emma cushioned comfortably beside Killian. “It’s so good to see you both! How are things?”
“Well, I have to admit, having two weeks spending time with Emma unencumbered is a delight,” Killian hummed, kissing her head gently. Emma leaned into his kiss, letting her eyes close contently. “What have we been doing in between stops, love?”
“A lot of sleeping,” Emma laughed, turning back to Spindle. “We do a lot of resting in between each District. But we’ve been doing some baking, right, Killian?”
“Aye, love. And we’ve learned that you are to stay far away from the oven at all times,” Killian replied smartly, tapping her nose. The audience laughed with him.
“That’s not true!” Emma gasped, turning to him again. This was easy. This she could do. The easy back and forth banter with Killian was something that was easy and manageable. She could almost forget the audience if she could just focus on him.
“Oh? Remember the bread incident?” Killian asked, arching his eyebrow. He clearly was referring to the lumpy apology cinnamon rolls that she’d made him, but somehow it warmed her heart to know that he valued keeping some things that were theirs as much of anything. And the best part was that it really was theirs: no one would know the difference if he changed the details of the story.
“You’re lucky you’re cute, selling me out on national TV like this,” Emma huffed, pretending to be angry with him as she crosssed her arms and turn away from him. He darted around to kiss her cheek and she smiled, melting a little bit into his embrace. The audience and Spindle were absolutely loving this, and Emma was once again bolstered by it. She and Killian made an extraordinary team when they had the chance to really work in tandem. And they hadn’t rehearsed any of their answers.
But fighting together and living together had given them the chance to see how the other moved, where the next play was going to be, and how they could support each other.
“Have we wandered into a lover’s quarrel?” Spindle goaded playfully, leaning into them. “We’d hate to break up Misthaven’s favorite couple, right?” she asked the audience and they cheered for Emma and Killian.
“This isn’t a lover’s quarrel by far,” Emma said with a grin as she leaned toward Spindle. Looking over her shoulder, she added, “I mean, the tour has been nice. I know Killian lived in 4, but I’ve certainly never been anywhere else. It’s been nice to learn about the people of Misthaven and other districts.” Her smile softened when she added, “And it’s been nice that we can still learn things about each other. That we can surprise each other in the best ways possible.”
Had it really only been a few weeks ago when she thought Killian hated her? She could go back and laugh now, thinking how ridiculous she had been when she tried to isolate herself from him. And still, only Henry and Neal knew about that and they weren’t going to tell.
“Actually…I have a surprise for Emma today, if you don’t mind, Spindle,” Killian said shyly, scratching behind his ear.
“Oh?” Spindle asked, her eyebrows climbing higher and higher on her face. It took all of Emma’s will to not start smirking, especially when the crowd began to murmur excitedly.
“Killian?” she asked, her brows furrowing in concern. “What’s going on?”
Killian took his hand in hers and laced their fingers together. “Being together these past few weeks on the Tour has made me realize something important about us.” He swallowed the lump in his throat as he murmured, “You are without a doubt…my best friend, my left hand, and the absolute love of my life. Even if you’re a mess in the kitchen.” He paused, taking the ring off from around his neck and getting down on one knee.
The audience shrieked and screamed at the top of their lungs and she could faintly hear Spindle saying something but it hardly mattered to her as she looked at Killian. She brought her hands up to her mouth, surprised that tears were already forming in her eyes before he’d even asked the question.
When things quieted down again, he continued, “Being on this tour has made me realize that I don’t ever want to spend another day without you. You are the sun that rises in the morning and the tide that brings me home. And I hope you’ll do me the honor of becoming my wife.”
Emma’s “yes” was nearly lost to both Spindle and the studio audience absolutely losing their minds as Killian slipped the ring onto her finger.
Thank god for microphones, Emma thought wryly as Killian captured her lips in a soft and sweet kiss. His thumb gently came up to wipe her tears away as they sat down on the couch again.
“I’m sorry, I don’t even know why I’m crying!” Emma sniffled, and even though the tears were real her sniffle may have been a little bit more over the top than the situation called for. She held out the ring in front of her, glad that Liam’s ring had made it back onto her finger. She really didn’t know why she was crying. She knew that Killian was going to propose to her—technically they were already engaged—but still, his earnestness always moved her.
She let Killian tell the story of Liam’s ring and how he’d taken it with him from District 4. He reiterated nearly everything he’d told her the day before, and she just sat there, listening and smiling at him.
Going to 4 had been a turning point for them, intentionally or otherwise. Killian was freer with his hurts but also his affection. And Emma didn’t mind the exchanges of casual intimacy they’d shared with one another. It was like going to 4 had awakened in something for both of them and solidified the friendship they had with one another.
It’s why pretending was all so easy.
Though if Emma was truly honest with herself? She hadn’t been pretending in a long, long time.
“Emma?” Spindle asked her. “Are you happy?”
“Yes.” She looked over her shoulder at Killian so he could see it in her eyes. “I’m the happiest I’ve been in a long time.”
The audience clapped excitedly, cheering for the couple they claimed to love so much.
“Well, isn’t this such a wonderful day for our studio audience?” Spindle asked excitedly. “Because not only do we have our Swansong couple here with us, but President Gold is giving an exclusive on our show!”
If the studio audience was excited at Emma and Killian’s presence, they were absolutely exuberant with the notion that their President would soon be joining them in the studio audience.
“Should we bring him out now, folks?” Spindle asked brightly and the audience all but shrieked with glee. “Okay, everyone! Here he is!”
The bubble of warmth and safety that Emma had felt so cushioned by immediately popped as soon as Gold stepped out. His skin glittered harshly in the studio lights, and his eyes had taken on a slit-like quality to avoid being blinded by the harsh glare.
Emma shifted against Killian, her hand tightening protectively around her, as Gold came to stand in front of them. “Well, I must say: we are very fortunate that we were already going to host a Victor’s Ball,” he started and the hairs on the back of Emma’s neck shot up, especially when the audience laughed along with his joke. “But it would very much be my honor if you would allow me to turn your Victor’s Ball into an engagement party.” He turned to them, smirking down at them.
“Thank you, President Gold,” Killian chimed in immediately. “It would be a great honor. You are far too kind to Emma and I, and I know we’re both appreciative.” She tried to smile and hope it was convincing enough for the studio audience.
Looking into Gold’s eyes, however? It was clear enough that he’d seen what happened in District 11.
And he hadn’t forgotten it.
Chapter 13
Notes:
Thank you all so much for your comments, likes, kudos, and reblogs! You're all so incredible and I hope you enjoy this chapter!
Chapter Text
“This is still not my suit,” Emma complained as Merlin zipped her up into another dress. “Tink promised that when I won the Games I could be as fashion forward as I liked.”
“Well, you didn’t win alone, and it’s my understanding we need to be appeasing a certain President because he’s not happy with you two,” Merlin replied, smoothing out the hem of her dress. “Isn’t that what you told me?”
“It’s not my fault he saw what happened in 11 and didn’t believe that I was trying to pacify the districts,” Emma muttered, keeping perfectly still as Merlin expertly braided her hair. “Which…I don’t know. Maybe I could’ve done a better job. Except I don’t really feel like I did anything one way or the other.”
She sighed as Merlin attached a white swan feather crown to her hair. “I don’t think I’m a very good swansong.”
“Well tonight you don’t have to be a swansong,” Merlin replied, smiling down at her gently. “You just have to be Emma.”
“The swan feathers suggest otherwise,” Emma said unhappily, looking herself over in the mirror.
The dress was beautiful and Merlin had truly outdone himself with the design. In any other circumstance, it would’ve been a perfect wedding dress. It was a white dress with a laced bodice that fell into a sweeping white skirt. The sleeves were longer than she was used to, but somehow it worked. It all cascaded, just like her hair.
But Merlin was still frowning as he looked at her. “The swan feathers are a bit overkill tonight, aren’t they?” he asked sympathetically. She looked at him and gave him a little grimace. He held up a finger to her to keep her still. He turned around and rummaged through a trunk before pulling out an all white flower crown. He swapped the swan feathers for the flowers and Emma couldn’t help the smile that came to her face. “Better?” Merlin asked.
“Yeah,” she said, grinning now. “Although, I think it’s a little gauche to be showing off my wedding dress before Killian and I actually get married.”
“You think this is your wedding dress?” Merlin snorted. “What kind of amateur do you take me for?” He gently fixed the flower crown a top of her head, taking extra care with the flowers there. “Swansong, trust me. This is not your wedding dress. Your wedding dress is going to be leagues better than this.”
“Is it going to be a suit?” Emma asked hopefully and Merlin chuckled, shaking his head. “You won’t forget, right?” she asked, letting him fuss with the last bits of her hair.
“Something tells me you won’t let me forget, Emma,” Merlin teased her, stepping back. He smiled fondly as he took her in from head to toe. “I won’t forget. I promise. But you have to do something for me first.”
“Okay,” Emma asked, raising her eyebrows at her stylist.
“Have fun tonight,” Merlin said gently, brushing some invisible dust off of her shoulder. “The world isn’t going to fall to pieces just because you and Killian just take it easy for one night. I know there are some people who are very excited to celebrate with you.”
The news had reported all day of former Victors filing into the Capitol, and Emma, for one, was thrilled at the prospect of seeing David and Snow again. She knew Killian was also excited to see Archie again and to properly introduce him to Emma.
“Okay,” Emma responded, sticking her hand out to Merlin. “I think I can manage that. But only for tonight and only if Spindle doesn’t spend all night chattering my ear off.”
“Well, I have been reliably informed that she won’t be there,” Merlin laughed, but the light left his eyes as quickly as it entered.
“Is it Nimue?” Emma asked hesitantly, remembering the last time her stylist had come face to face with Gold’s right hand woman.
One of Gold’s private Mistguards opened up the door to the car and Gold’s personal assistant, Nimue, came to escort them down the shimmering carpet. Her face was flecked with gold sparkles, just like the President’s were, making her face look like it was made of granite.
“Merlin. How…surprising to see you here.” She cast an appraising eye over the man. The low timbre of her voice sent a chill up Emma’s spine.
But Merlin seemed unfazed. If anything, he just looked sad. “Nimue,” he said quietly, dipping his head respectfully toward her.
“When they gave you 7, I never thought you’d actually have any sort of winning design,” Nimue sneered cruelly. “But I suppose now you’re the talk of the town. I guess you’re still full of some surprises.”
Emma looked back and forth between Merlin and Nimue, ready to punch this woman in the face for talking to Merlin that way. When the woman’s back was turned to escort them inside, Emma spun around furiously to speak to her stylist.
But he just shook his head and gave her a sad smile. “Don’t let me ruin your big day, Swansong,” he encouraged gently. With a glower up at Nimue’s back, he added, “Ignore her. She’s all bark and no bite.”
Merlin’s mouth opened with shock before he closed it again. “When did you figure it out?” he asked sadly.
“Well, there was when you told me I had to tell Killian about my feelings or he’d become an advisor to Gold,” Emma said wryly. “And then we met Nimue and she knew you so…it wasn’t, like, so hard to put two and two together after that.” Emma gently folded her hand over Merlin’s and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I can make sure you’ll never see her,” she offered.
“Thanks, but I’m not going,” Merlin replied, running his free hand over his face. “I have a wedding dress I need to start designing, remember?” Her mouth opened in protest and she chuckled, “Don’t worry, Swansong. This is normal. Stylists dress for the event, they don’t get to go the event.”
“What happened between the two of you?” Emma asked softly.
“One day,” Merlin promised. “One day, I’ll tell you about the girl she used to be. How two kids from 8 were so lucky to be accepted into the Capitol’s embrace. And how one of us was spared from the Hunger Games and the other wasn’t.”
It chilled Emma to the bone that Nimue was a Hunger Games winner.
Just like her.
--
“Emma, I swear to god, stop fidgeting, it’s a party,” Whale scolded as Emma shifted from side to side. “It’s a party with a bunch of people that I happen to like and you don’t have to ruin it by being weird.” He took three drinks from a passing waiter and passed one to Emma. “Can you just chill out, sweetheart?”
“No,” Emma muttered darkly. “I can’t chill out.”
“Nerves are very overwhelming,” Tink told her sympathetically. “But you look incredible as does Killian!”
He did look very handsome. His black leather jacket had been traded out for a black and red leather great coat with ostentatious gold buttons. His hair, once again, was ruffled up by the stylists, but there was no denying he looked incredibly handsome.
“What do you suppose the odds are all the Victors just hang off to the side while the Capitol citizens talk?” Killian muttered, clearly hating every moment of this too.
Emma let out a huff of laughter through her nose. But before she could speak, she heard someone calling her name from across the lawn, “Emma! Emma!”
“Snow! David!” Emma said happily, disengaging herself with Killian so she could rush up to greet them. As she expected, the two gladly enveloped her in an embrace, and David cupped the back of her head for a moment. Though she’d balked at this type of exchange when she first met the couple, she had to admit it was nice now.
“It’s so good to see you both again,” David said fondly, pulling back so he could look at Emma and Killian. “And congratulations on your engagement!”
“Thank you,” Emma replied, beaming from ear to ear. She noticed Snow quickly wipe away a tear from her eye, but felt that the party probably wasn’t the most appropriate place to call on it.
“You two must be so happy,” David added, clapping Killian’s shoulder.
“The happiest,” Killian murmured, sharing a look with Emma.
“Come, we want you to meet some of the other Victors!” Snow said, taking both of their hands in hers. “Mostly this party is for Capitol funders to congratulate themselves on their betting odds. You may have to put in some face time after the first dance, but I wouldn’t worry about it too much!”
If she had wiped away a tear before, her voice didn’t show it.
Emma looked back at Whale and he said, “There’s enough booze here to fill a small lake. I’ll be fine.”
“Victor,” David said warningly. “Take it easy tonight, will you?”
“This night is about them and as far as I’m concerned it’s about me too. I got them this far so they’d get engaged and so that means I can drink as much as I want if only for tonight.” He stood toe to toe with David for a moment. “Got that?”
“C’mon, let’s leave the boys to talk,” Snow said encouragingly to Emma and Killian. Emma looked over her shoulder one more time at Whale and David before Snow gently dragged them away and through the massive throng of people.
A small group of Victors stood at the edge of the party clearly comfortable with one another and chatting amongst themselves. They seemed to forget that a raging party was happening all around them, and Emma was excited to get to know these people better.
Killian stiffened beside her and she looked at him questioningly.
The dark-haired girl with red streaks in her hair turned to look at them. “Well, you said you wanted to meet me,” Ruby Lucas said with a strained smile. “Here, I am.”
“So you are,” Killian said stiffly. “I’m Killian.”
“I know,” Ruby said quietly. “You’ve got your brother’s nose.” The two stood there staring at each other for a long moment. Then, Ruby added, “I will not hold it against you if you feel like you can’t talk to me. I can’t imagine how hard it must be to even look at me. I can go talk to Whale. He owes me forty bucks anyway.”
“No, no…stay. Please,” Killian said quietly, slipping his hand into Emma’s as an anchor. “I know you weren’t the one who did it and I can hardly hold it against you for surviving.” He smiled weakly. “Besides. We’re all Victors now. And I’ve been reliably informed that Victors have to stay together.” He spotted Archie and gave the man a little wave.
“Well, Whale did say you were cute and smart,” Ruby chuckled, gesturing at two chairs at the table.
“If Whale thinks they’re smart, I don’t know that’s the best value judgement,” a woman with black hair snorted into her martini. She looked at them appraisingly for a moment. “So, this is the two troublemakers in the flesh, hmm? I’d expect them to be taller.”
“Well I’m not done growing yet. I’m sure the same can’t be said for you,” Emma retorted, and the other woman’s mouth curled into a delighted smirk.
“Emma, be nice!” Snow scolded immediately and Emma rolled her eyes. The woman snorted again into her drink, taking a hearty sip.
“While you probably should be a little more appreciative given that I saved Whale’s hide after your little stunt,” the woman huffed. “I knew you weren’t all sparkles and glitter like they made you out to be.”
“Oh, so you’re Regina Mills,” Emma realized, putting two and two together. She suddenly recalled Regina having to act as Whale’s “second” when he went to go meet with Gold and Pan after the Games. She’d completely forgotten about that in her attempt to try and keep her own head above water. “You were Whale’s second…” She licked her lips nervously to rid them of the dryness before she sat next to Regina. “What exactly is a second?”
“God, your mentor is the worst. How are you two even still alive?” Regina asked in exasperation.
“Hey! We have the limbs we started with and we’re here!” Emma fired back, feeling protective of Whale. “That’s more than I can say for Hans and Cruella!”
“Relax,” Regina said wryly, taking another sip of her drink. “Whale has been my friend longer than you’ve been alive.” She couldn’t help but smile. “Though now that you mention it, your takedown of Hans was particularly impressive. Good reflexes.”
“You’re not mad?” Emma asked hesitantly.
“God, no. That little prick deserved it.”
“Regina!” Snow scolded. “Someone could hear you!”
“So let them,” Regina replied, waving her glass at Snow. “I’m taking a page out of Victor’s book this evening.”
“Regina, that excuse barely works for him. I don’t think it’s going to work as well as you think.” Emma sort of recognized Archie from their brief visit to District 9. The man gave her a kind smile. “It’s nice to see you both again. How was the rest of your journey?” he asked kindly. Emma could see why Killian would take to Archie’s demeanor in the wake of the Games.
She smiled back and opened her mouth to answer him, but Ruby cut the off, “We know how it went in the other Districts. Everybody’s eyes were on them like 24/7. I wanna see the ring!”
Emma held her hand close to her chest not wanting anyone but especially strangers to even look at Liam’s ring let alone touch it.
Killian’s hand immediately came to her back to remind her that she was safe and nothing would happen. So she very tentatively reached her hand out to show Ruby the ring.
“What? No diamond?” Ruby asked, picking up a skewered piece of meat off of the stick. “Can’t you both afford a nice rock now?”
“This was Liam’s ring,” Killian replied, trying to keep the iciness out of his tone. His hand came to wrap protectively around Emma’s waist. Her eyes flickered over to his and it was clear they both felt the same way.
These might’ve been Victors, but it did not mean they were safe.
An older woman sitting beside Ruby promptly gave her a smack upside the head. “Ow!” Ruby exclaimed. “What’d I do, Granny?”
“Besides not use the common sense you were born with?” Granny asked dryly. “Nothing, nothing at all.”
“Child abuse is against the law,” Ruby replied, still rubbing the spot where Granny had hit her.
“Pretty sure that only counts if you’re a child and last I checked you’re not a child anymore. Or so you like to keep telling me,” Granny replied, tearing into the first dinner course that they placed in front of her.
“Well, technically it would have an impact on Ruby’s development. Her brain isn’t fully formed for another few years,” Archie pointed out.
“So that explains why she’s a dumbass,” Regina replied, finishing off her drink. “Where’s Robin? He was supposed to bring back another round for all of us.”
“Oh, look! There’s David and Robin now,” Snow let out a sigh of relief.
“Where was David anyway?” Ruby asked.
“Wrangling Whale,” Snow sighed. “Victor seems to be in a mood this evening.”
“Yes, we had to pry these away from Victor but I think he’s willing to sacrifice these to the cause,” Robin replied, leaning over to offer them all a drink.
“With Pan and Gold here?” Regina asked, snatching another drink out of Robin’s hand without even a word of thanks. He smiled affectionately as if he expected it. “I don’t blame him.”
“Pan and Gold are here?” Emma asked nervously, her eyes starting to scan the crowd.
Snow softened and gently reached out to squeeze Emma’s hand. “Don’t worry,” she soothed. “The President and his advisors mainly stay inside the The Ebony Castle for the evening’s festivities.” She pointed to the looming dark castle that was about a mile up the road from them. “They usually make an appearance for dancing, no longer than fifteen minutes and then they’re out. I’m sure you won’t even see them.”
It was just as menacing and eerie as Emma remembered and she sighed, nervously tucking her hair behind her ear with her free hand.
“So how is being engaged?” David asked cheerfully, trying to pull Emma away from her nerves and anxiety. “You two must be raring to go to get married.”
“It’s actually not that different,” Emma admitted, resting her head on Killian’s shoulder. “We just like being together so we figured why not do this…forever.” He smiled and kissed her hair.
“I don’t really see being married as being different than our lives right now,” Killian replied with a soft grin. “Just means we don’t have to hide under any kind of pretense when we stay with one another.”
“How are you feeling about being mentors in the Quarter Quell?” Snow questioned, reaching out to squeeze Emma’s hand. “Are you nervous at all?” She shifted even closer to Emma, gazing at her intently.
There was a time where Emma was disturbed or distracted by it. But the more she got to know Snow and David the more she knew that it was just how they were. And it was kind of nice to be looked after and cared for after spending the last few years doing all of the caring.
Emma was about to answer them when the blaring of trumpets sounded. President Gold was standing on a balcony that overlooked the dancefloor. Even from where she was standing,t he gold shimmer of Nimue’s skin gave her away. On Gold’s otherside where two people Emma did not recognize. One had blue hair like flames, and a brick like tattoo on his arm. The other was a beautiful woman in a green dress. Flowers seemed to be blossoming from the dress itself.
And on Nimue’s other side was Pan.
His once youthful and handsome face was marred by three giant scars that ran diagonally across his face. The wounds still looked like they were healing.
“What happened to him?” Regina whispered, her eyes wide with horror.
Emma tapped Killian’s shoulder so he’d lean in closer. “When Gold came to visit me before we went on tour, he said that Pan had gotten into an accident,” she explained in the softest voice she could. Gold’s voice was mostly drowning her out, and Killian kept his ear very close to her mouth. “When they were putting those beasts away…he said one of them had scratched them.”
“Well that’s close enough to the truth,” Killian muttered, barely moving his mouth. “But I say they did more than scratch him…” Killian looked at her out of the corner of his eye. “You think it was intentional? For letting us win.” She gave him the smallest nod she could and he exhaled through his nose.
“And now, it would give me no greater pleasure than to have our happy couple take the dance floor for the first dance,” Gold announced. A cold smirk passed over his lips as he added, “And may the odds be ever in their favor. To Emma and Killian!”
“To Emma and Killian!” the party echoed and before she could blink, there was a spotlight on them.
Luckily, Emma had learned at this point to just let her instincts take over and let Killian guide her to the dance floor. She let him lead the waltz, trusting him completely to guide her around the dance floor. For a moment, it was just the two of them, twirling around each other. There was a moment where her fingers gently closed around his hook and it felt like the most natural thing in the world. And when her hand touched his hook again, her gaze could only follow his hook outward.
It was the applause that brought them back to themselves. Emma leaned up to kiss him softly, her hands cupping his cheeks and the crowd around them went wild. Soon other couples began to join them on a dance floor and the young woman she’d seen on Gold’s balcony tapped Killian’s shoulder.
“Hello,” she said pleasantly, and her voice reminded Emma very much of wind chimes. “I was wondering if I could steal your partner for a dance.”
“Who are you?” Emma asked suspiciously, her tightening around Killian’s brace.
“My name is Persephone,” the woman replied, her voice still light and lyrical. “And I promise I will only steal him away for just one dance.”
“I’ll be all right, Swan,” Killian murmured, slipping away from her grasp. “Once dance and I’ll be right back beside you, okay?” He smiled pleasantly enough as he took Persephone’s hand and led her away.
“Okay,” Emma whispered, feeling lost and alone on the dance floor. It seemed so much larger without him, but she couldn’t focus on that feeling for too long. She broke out into a cold sweat as she felt someone’s eyes on her.
Looking over her shoulder, she could see Pan standing a few feet away, his malicious smirk only amplified by the new scars he had obtained. Before she even knew what was happening, he took her hand and whisked her onto the dance floor.
“Admiring my new scars, Emma?” he asked. The lilt of his tone while still light and easygoing had a clear undercurrent of hatred in his tone. His eyes only highlighted it. “I suppose I should thank you for that.”
“Well, if only I get to thank you for the ones on my hand and legs,” Emma responded, keeping her face impassive as he spun her around.
“Well, the Hunger Games wouldn’t be as fun without a little carnage.”
“All Victors have to pay a price. Isn’t that what Gold says?” Emma said lightly. “Maybe it’s your turn to pay the price.”
Pan smiled coldly and pulled her in a little bit closer. Leaning over, he snarled into her ear, “You bested me last time, Emma. And I promise you: Peter Pan always wins. You won’t be so lucky in the Quarter Quell.”
The music ended and he pulled away from her, turning around to applaud the performers with a jovial smile.
Killian was quick to sweep her back up into his arms before the next dance started. “Are you okay?” he asked worriedly. “You’re as pale as a ghost.”
“I am?” Emma asked faintly. She still kept ruminating over Pan’s threat and trying to figure out what it meant. He guided her over to a pair of chairs, far away from the noise and lights of the crowd. “I think I was just threatened,” she explained dazedly.
“What?” Killian asked urgently, his hand skimming over her skin as if to find some physical injury.
“Pan told me I wouldn’t be so lucky in the Quarter Quell,” she repeated, her eyebrows furrowing as she looked over at Killian. “Does this mean Pan’s going to take our win out on our Tribute?”
“Or perhaps he means to harm whatever future child we have,” Killian said worriedly, his thumb now swiping over her wrist. “After all, we did just get married…perhaps he’s already anticipating the next Quarter Quell.”
“Or both could be true,” Emma muttered, hanging her head for a moment. Killian shifted closer to her so he could catch her forehead with his shoulder. “Do you regret asking me to marry you yet?” she teased weakly. “With targets on our backs for awhile like this?”
“There are a lot of things I regret in this life,” Killian said tenderly, rubbing her back gently. “But you’ll never be one of them.”
Once again, Killian’s utmost faith in her had Emma shaken to her core. Unable to process the feelings that overwhelmed her, she grabbed the coat of Killian’s collar and pulled him into a kiss.
She truly did not know how to process what she felt for Killian, but she knew she was the luckiest person alive just to have him with her.
Chapter 14
Notes:
I forgot that this chapter was over 6000 words. There's so so SO much that goes on in this chapter. What? Did you think that Emma and Killian got to rest after their engagement? Not likely...Enjoy!
Trigger Warning: Violence, Blood, Panic Attacks
Chapter Text
Emma had never been so happy to be home, bar when she’d first gotten home from the Games. As soon as the train doors open, she all but bounded down the ramp and collided with Henry. Hugging her brother close to her, she kissed his head. “Hey, kid,” she murmured happily, squeezing her eyes shut. “It’s good to see you!”
“Emma!” Henry laughed happily, hugging her close. “I missed you!” When he grinned up at her, Emma swore that he’d grown in the two weeks she had been away. She ruffled his hair and he just hugged her closer. “I can’t wait to hear all about your trip!”
“And I can’t wait to tell you!” Emma said with a grin, kissing his forehead. “Were you good for Neal?”
“I’m always good!” Henry protested, turning around to look at Neal. “Wasn’t I good?”
“Yeah, he was fine,” Neal muttered, not making eye contact with Emma. He stood with his hands in his pockets, not quite looking at her.
What the hell is his problem? Emma wondered, keeping Henry tucked protectively against her. Her eyebrows furrowed and Neal just kicked the dirt unhappily. "Well, thanks for looking after him," she said, trying to keep her uneasiness out of her voice. "Hope he wasn't too much trouble or anything."
"Nah, he was fine," Neal muttered. "I, uh, gotta go. Welcome home, Emma." He turned away--still not looking at any of them--and walked back toward his house.
And Emma wanted to say that it didn't bother her, but in all honesty it did.
Neal had been one of the few people to talk to her after she had come from home from the Games. He had made things normal and bearable when she hadn't been talking to Killian or Whale.
And now he was ignoring her and she had no idea what she had done wrong or why.
"Did something happen while I was gone?" Emma asked Henry softly, gently rubbing his shoulder.
"No," Henry said honestly, looking after Neal. "But, that day you guys announced your engagement he like didn't watch the tv much. He said he had too much work to do."
Was Neal jealous? Of Killian?
What is there to be jealous of? Other than being forced to marry someone against your will because you think it's going to pacify the warring Districts and a President who literally wants to hurt you and the people you care about? she thought, trying not to get annoyed and failing. Neal had no idea what she was going through, and it was incredibly irritating to feel like he was abandoning her without knowing all the facts.
If he liked me, he could've just said something, she huffed to herself, though secretly she knew that wasn't entirely true. She'd barely spoken to Neal about what happened in the Games or what her feelings about any of this were.
Part of it was that she knew how badly Neal wanted to be a part of the change in the country. He had talked about it before she'd gone to the Hunger Games. Hell, he'd talked about it the morning she'd been reaped. He'd always wanted to fight the Capitol because he didn't think it was fair.
And now I'm a part of that system, Emma realized sadly, biting her lip. Maybe my friendship with Neal can never be the same.
There was a part of her that was hoping that she could talk to Neal and try to get his perspectives. As a Victor she may not have had much pull in the Capitol, but if there were issues that she could try to help with, Neal would know better than anyone what the biggest issue in 7 was.
But you do know what issue to tackle, and you do know what is a prevalent issue that deserves to be brought to the people's attention, her mind supplied unhelpfully. The man in the tree flashed before her eyes and she shuddered at the memory.
And she felt like bringing it to everyone's attention would be an incredibly dangerous venture. Not only for herself, but for the citizens of Districts 12 and 11. The way they seemed to have every citizen under their thumb, the way that minor infractions seemed almost life threatening...but also, that was just how the system was. There was no need to fight...right?
Emma decided that maybe it would be best to just ask Neal's perspective the next time they crossed paths.
--
Except he refused to go anywhere near her.
Every time she would see him in town, he would avoid her. She would go out of her way to socialize more and he seemed to turn in the other direction whenever she arrived and he was there.
It was getting more and more frustrating that he was going out of his way to avoid her. It felt just like when she had first gotten home from the Games and everyone was ignoring her. Neal criticized Killian and Whale for not speaking to her for months and now he was doing the same thing.
With an irritated huff, she woke up early one morning to go to the market. She was going to try and catch Neal out if it killed her.
She was a Hunger Games winner, damn it. She knew how to stalk her prey.
So she got to the market and waited in the back corner by where Neal would bring some of the extra wood from the trees behind his house. She waited until he finished his transaction, her eyes watching his every step. She kept her breathing light so that she wouldn't make too much of a sound and that she wouldn't draw his attention.
It was when he'd gotten far away enough that she pulled him aside behind the mangled trunk of an old oak tree that still clung to life. He screamed and thrashed about, but she expertly dodged him before pinning him to the tree.
"Emma!" he gasped. "What the hell are you doing?" He only stopped thrashing a little bit once she realized it was her, but his eyes were still wide with fear.
"You stopped talking to me!" Emma shouted angrily, her hands curling into fists as she let him go. "So this is the only way I can get your attention apparently! Considering every day for the past week you just straight up walk in the other direction whenever you see me!" She swallowed the lump in her throat as she added, "Look. I don't have a lot of friends. And it really bugs me that you just stopped talking to me and you didn't even tell me why you stopped..."
As she was standing there, she realized she was missing the most obvious reason for why he could've just stopped talking to her all together. "Wait," she asked breathlessly. "Did someone threaten you? Is that why you're not talking to me? Because I'd totally get it if you'd--"
"No, no," Neal muttered, running a hand over his face. "No one threatened me. Although I'm surprised that option even showed up on your radar as a possibility. I'm sure the Capitol has better things to do than threaten a guy who just happens to know you."
"You'd be surprised what the Capitol has time for," Emma muttered and Neal's eyebrows practically shot up into his hair. "I...forget it." She sighed and looked up at Neal. "Seriously, is this about my engagement? If you just talked to me, you would've known that it was my idea. And even if it wasn't, I still would've agreed to do it."
"That's why I didn't say anything," Neal sighed, sliding down against the trunk of the tree. Emma sat beside him, letting him have his space to say whatever he needed to say. She didn't mind waiting. "It's just...not fair, Emma."
"What's not fair?" Emma asked confusedly. "My engagement?" She snorted. "What did you think was gonna happen Neal? Killian and I won because of the love story that we promoted. It's all the Capitol knows about us. Did you really think that this wasn't going to end some way or other?"
"Did you just ask him because you thought you had to?" Neal asked hopefully. "So does this mean you don't really love him?"
Emma's jaw hung open and frustration crackled under her skin. "There are Districts that are basically under Mistguard control and all you care about is what? What guy I'm with? Who I have feelings for? Who has room for that when you're balancing the weight of keeping the Districts in line on your shoulders?" she snapped. "I'd have feelings for Whale if it meant calming things down!"
"What did you mean that Mistguards are controlling two Districts?" Neal asked, sitting up straighter as he looked at her. "Emma? What's going on out there in the real world?"
"Shit, I shouldn't have said anything," Emma muttered, putting her face into her hands. "I'm sure he won't like that."
"Who won't like that?" Neal asked. "Killian?"
"No...Gold," she said in a small voice. Shaking her head, she said, "I don't know everything. But I do know that Districts 11 and 12 are completely run by the Mistguard. Their mayors were most likely murdered." She looked down at the ground, wondering if Midas was next based on the way he was carrying on.
"You know," Neal said, a gleam entering his eyes that Emma did not like. "While you were gone, the Mistguards were saying that there was a mine collapse in 12 and so we should expect a coal shortage this winter." He stood up and began to pace back and forth in front of Emma. "But that's not true, is it?" he asked excitedly. "And the lack of new fabric from 8...Emma, are people fighting back?"
Emma did not like the wild gleam that had entered Neal's eyes. She'd seen what the Mistguard had done to the old man in 11. What they had done to Abigail for whatever Midas's transgression was against the Capitol. "I don't know," she half-lied. "Besides, it's not just that. The Capitol keeps all sorts of secrets." She licked her lips nervously and drew her knees to her chest. "You know that kid Walsh? That I killed?"
"Yeah, he like got into the tree freakishly fast. Like a monkey or something," Neal snorted, clearly not knowing where this was going.
"Because he was a monkey," Emma told Neal quietly, leaning her head back against the tree. "There are apparently some people in the country who can shapeshift into animals, including two tributes from District 5."
"And then they edit on air when they transform," Neal guessed correctly. Emma thought he'd be more horrified by this revelation, but he looked absolutely enthralled.
"You look really chipper about this," she pointed out unhappily. It had all been so terrifying and overwhelmed when she first learned but Neal seemed positively giddy.
"Emma, don't you see?" he asked excitedly, stopping in front of her. He was grinning from ear to ear. "This is just what people are going to need to wake up! This is what's going to get them energized! This is how we stop the Capitol!"
"Neal, you've only been in one fight in your whole life," Emma said disparagingly. "It was with me. We were 8 and if I recall correctly: I whooped your butt to next Tuesday."
"Now's a good time to learn how to fight then, don't you think?" Neal asked her with a devil-may-care grin before racing off back toward his home.
"That's not what I meant!" Emma stood up and called after him. She almost went to go get him when she looked up on the horizon. Several tanks were rolling into Misthaven. Not an army's worth, but enough for her to raise her eyebrows.
She'd have to find another day to deal with Neal. For now, all she wanted to do was go home and make sure that Henry was safe and sound, and not wrapped up in whatever was going on in Neal's head.
Shoving her hands in her pockets, Emma sighed as she began the long walk home. Being closer to town meant she was further away from the Victor's Alcove. Deciding that the walk would be a good space for her to clear her head, she walked to her old house.
The old house just stood there, as quiet and uninviting as the day of her parents' funerals. Her eyes roamed over the chipped paint, the mold in the siding, and the panels missing from the shutters. Once she and Henry had moved out, no one had seemed to want it or want to take care of it.
Walking up to the front door, she put her hand on a post where she and Neal had carved their initials when she was young. Her thumb gently traced over the NC of Neal's initials.
She was worried about Neal, if she was completely honest. He had never been in a fight for his life before. Not like she had. If he was really planning on being part of a revolution, he needed to start training.
She thought back about her own experience in the Games. Sure she was smart and quick on her feet, but at lot of what honed those natural skills was the advice that Whale had given her. He was the one who had coached her on her reactions. She had needed the training in order to survive. Even now, he was still training her to be successful. It may not have been subversive, but Emma wasn't entirely sure Neal was the best choice to lead a revolution in 7.
And who would be a good choice? You? A voice that sounded suspiciously like Gold's snarled in her head, all but stopping her in her tracks.
What made her a good leader of a revolution? She wasn't even sure she wanted to be, even though she knew that many people had seen her as a figurehead for whatever they were feeling.
Turning away from her old house, she began the long trek back to her mansion in Victor's Alcove. It still didn't feel like home and for all its grandeur was equally uninviting as the house falling apart behind her.
What battles have I fought besides the ones to stay alive? Emma wondered as she walked. In the last two years she had learned about the hardships of keeping herself and Henry alive on a lower income. She'd gone to the Hunger Games with mid-range odds and still won. The house fading in the distance behind her surely proved that.
But it still pales in comparison to what I know others are going through, she decided. She didn't know what it was like to be in 12 or 11 or 8, and she was worried that everyone was starting to think too highly of her.
Gold has seen right through me. Why can't everyone else?
Her quiet ruminations brought her all the way to the front step of her mansion. Looking over her shoulder, she tried to see if Killian was home too, and yet she found no trace of him.
Just like old times, she thought bitterly.
Opening the door to her house, she took off her jacket and hung it up. Everything seemed too quiet for a moment before Henry came bounding down the lane. "Emma! Emma! Emma!" he called.
Forgetting her shoes and her jacket, she rushed right to him, "Hey, hey, what's going on?" she asked her brother worriedly, cupping his face in her hand to make sure he wasn't injured. "Why are you yelling? What's going on."
Henry jerked his head out of her hand and grabbed it, starting to tug on her hand ineffectively. "Emma, c'mon!" he told her, trying to get her to run with him. "You gotta help! You gotta go see what's happening!"
"What's happening?" Emma asked, jogging alongside Henry. "Kid, where's the fire? What's happening?"
"You gotta go to Neal's house right now!" Henry exclaimed worriedly. "A bunch of guys just showed up at his house! They started bothering Milah, saying that she hadn't paid her taxes and that they owed her money. And she didn't cuz taxes were due before you left so she told me to get you!"
"A bunch of guys?" Emma asked confusedly, starting to head over that way. "Did you recognize them?"
"They were Mistguards, but they weren't ours!"
"Son of a bitch!" Emma hissed. She had no doubt in her mind that this was connected to the tanks that she'd seen roll in earlier. A shooting pain went up her leg and she nearly doubled over. "Oh come on, not now," she hissed at her old injury from the Games. "C'mon, please not now?"
"Emma?" Henry asked worriedly, his hand coming to her back. "Are you okay? What's wrong?"
"Nothing, it's just my leg," Emma hissed, weakly trying to push herself up. "We have to go."
"Swan?" Killian asked worriedly, his hand at the small of her back. "Swan, is it your leg?"
"Not now!" Emma exclaimed. "We gotta go! There's trouble!" she insisted.
"You’ve no shoes or coat, love!” He declared.
“Then go grab them, we don’t have time!” Emma ordered.
Killian returned in record time and she quickly threw her shoes on. “Lead the way, love," he replied, helping her up. "Catch me up to speed as we go!"
So breathlessly, she repeated Henry's story to Killian and how she'd seen the new Mistguard tanks rolling in earlier in the day. "And I know that Milah paid her town taxes, she always pays them like two weeks before everyone else!"
"I believe you, Emma," Killian rasped. "We'll sort this out."
The four of them bounded into Neal and Milah's home. Milah was curled up in the corner of her kitchen, her hands weakly defending her face as the three four Mistguards stood around her in a circle.
"Oi!" Killian exclaimed indignantly, coming to pry one of the Mistguards away from Milah. "Step off the lady, mate, and we can talk about this like reasonable adults!"
The Mistguard socked Killian in the jaw as hard as he could. Killian sank to the floor cradling his jaw with a wince and Emma was immediately by his side. "Killian? As you okay?" she asked anxiously, her hands skimming across his cheek.
"Nothing's broken," Killian said, grimacing as he did so. "But it'll hurt to talk for awhile, I suppose." He tilted his head and nodded discretely at Emma. She moved out of the way and that allowed Killian to kick the Mistguard who had punched him in the back of the knee, sending the man sprawling to the ground.
"Get off of my mother!" Neal snarled and sprinted past Emma to all but tackle the Mistguards surrounding his mother. Neal writhed and thrashed as he landed a few good punches but it still didn't change the fact that it was a three to one fight. Two men held Neal up while another guard punched Neal relentlessly.
Emma stood, transfixed in her horror for just a moment, before a pained wheeze left Neal that inspired her into action.
"Stop!" she pleaded, going to grab the man's wrist, using all of her strength to keep him from punching Neal again. She was too worried that the other two would retaliate if she fought back. "You're going to kill him!" The Mistguard reeled back and slapped Emma so hard across the face that she crumpled to the ground.
"I'll kill you!" Neal spat, thrashing ferociously to try and escape once more.
"Emma!" Killian cried, draping her body with his own as a protective measure.
"Just what the hell is going on here?"
Emma wasn't sure if it was the ringing in her ears from the slap or if all had just suddenly gotten quiet as everyone turned their heads toward the figure at the door. Whale stood there, drink in hand as always, as he took in the scene. "Just who the hell are you?"
"We're transfers," the leader of the quartet snarled. "But that's none of your business."
"It's my business when you strike the last year's winners of the Hunger Games," Whale replied, stepping closer to the man, his head jerked up at a clear sign of challenge. "It's my business when these two have to speak to the press and you've bruised up their pretty little faces." Whale rolled up his sleeves. "And it's my business because now you've hurt my Tributes."
With a prompt swing backwards, Whale knocked out the leader of the Mistguard with a swift punch. The other two dropped Neal--though one kicked him for good measure when he was on the floor--as they approached Whale, batons raised at the ready.
"I don't think so," Whale told them lowly. His face hardened and for the first time, Emma saw the formidable winner of the last Quarter Quell. "What you're going to do is you're going to go to City Hall and double check this woman's records. Then when you found out that she promptly paid her taxes to the District and the Capitol two weeks before they were due, you and the other two idiots on the floor will immediately request for a transfer."
"Oh yeah?" the Mistguard asked, stepping toe to toe with Whale. "And what if we don't?"
"If you don't, I'm going to send an anonymous tip to Spindle Shutter-Needle, who has become my very good friend, about the recording of this incident that's inside your helmet," Whale snarled, tapping the side of the Mistguard's helmet. "That will show one of your superiors striking Emma Swan, the Capitol darling. I'm sure Spindle would love to hear Emma's recollection of this incident. Although, maybe Emma won't need to say a word. The footage should do the trick."
The Mistguards exchanged a nervous look before they grabbed their compatriots and ducked out of Milah's house. Whale looked them over, staggering a little bit. "Well you all look like crap. C'mon, let's get you back to the Victor's Alcove. All of you."
Neal curled up on the floor, wincing as he held his side. Milah came over to him, stroking his cheek. “I don’t think he can stand,” she said worriedly, her eyes filling with tears.
“Henry, go next door. Mr. Fitzsimmons should have a wheelbarrow big enough,” Emma ordered Henry immediately. The boy nodded and rushed off. “Milah, get all the blankets and pillows you can. If we cushion the ride, we can get it over there.”
“And who is pulling this wheelbarrow cuz I sure as hell ain’t doing it,” Whale replied into his drink.
“Then make yourself useful and go get some people who will help,” Emma replied tersely, pointing out the door. Whale raised his flask in her direction before stumbling off. She crawled over to Neal, using the sleeve of her shirt to clear the blood from his face. “Hey?” she whispered desperately. “Hey, you still with me over there?”
"Did I get him?" Neal rasped, letting out a low moan of pain. "T'other guy? Did I get him good?"
"He ran in fear," Emma promised tenderly. On shaky legs she stood up and dampened a towel to gingerly blot at Neal's face. "We're gonna take you back to the Victor's Alcove. If you're not here, they can't come after you."
"Emma, you don't have to do that," Milah started.
"Of course, I do," Emma said. And she didn't even think it was a question in her mind that she owed Milah and Neal quite a bit for taking Henry in while she was in the Games. "You looked after my family, and now I'm going to help look after yours."
Neal's hand weakly slid into hers. "You'll look after yourself too, won't you, Emma?" he rasped, his eyes flickering up to hers.
"Yeah, of course I will," Emma promised. With a weak nod, Neal let his eyes close. Emma just sat with him and dabbed at his wounds, waiting for Whale or Henry to return.
"Killian, are you all right?" she heard Milah asked. She looked over her shoulder to watch Neal's mom gently examine the bruise on Killian's cheek and she tried not to scowl because what did she have to scowl over?
"Aye, I'm all right," Killian replied, staying stock still. Emma could tell just by Killian's posture that he didn't know what to make of this. "I've got a well-packed medical supply at home. I'll be all right."
"Like hell you're staying there," Emma blurted out in spite of herself. If she could keep all of her people under one roof, she'd be far happier that way. She blushed when Killian arched an eyebrow at her. "I mean...could you stay with me and Henry tonight? Please?"
"For you, love?" he asked. "Anything."
"Good," Emma whispered, sighing with a further exhale of relief when Henry returned with Neal's neighbor, James Kirk. Kirk had a gang he liked to hang out with, and Emma was further relieved that Henry convinced them to come along too. Emma sat with Neal while Killian and Milah prepared the wagon. Whale had come back alone, but he was far too drunk to be of any use.
So, Emma's instructions to Whale were for him to sit in the back of the wagon to make sure that Neal didn't die. Once everything was prepared, all those who came to help gingerly lifted Neal as to not aggravate his ribs and laid him gently in the back of the wagon.
"Do you think you can make it the rest of the way home, Emma?" Killian murmured gently. She staggered a little bit and he caught her. "Easy, Swan. You got tagged pretty good there."
"So did you," she murmured worriedly, pressing in closer to him. He rested his head on top of hers and nuzzled it as if to reassure her.
"What? This?" he murmured, gently stroking her back. "Love, wasn't I worse off after I got through with Felix?"
She let out a weak giggle and hid her face in his chest for a moment. "Yeah. I just...I don't know."
He looked down at her appraisingly. Even if she couldn't see it, she could practically feel his reflective gaze on her and she could practically hear his mind whirring. "You think this was intentional," he started slowly.
Grimacing, she nodded. "Can't prove it but...feels a little too coincidental."
"It may not have been you they're after love," Killian pointed out, very discretely tilting his head toward Neal. "Anyone who has spent time in 7 knows Neal's temperament. Perhaps those who used to be stationed here decided to do something about it."
"That somehow makes me feel worse," Emma sighed, slipping her hand into Killian's. "C'mon. Let's just go home."
"As you wish, love," Killian promised, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. Then he grimaced. "Bloody hell, I can't wait to put some snow on my face."
"You're gonna be regretting those words pretty soon," Emma laughed weakly, not sure if her heart was really in the action.
"Ah, you'll see," Killian murmured, very curiously watching the look on her face. "Your friend...he'll be all right, you know."
"Do I?" Emma asked tiredly, resting her head against Killian's arm. "Sure doesn't feel like it." As they kept walking back to the Victor's Alcove, something strange was happening. The group ahead of her would look back at her and then whisper excitedly to one another.
They were too far apart for Emma to hear, but she still didn't like how they were looking at her. They seemed excited. Not in a predatory way, but in an anticipatory way and Emma had no idea why in the world they'd even look at her like that.
Once they arrived at the alcove, however, there was no time to think like that. Emma immediately had to bind Neal's ribs the way she'd learned to when training for the Games. Killian immediately fell into step beside her and the two didn't even have to look at each other in order to understand what the other wanted or needed. Henry did his best to be of assistance, but he stood awkwardly away. It broke Emma's heart to tell him to go outside and try to find some goldenrod if he could for the open wound.
With a hiss, she was once again reminded that she'd forgotten to ask Snow and David about the goldenrod concoction. That hardly mattered now and she resolved to ask them the next time they were in the Capitol for sure. She filed it in the back of her mind, not realizing she was most likely to forget it yet again.
The only person who was less helpful than Henry was Whale, who just opened and closed her cabinets looking for something else to drink. Apparently, water was not on his list of acceptable remedies. "Either drink the damn water or go home!" Emma hissed. "Or help Milah get set up in the guest room!"
Whale wandered off and Emma hoped that'd be enough for him to find the guest room.
"Emma! Look!" Henry said excitedly, lugging in a basket of medical supplies.
"Kid, did you raid the pharmacy?" Emma asked in disbelief as he set the basket on the table.
"This was just outside the alcove!" Henry exclaimed excitedly. "There wasn't a note but I think it's for us."
"Look, Emma," Neal rasped from the table. He was starting to come back to himself though if that was going to make things better or worse Emma couldn't entirely say. "We may have never been in a real fight in 7. But people are tired...and they're ready for change. And you started that change."
"Emma?" Whale asked lowly as he returned into the room. A dreamshade flower sat in glass cup that Emma recognized from the backroom office. "I found this when I was looking for the guest room..."
No!
Without another word, she rushed out the door as fast as she could. She didn't get far before her panic overwhelmed her and she stopped short, taking in big, heaving gasps.
I can't do this! she thought in utter dismay. Why are they looking to me? I have no idea what I'm doing!
She hunched over herself trying to draw that steady breath and failing every single time. She didn't know what to do or how to think. Everything was all consuming and unknowable. And the pressure of feeling like she had to save everyone was slowly starting to crush each breath she took.
I'm just someone who couldn't even save a little girl.
Behind her, she could hear the footprints in the snow, but the weight of the crunch and separations of the steps easily told her it was Killian. "Swan?" he encouraged gently. "Swan, I need you to breathe."
"No thanks," Emma rasped, clinging to the marble statue that was in the courtyard.
"Love?" Killian took another step closer. "Whatever you're seeing, whatever thought is running through your head...it's all right. We'll tackle it together."
She squeezed her eyes shut, wrapping her arms around herself as she stayed hunched over, desperately trying to get air. Killian's hand gently went to her back and his braced wrist want to her chest, trying to prop her up.
With a scream of frustration, she tore herself from his arms. "I can't do it!"
"Can't do what, Emma?" Killian asked. Her eyes still weren't open, but she could hear the hurt in his voice.
God, does he think I mean him? she thought, her heart aching for the boy standing across from her.
"I can't be their leader," she said in a small voice. "You heard what Neal said. I saw how those boys were looking and talking at me. I saw how they looked at me in 11. Everyone wants me to do...something. Fight against Gold? Start a revolution! Hell, even Gold expects it!" She took in another jagged breath, keeping her sobs at bay but only just barely. "And I can't do it...I'm the worst choice. No one should want me to lead them! I can't save any of them! I couldn't even save Imani!"
"Emma--"
"I'm a bad person!" she nearly shrieked at him. "I'm an awful person and no one can seem to see that! If they could see how awful I am, then they wouldn't choose me!"
She was less successful at containing her sob that time, and Killian's arms immediately wrapped around her. His body acted as a shock absorber as she cried into his shoulder.
"I know it's selfish of me," she wept. "But I didn't mean for this to happen! I just wanted to stay alive! I know I'm supposed to care about all of them, and I do, but I don't know how I'm supposed to save them and make it to tomorrow! I want to be safe! I want you to be safe! I want Neal to be safe! I want Henry to be safe!"
"And that's perfectly understandable, Emma," Killian said gently, still rubbing her back gently.
"So then why do I feel like it's me or them? Why does it feel like I can't save both? That I'm not supposed to save both?" she asked wildly, coughing as she tried to quiet her cries.
Blessedly, Killian didn't offer any meaningless platitudes. He just stood there, gently rubbing her back and encouraging her to breathe while she cried it all out of her system. When her breathing was fully evened out, he gently drew back to look her in the eye.
And if she was honest? She never would've expected what came out of his mouth next.
"What do you want to do?"
All the fight seemed to drain out of her body at once and she slumped against him. "I don't know," she said in a small voice. "I don't know what I want to do. It's so...it's so much bigger than you or me that I feel like I'm choking on it, Killian. It's on my mind constantly and I just...I can't..." She squeezed her eyes shut again. "I feel so alone."
"You're not alone," Killian reminded her softly, his hand running through her hair gently. "I'm here. And I know how it feels to lose faith. To feel like everything around you is so insurmountable that you're going to drown." He smiled sardonically, and Emma knew he was thinking about the corruption in 4. "And I'm not going anywhere until you send me away."
"Cherubs?" Whale asked tiredly. Both Emma and Killian whipped around but didn't move to separate from each other. "I know you're tired, but I gotta ask: have either of you really stopped to take stock of what's going on here?"
"No, cuz you won't tell us anything," Emma growled lowly. "We've found out a lot on our own and you just keep telling us later. I think we passed later, Whale!"
Whale let out a long, drawn out sigh as he ran his hand over his face. "You're probably right," he sighed softly, tilting his head toward the sky with his eyes closed for the briefest of moments. When he looked back at them again, his eyes were clear.
"Listen to me," he started very seriously. "You have two choices right now. One of those choices is an irreversible decision. The other is not." Emma and Killian looked nervously at one another but didn't dare interrupt Whale.
He started, "You can keep your head down. Do what the Capitol tells you. Smile, wave, the whole nine yards. Or..."
"Or?" Emma asked.
"You can fight," Whale said simply. "And there's no third option here. We passed Option 3 before you two were even born. And it sucks. Ultimately, it's your decision."
Emma thought of the way her mentor quietly intervened, and the way he seemed to know a lot more than he was telling. "So when did you decide to fight?" she asked, and it was hard to ignore the proud but sad look in his eyes when he made eye contact with her.
"When they gave me my first set of Tributes."
For a moment, the safety provided by keeping her head down was tempting. Gold would let her be, she wouldn't have to spend every waking moment worrying about her family and friends. She could just live as a Victor of the Hunger Games and be done with all the politics and strife.
And then she remembered Imani. And Abigail. She remembered what Pan told her at the Games, how she wouldn't be so lucky in the next Games. She remembered all the distraught faces in the crowd on the tour. She remembered the heartbreak in Midas's voice.
She remembered the man in the tree.
"Sign me up for the next war, then," Emma joked weakly, rubbing at her eyes. "As long as I don't have to lead it."
"Oh, cherub," Whale said sadly. "The war is already here."
Chapter 15
Notes:
Sorry for the wait, everyone. I've had these chapters written but the end of 2020 has just absolutely zapped any kind of energy from me. I hope this chapter is worth it! Hope you have a good New Year's Eve and a wonderful 2021.
Chapter Text
A few days had passed and Emma sent Neal and Milah home under the cover of night. Neal had recovered for the most part, though the doctor that came to see him the next day confirmed that Neal's ribs were indeed broken. Neal had tried to grimace off her hovering, playing it tough, but he'd also been most at ease when she was near. And while he wasn't openly hostile to Killian, he was certainly tense at times when Killian was helping his mother.
But Emma had noticed that the Mistguard's presence had rapidly multiplied since the day of the altercation with the quarter of Mistguards. The new Mistguards weren't doing anything, and according to Mayor Rulah, they were just monitoring the presence of the district in case of any threat towards the Victors. And they really did just stand there, posted like statues. They didn't engage with citizens, they didn't look at citizens, they just...stood there.
So for most, the arrival of the Mistguards had no impact on their daily lives and really had no influence over what they did in their day to day. The average citizens of District 7 lived on, laughing, playing and paid the new Mistguard no mind.
Except the older citizens of the town didn't believe anything good about the Mistguards because it hadn't been that way when Whale had won. In fact after the Victor's Tour, the District had been left alone.
So Emma didn't believe the Mistguards were there for a benevolent reason either.
Except...she noticed that they did not actively run the day to day dealings of their lives like they had been in Districts 12 and 11. So, she asked Whale, wondering if he would know anymore on the matter.
"Oh what? The Mistguard? Yeah, they won't take us over like 11 and 12 just yet."
"But how come?" Emma asked curiously. "Gold clearly suspects us of being up to something." Her frown deepened when she thought back to District 8 which was oddly bereft of Mistguards despite the fact that it was clear that they were in the throes of a revolt. "8 didn't have any either and it seems like they really needed it, more than they do."
"Well, it is possible that 8 has them now," Whale said, knocking back a long swig of whiskey. "But they won't bother us for now. We make too much money here for us to be actively restrained by the Mistguard. Most people will just go along with it anyway.'
"Jesus, Whale," Emma muttered, taking his flask out of his hand and taking a long swig herself.
Not wanting to stir the pot and worried that someone else would get hurt like Neal had if she showed up and inflamed things, Emma had things delivered to her front step, did not go out if she could help it, and mostly kept to herself within the Victor's Alcove. Well, she saw her mentor, her brother, and Killian.
The curfew had mostly ensured that she didn't see anyone anyhow. The Mistguard said the curfew was temporary, just while they adapted to the terrain and the lighting of the terrain. Most people seemed to take this at face value but Emma still was suspicious.
However, Emma still was nervous that the people of 7 even seeing her would inspire them to do things that would get themselves hurt by the Mistguard. She was familiar with the kind of acts people would do when they thought they had no options left. Morgarzea had taught her that. And she didn’t want any of her neighbors to feel that violent desperation that drove people like to their death.
If I’m not seen, people can speculate about what I’m doing and that should at least give them hope. I’ll stay in the Alcove and I’ll play it safe. And when the Mistguard go, we can go from there…
--
Keeping herself restrained to a very specific part of the district was driving her up the wall though. It only took about a month before she became entirely listless, all but bouncing off the walls. Her hands were shaking, her heart was racing almost all the time and so she had enlisted Killian to come keep her company.
Whale had declined when they invited him. He said he'd exhausted his limit when he was on the tour and that they could come get him when they announced the Quarter Quell.
So Killian would come over sometimes to try and soothe her when he could. It was on such a day, when the tremors in her hand had been far too much, when Killian asked her, "Love? Do you want to do something together?"
"Do something?" Emma asked, a strange lilt to her voice. She couldn't figure out what exactly he meant by that when he gave her such a sweet and tender smile like that. "What do you mean...something?"
"Come over to my house where we can't be disturbed," Killian murmured, offering his hand to hers. She took his hand without any reservations, and he led her across the way to his house. He opened the door to his home, and Emma was surprised to find that his house was the same as hers. The only different was that there were a few nautical knickknacks that decorated the walls.
She wasn't sure why she expected the houses to be so vastly different, but she had been. Still, it was nice to be let into Killian's world like this. "So…what exactly are we doing here that we couldn't do at my house?" she teased weakly. "You know I've got all the same amenities in my house that you've got, babe."
"Ah, but so you think, love," Killian chuckled, leading her back in the direction toward where her back office would have been. "I've taken up painting since we've returned home from the Games," he explained to her. "Archie suggested that I take up something constructive that I can do...an action I can take when it gets to be too much. So, I took out all the furniture, ordered some canvases and stands and paints...and here we are." He paused in front of the closed door to his studio.
He scratched nervously behind his ear as he blushed. "I don't want you to expect anything fantastic," he warned her that shy smile still on his face. "I've only just started painting so...I don't think that they're any good, love."
"I'm sure that they're fine," Emma shrugged. "And if it makes you feel better, I'm sure that I'm not anything good at this either. So, I'm sure whatever you got to show me will be great." He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it gently before they opened the door.
Emma's breath nearly left her body when she stepped into the studios. Several paintings decorated the wall of the ship, of Liam, and of the arena. But the one illuminated by sunlight was a picture of her, laughing.
"Oh blast! I should've taken that one down!" Killian cursed and went to go take her picture down, but her hand reached out to grab him. Her throat too closed to speak, she just closed her head when he looked at her. He ducked his head for a moment before picking it back up. "You really like it, love?" he asked softly, holding her hands gently as they stood there.
"It's perfect," Emma murmured thickly, stepping closer to him to press her forehead to his. They stood there for a moment in his studio, basking in the sunlight as they held each other's hands. "Thanks for showing me."
Killian's eyes brightened and he pulled back slightly. "But I'm not here to just show you, love!" he exclaimed excitedly. "We're here to paint!"
"But I don't know how to paint?" Emma asked, completely befuddled. Killian guided her to a chair in front of a blank canvas and handed her a palette with any color she could've possibly wanted or needed. "Seriously, Killian! I don't know what I'm doing!"
"You don't have to know what you're doing," Killian responded, sitting down at a canvas next to her. "You just paint whatever you feel is right to paint."
"Well what are you working on?" Emma asked quietly, her eyes roaming over the picture of half shaped forms.
"There was a moment at the party," Killian replied, looking at his palette contemplatively. "Where David and Snow were dancing and they just seemed so content with one another. Like it was their engagement party and not hours." He laughed and picked a gold color to serve as the color of the light fixtures.
"Do you think we'll be as happy as them?" Emma asked, not looking at him but at her own palette.
"We don't need to be as happy as them," Killian said confidently. "We'll be however happy we need to be." He looked over at her appraisingly for a moment. "But I don't want you to worry about that now. For now, just focus on your painting. And we don't have to talk just yet. We can talk when we're finished."
"Okay..." Emma said softly. For a moment, she just sat there with her thoughts, which almost invariably led to the Mistguard. From Mistguard it went to 12, and then to 11, and then...
Imani.
Ever since her return home, the girl had hardly left her mind. Not a day had gone by where she didn’t think about Imani, or have a flashback to that awful, awful moment when Hans…
And if it wasn’t a flashback about Imani, it was an overwhelming sense of hypervigilance like she was back in the Games, like any enemy could spring out of anywhere at any given time and there was nothing she could do about it. She felt trapped in her own home, in her own life and while Killian had blessedly thrown her a lifeline to try and get her out of her head, it still didn’t change the fact that the only thing on her mind was the Games.
And there was a moment where she considered painting the girl as she was last left, and her fingers hovered over the brown for a moment. But as soon as she did, her eyes filled with tears and she yanked her hand away from the color as if it had burnt her.
But there was an equally familiar color on her palette as well. Her fingers danced over the yellow that she knew she had seen before. And so, she began to stroke her paintbrush over the canvas, not saying anything. The tears welled in her eyes but she let them fall.
Killian said nothing, but shifted closer to her as if to offer himself as a protector if she felt that she needed it. She considered it for a moment, but then with a renewed vigor, she threw herself in her painting, trying so desperately to capture the petals of the flower that had surrounded Imani's body. The darkened centers of the flowers, to the extension of the petals, it all was so clear in her mind as if she had seen a chrysanthemum the day before.
But she didn't need to see it in person again. She'd seen that flower in her mind every month since the day that Imani was killed. She was so thankful no one had given her any since she'd won, because even the painting was enough to fill her with both grief and affection for her fallen friend.
"You don't have to paint the arena, you know," Killian murmured softly, leaning over to gently kiss her head. She leaned into his touch and closed her eyes with a little sniffle. He twined their hands together and gently tugged him closer to her. She placed her head on his shoulder and settled in with a shaky sob. "It's okay. You don't have to think about the Games here."
"But I do," she croaked out wearily. "It's all I can think about all the time and I just..." She sniffled, swiping at her eyes with her free hand.
"Just let it go here," he encouraged gently into her ear.
"That's just the thing, I can't!" she insisted, her breath hitching. "It's always there, it's always on my mind. And this stuff with the Mistguards and Gold...it just makes it worse."
"Have you had a flashback since we've been home?" Killian asked worriedly. He started to break contact to give her space but she determinedly curled in closer. It was easier to ground herself when he was near. He smiled a little bit and kissed the top of her head. "It's okay if you have," he murmured gently. "I get them too. Mostly at night when I'm alone."
"They were easier to bare when we were together on the train," Emma muttered sadly, keeping herself close to him. "When it was just us and I didn't have to worry about anything that wasn't us and Henry...and now...and now we're back and this thing with the Mistguard happened--"
"And suddenly you feel the weight of the world back on your shoulders," Killian murmured and she nodded. His hand methodically rubbed her back and he was quiet for a moment. "I'm not sure if this is any consolation, love, but I feel it too. Especially after that altercation with the Mistguard. And I...the Games are everywhere no matter what I do to block them out. Everything reminds me of them." He gently placed his wrist in her hands and she held on gently. "If it's not nightmares, it's insomnia, if I'm not angry, I'm terrified..."
"I thought it was supposed to be better after the Tour," Emma complained. "I thought...I don't know, I just thought once the tour was over then it would be fine and we would be fine."
"I know," Killian said softly. "I thought the same thing. I thought we'd be able to just go back to our lives and they'd only trot us out once a year like they did with Whale..." He smiled thinly. "Seems we're outliers in more than just one way."
She let out a weak laugh and settled in closer to him, letting her eyes flutter shut. "Glad I'm sharing this with you...after what happened, I feel like I can't go anywhere near Neal and Henry...he doesn't get it and I don't think I'd ever want him to get it."
Killian nodded in understanding, his hand still rhythmically skimming her back. She nearly fell asleep in his arms like that before he asked quietly, "Do you love him?" She pulled back to give him an incredulous look, and he clarified, even though she knew who he was talking about perfectly well, "Neal, I mean."
"I'm marrying you," Emma told him. "And I have absolutely no regrets about it. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to wake up with you every morning and I want to build a life with you that the world is going to be like stupidly overinvested in."
"You didn't answer the question," he replied, but there was a teasing lilt to his voice rather than a sad or scared one.
"Well, just so you know where things stand...the person that I love the most is Henry," she said flatly.
"I would expect no less," Killian said honestly.
"Good," she retorted. With a sigh, she added, "I...I don't know. Neal is my oldest friend. Maybe there's some kind of love for him in there. But...I also know that I love you. I don't know how or what it means or how to explain it but I do. And I think it's nice we have the rest of our lives to figure out what that means."
"Unless another monster swoops in like Walsh and kills me," Killian joked, but the joke had her jackknifing up straight in his arms.
"Don't joke like that," she begged. "Not after all we've been through."
He took her hand and gently placed it over his chest. She closed her eyes and breathed slowly as she felt the beat of his heart under her palm. "You're right, love," he murmured softly, moving a little bit closer to her. "It was poor form to joke like that, and I am sorry that I did it." He brushed her hair away from her face gently. "I'm here, Swan. And I'm not going anywhere until you send me away."
"Good," Emma mumbled softly, giving him a small grin. His thumb came to brush across her cheek and she kissed the tip of his thumb gently. The two sat there for a little while longer until a knock at Killian's door came. She looked at Killian whose brow was furrowed in confusion. "I guess you weren't expecting any visitors?" Emma asked, her voice taking an edge.
"No," Killian replied. He got up to a nearby supply closet and pulled out one of the old prototypes for his hook and a dagger, which he handed to her. "I know it's not your sword," he said apologetically. "But unfortunately it's all I have at the moment."
"It'll do," Emma replied, taking the dagger and stashing it in the inside pocket of her jacket.
"Mr. Jones? Ms. Swan?" a voice they did not recognize, called. "Are you home?"
"All media requests go through our Ambassador," Killian answered.
"We're not the media," was the answer. "We're representatives of President Gold."
Emma and Killian both looked at each other again and very cautiously, Killian opened the door.
Emma recognized Hades from the engagement party, but there were two people she did not recognize. "Who are you?" she asked, wrapping her arm protectively around Killian's waist. She tried to keep the challenge out of her tone, but she felt like their visit couldn't signify anything good.
"Well," the man said pleasantly. "My name is Hades, and these are Stylists from Districts 1 and 2: Ribbon and Wanda."
"We're so very excited to work with you!" one of them chirped. Emma had no way of knowing which one was whom if she was perfectly honest. "We can't wait to see the final product!"
"The final product of what?" Emma asked, looking back at Killian apprehensively, of course, given these strangers in their presence and the mention of Gold.
"Why, your wedding dress, of course! President Gold--as soon as he heard you were getting engaged--insisted that we be a part of the project."
"But Merlin is designing my wedding dress," Emma said hesitantly.
"We just think we can offer you a hire caliber of style that Merlin can produce," the other stylist said, and Emma did not care for the tone with which she said that.
"Well, I think it can't hurt to shop around, love," Killian said though his pleasantry was just about as fake as Emma would've wanted it to be. Their stylist was Merlin, and she wasn't sure what Gold was playing at by bringing in a new stylist right now, Emma did not enjoy that. "What do you say? Shall we look at some wedding dresses?"
"And we have to do this right now because?" Emma asked, fidgeting nervously. They'd just gotten engaged, that didn't mean they had set a wedding date just yet.
"President Gold just thinks you'll want to be married posthaste," the first stylist chirped though Emma had no idea why Gold would think they wanted to get married right away. The whole thing set Emma's teeth on edge.
"We're young and in love, why wouldn't we be?" Killian asked wryly, but the envoys from the Capitol seemed to take him at his earnest word. Emma snorted, shaking her head and gave a quick little eyeroll.
"Well if President Gold has paid the expense for you to be here then I might as well see what you brought," Emma sighed, tossing her head back. "You did come all this way, after all."
"Aye, they did," Killian said warmly, kissing her temple. "Now, would you like me to be a part of this gown selection process or not."
"I..." Emma started, a delighted smile coming to her face. Of course he was going to ask. Of course even in this bizarre world that was her life he still found a way to give her a choice. "I know that we didn't have the most conventional start, and we've never been the most conventional couple," she admitted shyly, hating that she had to do this in front of three strangers. "But...I want to surprise you on our wedding day with my choice. Is that okay?"
"Your heart's desire," Killian murmured. "That's all I want you to have."
"Oh, she'll be the most beautiful bride!" In her whole life, Emma thought she'd never be so grateful to hear Tink's voice. "I'm so sorry we're late, my girl, we were just distracted by some of your charming compatriots from town!" Beside her were Tatiana and Mab, and Emma let out a delighted sigh of relief.
They may not have been Merlin, but the three of them would at least know what Emma was all about.
--
"Am I missing something here?" Emma protested to Tink as Wanda zipped her up in the third dress of the day. "Or do I just not understand fashion?" The dress was very Avant Garde, with its swooping arches that looked like talons. And Emma was sure it was a beautiful wedding dress for someone, but this was not her.
Even Tink was annoyed by what the Capitol had brought with them. "Really, Hades?" Tink huffed as she leafed through the sample catalog. "You brought an entire trunk show for our Emma but didn't consider consulting with the client. Why, Gold's just waisted his money at this point! He would've been better off leaving Merlin alone!"
"You try telling Gold that," Hades replied, taking a sip of rum. "I don't see why the first dress didn’t work; it was a very pretty dress."
"She looked like she was being slowly choked by my mother's tablecloth," Tink told him, exasperated. "It's a classic neckline, and the lace was beautiful, of course, but Emma looked like it was suffocating her. That's not Emma at all."
Well thank god for Tink, Emma thought, wincing as Wanda pricked her again. "I don't know why we're bothering with this one either, I hate this one too! I look like a wind tunnel!"
"Out of twenty-seven dresses, you've only agreed to try on three!" Ribbon proclaimed.
"Yes, and I hate them slightly less than I hated the other twenty-four," Emma muttered to herself, regretting that she'd sent Killian away. Taking a deep breath and reminding herself to calm down, she smiled at the two designers, "They are beautiful dresses to look at. And I'm sure a bride in the Capitol or Districts 1 or 2 would be...the luckiest to wear them. But these are not my style or for me. I feel and look out of place in them, don't you agree? I'm just an average girl from a mid-tier district. Shouldn't my dress reflect that?"
She saw Tink's nod of approval out of the corner of her eye, and her change in tone must've done something because even Wanda and Ribbon were clucking in agreement. Of course, they'd asked her which of the three she liked the best so they could modify it and the truth was none of them.
"Don't worry, ladies, I have sketches," Merlin announced, waltzing into her kitchen. She sighed in relief, partly because he was there and partly because he’d saved her from having to give an answer. Henry gave him a high-five and Emma couldn't help the true smile that blossomed on her face.
Oh thank god, it's someone I trust to clothe me, she thought wryly, but tried her very hardest not to say it out loud since Wanda and Ribbon were trying to do their best to dress her up for her wedding.
Merlin pursed his lips. "Why is she in a mermaid style? No, no, no, not at all." he asked himself, and Emma huffed a laugh through her nose.
"She didn't like the ballgown--" Hades started.
"That ballgown?” He pointed at the one draped over her couch. The neckline is too high," Merlin said immediately. "Anyone who has ever worked with Emma Swan knows that she hates to be stifled. No sleeves, no neckline, and a veil only if it's covering just her face to her chin."
Emma shrugged. "What can I say? The man knows me."
"Come off the pedestal and get changed so I can show you what I've come up with," Merlin laughed, and Emma had never been more eager to rush out of the room to change.
When she returned, Merlin was drinking tea with Henry and showing him the design. "I really like this one, Emma!" Henry told her, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "It's very pretty!"
"Is that the only thing you like about it, kid?" she teased, sitting beside him.
"I'm eleven. What would I know about wedding dresses?" Henry asked, wrinkling his nose a little bit and she laughed, tugging him close.
"Once again, Merlin has wowed us all with his talent!" Wanda said brightly, though Ribbon scowled behind her a little bit. "It really is something, Emma."
Truthfully, there was really only one other person's reaction she needed to see besides Merlin and Henry's to know that the dress was going to be worth trying on. She looked over to Tink, and sure enough, her Capitol Ambassador was full on bawling.
"Oh, Emma!" Tink wept. "You're going to be the most beautiful bride!"
"All right, Merlin," she said with a smile. "Let's see this dress."
And as she started going over the design the television slowly crackled to life of its own volition and Misthaven's theme began to play. Emma's breath caught in her chest as President Gold stepped in front of his press podium.
"Good evening," President Gold began his address. "It is at this illustrious time that we find ourselves at the precipice of a new Hunger Games. Now, more than ever, it is time for our country to remind itself of its history, of its traditions. And so, our 75th Hunger Games and our 3rd Quarter Quell will do just that. There are those, who seem to think they are above the rules and traditions of our fair land."
"As you know, every twenty-five years, we have our Quarter Quell. Our Quarter Quell is a special edition of the Hunger Games, with a new and surprising twist, to remind us of how uncertain the Dark Times were. For those who remember, the 2nd Quarter Quell was required to be finished in 50 hours. The 1st had double the participants."
"These Quarter Quells are meant to replicate the harshness of the Dark Times, and the terror of the war that brought us to the governmental system that we eventually found ourselves in. And so to remind you all that at any moment our lives of comfort and safety can be stripped from us, if the wrong people were to be making the decisions...the twist for this year's Quarter Quell will be that only previous Hunger Games winners will be eligible for the Tribute pool."
"Fuck me," Emma hissed.
Chapter 16
Notes:
Hello! I'm back! I'm sorry I haven't really updated this fic lately (Despite being ahead in my chapters from NaNoWriMo). I just haven't really had the confidence to work on it and also if I finish this fic it means I have to start planning the final part (which I admittedly haven't done yet). Not that it matters because I'M still not at the Games in my doc...I am almost there though. And you guys aren't even remotely ready for what's coming (although neither am I). One day...one day I'll finish. It took five years to finish Part I, it's a miracle we're mostly done after a year for Part II.
Anyway, enjoy this chapter!
Chapter Text
Over her shoulder, she felt Hades’s malicious smirk and it caused the hairs on the back of her neck to stand up. Of course Gold sent them today! He knew he was going to be making the announcement that she’d be back in the Games! Every movement had been on purpose!
And the Mistguard, they weren’t there watching the other citizens of the town! They were watching to make sure she and Killian didn’t try to bolt or that the other members of 7 didn’t try to hide them.
“I need some air,” Emma gasped, rushing past Merlin, Tink and Henry who all tried to call her back. “I’m just going to the gate, I’ll be right back!” The words felt like cotton in her mouth as she choked them out but she just needed a minute to breathe.
As fast as she could, she sprinted to the metal gates of the entrance to the Alcove and she clung to them for dear life, gasping and panting.
Son of a bitch, she thought, clinging so hard to the bars that her knuckles turned white.
Not only did she have to go to the arena, the place that had haunted her waking and spelling moments, but now she was expected to kill beloved and trusted allies of Whale. Capitol darlings. Parents. Friends.
And the worst part of it all? She was going to have to watch Killian or Whale die.
There was no way that the Capitol was going to let two victors win again. They’d made that mistake once, and it had caused them all this trouble…
And there was no way out of it. Whale was District’s 7’s only living winner besides her and Killian. There had been a young woman before Emma was born but she’d been killed in an unfortunate accident involving a truck carrying some logs. And Whale’s mentors had been winners before his Quarter Quell and were no longer alive.
And Killian…she knew Killian would sacrifice his life for hers in a second. He’d almost done it before in their first Games and Emma was sure he’d do it again under his belief that her life somehow held more value than his.
And she just couldn’t let him destroy himself.
Taking a deep breath, she rushed off to Whale’s house. She couldn’t help but repress the shiver that went down her spine. She had no idea how her mentor was going to take this and knowing what she was going to ask him seemed almost selfish.
But still, she had to ask him, just to give Killian his best chance.
“Whale?” she called, swinging his door open. “Whale, I gotta ask you something?”
He sat at his dining room table, staring blankly at the wall. His television flickered but he wasn’t paying attention to it. Her heart clenched as she took him in and she almost changed her mind, figuring she’d come back later.
“Cherub?” His voice was raspy, as if he’d been screaming or shouting because what else was there to do. He gave her a sardonic smirk. “Didja do the math, cherub? Figure out how this is all gonna shake down?” He shook his head and took an absentminded smirk. “’bout time. Killian was here twenty minutes ago.”
“Well I’m not good like, Killian now am I?” Emma asked, sitting across from him.
“Why do I get the feeling that I’m really gonna hate what you’re about to ask me?” Whale grumbled.
“Because I’m gonna ask you to volunteer for Killian,” Emma said simply, trying to keep her voice even as she tried to negotiate with Whale. She had no idea whether or not he’d listen. He had no reason to. And if that was the case, they’d be at odds with each other, and odds would surely no longer be out of their favor…
“I’ll do it,” Whale said quietly. Her eyes widened and he added with a bitter laugh, “You think he wasn’t over here, begging to do anything to save your life?”
“I know he did,” Emma sighed, slumping in her seat a little bit. “That’s why he has to stay out of it. He’s so…he’s so good and I don’t want this to ruin him.”
“You don’t think losing you would ruin him?” Whale asked, looking at her skeptically. “You don’t think that watching you die won’t destroy him?” When Emma didn’t answer, Whale sighed, “You think about the other people you’re gonna have to go up against yet?”
The quaver in her mentor’s voice squeezed her heart and she sighed, shaking her head. “No…not yet.”
“Well…I have. Pretty much since Gold announced ours fates,” Whale slurred, lifting his glass and some liquor sloshed onto the table. “The best damn people I’ve ever known in my whole life…no wonder Gold wants to kill us all.” His eyes filled with tears and he put the glass on the table. “They were the only friends I’d ever had.”
“Are they?” Emma asked softly, looking over at her mentor, her voice wavering now. “You told me…you told me when I won that Victors protect each other. Is that still true?” She rubbed her arms nervously, wondering how the people they’d met on the Victor’s tour would treat them now.
“I don’t know,” Whale replied, his voice completely shattered.
Emma got up and immediately wrapped her arms around her mentor, squeezing her eyes shut as she rested her head against him. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, squeezing him as tight as she could. “I’m so sorry, Whale.”
She gave him his privacy as he let out a sob. She only squeezed him tighter and squeezed her eyes shut to keep her own tears at bay. She’d done so much crying when she’d painted the chrysanthemum that she didn’t want to cry now, but her mentor’s grief was palpable.
“You know,” Whale told her hoarsely. “For as bad as you think you are? There are a hell of a lot of people out there who are worse than you.” She took that as the sign that he was ready to be let go and she sat down beside him. He let out a little sardonic laugh, mostly to himself. “I’m not surprised though,” he murmured. “You get that from your parents. Both of them. They’re the nicest damn people I’ve ever met.”
“I didn’t realize you knew them,” Emma said softly, suddenly wishing more than anything that they were alive and with her.
Whale didn’t look at her when he talked, but his eyes glazed over as seemingly with fond memories, “Your mother…the kindest person in the world. The kind of person that birds would flock to, and children just trusted instinctively.” Emma knew this about her mother, but to hear it from someone else’s perspective was like meeting them all over again. Whale laughed again when he added, “And your father? Couldn’t wait to be a dad. It excited him more than anything on this goddamn Earth.”
Emma’s eyes got very misty, particularly when her mentor turned to her and looked her directly in the eye. “And they loved you more than you could ever possibly know. So, don’t you dare give up, okay, cherub? You gotta fight for them, fight for Henry…fight for whoever you gotta to make it back here in one peace.”
“I don’t know that lightning will strike twice, Whale,” Emma said shakily, looking down at the table. “The odds are really not in my favor this time…”
“Listen to me, cherub,” Whale said seriously, and it automatically brought her head back up. “You told me that you were ready for the next fight, that you were there for the next battle. It’s not the battle you thought it was gonna be, hell, it’s not the battle I wanted for you either. But it’s goddamn here, and you can either choose to fight or you can choose to lay down and die. We’ve got two weeks before the Reaping. So you decide right now whether or not you’re gonna fight or you’re gonna lay down and die. Now I sure as hell hope you decide to fight but I’m not making that choice for you, Emma. Okay?”
“Okay…” Emma whispered with a nod. Brushing her eyes, she stood up. “I, um, I need to go back to Henry. Don’t…don’t drink yourself to death, okay?” she asked. “I saw you knock out that Mistguard. We’re really gonna need you, Whale.”
A fond smile crossed Whale’s face and he poured the rest of his glass down the sink. “Night, cherub.”
“Night,” she whispered softly, getting up and heading back to her own house.
Emma sincerely hoped that the swaths of people were out of her home because she was simply not in the mood to deal with any of them. Thankfully, they’d had the sense to clear out (or perhaps Merlin or Tink cleared them out) and it was just Henry and Killian sitting at the kitchen table. Killian was murmuring gently to Henry, nudging a cup toward him.
Henry looked over his shoulder miserably out the window and then sighed, slumping against the table.
And Emma’s heart broke for Henry too. He’d lost so much despite being almost twelve years old, and he had just as much to lose in these games as she did. With a sigh, she opened the door and called to them, “Hey, I’m back.”
“I told you she’d be back, lad. She just needed a minute to clear her head,” Killian murmured. “Now will you drink some water?” Their eyes met over Henry’s and she did her best to ask him with a small smile and a shrug of her shoulder if he was okay. With an equally sad smile and a shake of his head, it gave her all the answer she needed.
She sat beside him and gently took his hand in her own, giving it a squeeze. “Is anybody hungry?” she asked them both. “Does anyone want dinner? I can make soup.”
“I think it would be nice if we all made it together, don’t you think?” Killian agreed.
Henry sat up so abruptly that it knocked his cup to the floor. It shattered on impact but none of them seemed to notice “Why are you two acting so normally?” he asked, his voice rising with disbelief. “None of this is normal! This…this sucks! You already went there and now you have to go back!” His hands clenched into fists. “I hate this! You came back and it messed you guys up a little but you were starting to feel okay again and now you have to go back! This sucks!”
“Henry…” Emma got up and went to the other side of the table, hugging him tightly. He burrowed himself against her and she cupped the back of his head. “I know it sucks,” she said softly, and she placed a kiss into his hair. “I know that this isn’t what we thought was gonna happen…” She pulled him a little closer to her to try and combat the lump in her throat. “But just know that Killian and I are gonna fight as hard we can. We are gonna fight as hard as we can so that we can come back.”
She met Killian’s eyes again and the love and pride in his eyes was too much for her to handle without blushing a little. She gently extended her arm to Killian so she could pull him into their little family cuddle. “I love you so much,” she told both of them.
“Love you too,” Henry mumbled softly against her shirt.
Killian merely dipped his forehead to hers, and Emma closed her eyes, just taking them both in while she still could.
--
“Well, the beauty of knowing that you’re going back into the Games just means you get to train a little bit more,” Whale said, looking around the hollow they’d cleared for themselves. That had been the first few days of training, where they’d cleared trees and debris to make themselves a viable training space. “And honestly, it’s a privilege no one else gets to have. Consider yourselves honored.”
“I’m honored the way I imagine a piece of meat feels before being served on a platter to Gold,” Emma muttered, and Killian laughed through his nose. Whale didn’t laugh, but merely grabbed a large branch and swiped it at Emma. It hit her in the back of the leg and she went tumbling to the ground. “Hey!” she exclaimed angrily, brushing dead leaves off her pants. “What was that for?”
“Lesson 1,” Whale declared. “Use anything and everything to your advantage.” He raised his eyebrows at Killian and made a little beckoning sign with his hand. With a bemused look at Emma, Killian charged toward Whale with his hook raised.
Whale took the same branch, raised it against the inner curve of Killian’s hook. With a pull toward him, Killian’s hook went flying off into the dirt. When Killian staggered back, Whale surged forward with the stick and forcefully poked it into Killian’s chest, sending him sprawling into the dirt.
“Lesson 2,” Whale announced. “Always assume your enemy has a better weapon than you even if it doesn’t seem like it. These people have spent years training others for different Games and have learned to adapt on a dime. This will be like fighting an entire arena full of Careers, except the sponsors gifts will be even more bananas than you possibly can imagine. And you two are at the biggest disadvantage because you’re the newest.”
Emma rolled over and grabbed Killian’s hook, tossing it back to him. While Killian attached his brace, Emma braced herself against Whale’s attacks. Then spinning out, she let Killian take her place. This time, Killian looped the inner curve of his hook against the top of the branch and used all of his strength to dislodge the weapon out of Whale’s hand.
When the branch was gone, Emma ducked back in and drove her shoulder against Whale’s solar plexus, driving Whale to the ground. He hit the ground with a loud thud and didn’t move for a moment, causing Emma’s heart to clench. “Whale?” she asked nervously, standing over her mentor.
Whale sprung up and headbutted her in the stomach, sending her back to the ground. When she was aware of herself, not only was the branch against her chest but Killian was sprawled out on the ground next to her. “Lesson 3,” he panted. “Fight’s not over until your enemy is dead.”
“We’re dead,” Killian groaned, tossing his head back into the dirt. “Does that mean the fight can stop now?”
He put the stick down and helped them both back up. Emma’s hand went to Killian’s shoulder to steady him, and he quickly looked her over to make sure that she wasn’t hurt too badly.
“That was a good moment where you swapped in and out,” Whale said, watching them quietly for a moment. “Use that to your advantage if you end up in the arena together.”
“Won’t the others be expecting us to team up?” Killian asked. “And won’t they try to separate us?”
“They might,” Whale said with a shrug. “But your strategy is that you will not let hell or high water separate you two. And honestly? You didn’t get to fight together that often during the first Games. I’m not even sure when the hell you two had time to learn to move in sync like that.” Emma and Killian exchanged a pleased grin, even though they were both still catching their breaths. “I don’t think anyone is gonna be prepared for you two.”
“Forget us! Whale, how the hell can you fight like that?” Emma gasped, wiping sweat away from her forehead. “You barely look like you can stand most days, how the hell can you knock us flat on our asses?” There was a vivacious and mischievous gleam in his eyes that Emma hadn’t seen in a long while and she couldn’t help but smile.
“You’re not the only one who thrives off being underestimated,” Whale chuckled. “C’mon, cherub. You and I need to practice fighting side by side in case it’s us going into the arena.”
“We’d team up?” Emma asked, a surprised and delighted grin on her face. She bounced excitedly on her heels as she came over to her mentor’s side. “You and me?”
“Of course, Emma,” Whale replied, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he picked up his branch again. “Who else is gonna be my bodyguard through this thing?”
--
Battered and bruised, Whale, Emma and Killian sat down in Whale’s living room with a well-cooked meal all around them. Henry didn’t mind at all when they asked him to serve dinner if he could. If anything, he was absolutely thrilled that he was going to be part of the training process.
“Can I stay for the videos of the Hunger Games?” Henry pleaded. “Please?”
“Sure, kid, if it’s not gonna give you nightmares,” Whale responded, taking the first sip of water Emma had seen him take in weeks. “We’ll mainly be watching videos of Districts where the winners are few and far between. It’s pretty obvious who the Tributes from 12 and 11 are gonna be…”
“They are?” Emma asked, uneasiness creeping into her voice.
“In the last 60 years of the Hunger Games, there are 3 districts who only have two living Victors: 11, 12…” Whale trailed off, his eyes suddenly downcast and he refused to pick up his head again.
“And 10,” Emma realized with a sad and horrified little catch in her voice. Her eyes filled with tears as she tried to reconcile that Snow and David would probably die in the Games and she’d never see them again. “I don’t…I don’t understand, where are their mentors?” she sniffled.
“Lower tier districts don’t have a shot in hell of winning, you know that,” Whale said brusquely, thought it was obvious to Emma that he was trying not to feel the imminent loss of Snow and David as well. “Only reason 9 got out of that figure was when that kid August won two years ago.”
“But Snow and David had to have mentors when they won. Where are their mentors? Why can’t they go?” Emma sniffled childishly.
“The Victor’s game is a young one, cherub,” Whale replied darkly, not looking up from the floor. “You already know what a bitch it is to cope with the Games. A lot of people turn to a lot of vices that takes away the ability to live. And others…just can’t cope with it.” Whale closed his eyes and tilted his head back. “That being said, the oldest living Victor is Granny Lucas from District 6. She’s 85. She was in the 5th Hunger Games.”
“Did you just say the 5th Hunger Games?” Killian asked, his breath leaving him when he looked at Whale. “Bloody hell, now that’s not even fair…” Then he paused, digesting this information. “Lucas…Lucas like Ruby? Is she Ruby’s grandmother?”
“Yep,” Whale replied, popping the ‘p’ sound. “And not only did Ruby get chosen for the Games, but so did Ruby’s mother, and she also won. That was…jeez, that was like thirty years ago at this point. She won a few years before I did. Nice lady…”
“What happened to Ruby’s mom?” Killian asked hesitantly.
Whale deliberately ignored this question for now and popped on the tv. “C’mon, let’s watch.”
It was hard to watch the footage of the old games with Whale’s sobs underscoring every moment of it. Without a word, Killian and Emma sat on either side of their mentor, doing their best to keep his spirits up and desperate to show him that he wasn’t alone in this fight.
--
Emma wished she could’ve said she was nervous the day of the reaping. She wished she could’ve said that she was angry or upset. But truth be told, she was completely numb to the notion that once again, she’d have to go back to the Hunger Games.
She hadn’t gotten the chance to talk to Killian about it—not with Whale trying to kick their asses every waking moment and being too exhausted for any kind of conversation at night—but she hoped she’d get a chance to say good-bye.
She wished it because the alternative was so much worse.
“Emma?” Henry asked softly, looking up at her. His eyes were red-rimmed and his voice was scratchy but steady. “Are you going to wear Mom’s pin? The swansong pin?”
She’d nearly forgotten about the pin that felt like it started it all—though looking back she couldn’t remember if anyone had actually pointed out the pin during her first Games—and decided to fix it to the front of her dress with a defiant scowl.
She still didn’t think she wanted to be a symbol for anyone. But damn it if she wasn’t going to stick it to Gold one last time before she went. “You ready?” Emma asked, looking down at Henry with a fond smile on her face.
“Almost,” Henry replied, and he all but launched himself into her arms. Emma squeezed him as tightly as she could, hating to admit o herself that this really could be one of the last times she held him close like this. “I love you, Emma.”
“Love you too, kid,” she whispered into his hair. “I love you more than anything or anyone on this Earth.”
“Even Killian?” he asked, his voice muffled by her shirt.
“Even Killian,” she promised, letting a few tears fall into his hair.
“Good.” Henry let out a wet laugh and nuzzled in closer. Emma knew they had to go, but she wanted to stay in this moment with her little brother just one moment longer. He wasn’t so small as he was the first time they did this, and parts of him that still seemed to hold weight were thinning out into sharps and angles.
But no matter what, he was still her Henry.
Emma took a deep breath and held her shoulders back, her head high. She cupped Henry’s cheek in her hand one last time before she pulled back, her smile a little watery. “Let’s go,” she murmured, her voice clear.
When she stepped into the town square, Whale on her left and Killian on her right, it was suspiciously like the year before in that all eyes were on her. She did not look at any of them as she walked through the crowds. Her hair was plaited neatly, her gaze forward and her walk betrayed no fear.
As the trio of Hunger Games winners walked toward the podium, the citizens of District 7 seemed to honor their passing with the utmost reverence. Everyone’s fists were already raised in the traditional mourning sign…the one she’d given to Imani when she left the girl’s side last.
She closed her fist and pressed it gently against Imani’s forehead before taking it to her chest, and then extending it, palm open, toward the sky. It was a gesture done between District 7 and their fallen.
No one dies alone.
But she could see in their eyes that this was not a gesture of mourning. Their arms did not waver, and no one brought their hand back down when she raised her hand back to them.
This was a gesture of solidarity. They were with her, and whoever went to the Games again whether it was Killian or Whale.
The Mistguard surrounding the town square shifted nervously, but they stood still. On the platform overlooking the town square was their mayor, several more Mistguard and Tink. Tink’s outfit was a somber affair compared to her normal verve and vigor. It was not black but an intricately woven gray piece, with muted feathers attached to her at random points.
Killian extended his arm toward Emma and helped her up the stairs. His hand did not leave her arm as they walked together before taking their place beside Whale. This year, there would be no speeches. There would just be the reaping to ensure that no districts had time for a revolt.
“Welcome to the reaping of the 75th annual Hunger Games,” Tinkerbell said, looking out amongst the crowd. She could hear the waver in Tinkerbell’s voice and see the tears in Tink’s eyes but Emma did not shed a tear. “It is my honor to once again select the Tributes for this years Hunger Games. And the Quarter Quell is quite a special Games, isn’t it? The Quarter Quell is…” Tink faltered, lowering the cards in her hands and Emma felt a burst of affection for the Capitol woman beside her.
“I am sorry,” Tink said quietly. “To all of you…” She let out a shaky sigh, “They’ve done so well haven’t they?” The crowd did not react but stared unblinkingly at Tink. But the woman was not deterred. “No matter who it is…we…we should only be so lucky that they represent District 7. And they have been very brave and the very best of us.”
She smiled weakly at the crowd before looking over at where Emma, Killian and Whale stood. “And may the odds be ever in your favor.”
She walked over to the glass bowl that only contained one slip of paper. Tink retrieved the piece of paper from the bowl and opened it, “The female District 7 Tribute for this year’s Hunger Games is…Emma Swan,” she said, but there was clearly no joy in the announcement.
And at first, Emma felt no emotion at the sound of her own name. But then, someone whistled the same call that Imani had used to get the attention of the swansong in the arena. Locating the source of the whistle, she made eye contact with Neal, who only smiled sadly at her as he raised his hand toward the sky. And then, just like in District 11, the wind seemed to suddenly pick up dozens—if not hundreds—of white feathers.
Emma’s lip quivered and her eyes watered, but she kept her head held high as the white feathers danced around her. She closed her fist and put it over her heart, trying to show her thanks but trying to keep her emotions from spilling over so Gold wouldn’t see. Perhaps they’d now condemned themselves to months, if not years of suspicion, and they may never know peace again.
But they did it to show her that she was not alone and how much she meant to them.
“Right, that’s done then,” Tinkerbell said, no longer hiding the tears that slid down her face, taking her carefully painted face with it. “Onto our gentlemen…”
Emma closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. She prayed to anyone or anything that would listen that Killian’s name would be called so that Whale could volunteer for him. She prayed that Killian wouldn’t have to go back, and that he could stay behind and look after Henry. At the very least, the two would have each other.
“The male tribute for this year’s Hunger Games is…” Tink made no show of mixing the bowl, just merely picked out one of the two names sitting there. She opened it and Emma already knew who it was by the look on her face.
“Victor Whale.”
“I volunteer as Tribute,” Killian said immediately, stepping forward.
“Think about what you’re doing,” Whale warned, trying to push Killian back to where he stood. “I’m a dead man, anyway, so just let me go.”
“You can’t stop me, Whale,” Killian said calmly. He faced Tinkerbell and repeated, loud enough and clear enough for everyone to hear him, “I volunteer as Tribute.”
Emma looked desperately at her fiancé, trying to figure out how she could plead with him to stay, plead with him to change his mind. But he gave her the tiniest little shake of his head, and Emma knew that his decision was final.
“Here are your Hunger Games Tributes…for the second time,” Tink murmured, the heartbreak in her voice reverberating around the town square. “Emma Swan and Killian Jones.”
The group of Mistguards on stage immediately took their batons out and drove Emma and Killian back. “Wait, what’s going on?” she cried, looking wildly from Killian to Whale to Tink all of whom were being pushed back by the Mistguard. “We get to say goodbye, don’t we?” she begged, struggling to get past them, to see Henry one last time.
“Henry!” she screamed, trying to wrench past. “Henry!”
“Emma!” Henry screamed, trying to get past the Mistguard that had now surrounded the townspeople.
“Get on the train!” the Mistguard snarled, all but shoving her up the platform.
“Goodbye!” she called, and she wasn’t even sure that Henry could hear her as the door to the train closed right in front of her face.
Chapter Text
“And we’re back on this goddamn train,” Whale huffed as the train sped away from the station. He closed his eyes, swaying a little bit. “I need a goddamn drink.” He looked over at Emma, who was still looking at the train. “Looks like you could use one too.”
Emma ignored him and immediately turned away to sprint back to her favorite place on the train. She knew Killian would follow her and so she tried to compose in her head what she wanted to say.
But just like last time, she was so angry with him.
But unlike last time, it was for a completely different reason.
“Swan, it’ll be all right,” he soothed, reaching out to touch her. She spun away from him, eyes blazing for a fight. His jaw clenched as he stared at her, his eyes becoming icy at her rejection.
“You could’ve lived!” she snarled lowly. “You didn’t have to volunteer for Whale. You could’ve just left it well enough alone and we would’ve died there but you would’ve had the rest of your life. One of us didn’t have a goddamn choice, Killian. But you did!”
“Do you really think I would’ve lived to stay here and watch you perish in those Games? Knowing that I could’ve done something to protect you?” Killian asked sharply, clenching his jaw as he looked down at her. “Do you really think that me watching you die would’ve been a life worth living?”
“But you would’ve lived!” Emma repeated. “You would’ve been there for Henry and knowing you had a life would’ve been enough for me!”
“That’s not enough for me!” Killian declared heartbrokenly. He deflated slightly, giving his head an agitated toss. “Swan, I…I hate running so hot and cold with you. One minute, we’re a united front no matter what and the next, you’re tearing my head off. And I don’t know what I keep doing to deserve this…”
Emma stood up in front of him. She gently guided his chin with her hand so he could see the quivering of her lip and so that he understood every word she said. “Oh, Killian? Don’t you understand? Now that you’re the Tribute…I have to mourn you. If you die before me, I won’t have time to do it in the Games and if you die after me…well…” She tilted her head back to try and stop the tears from running down her face. “I just wanted one of us to be happy and since I figured there was no way I was getting out of these Games...I hoped it would be you.”
“Emma.” The call of her name made her knees all but buckle, but he was right there to catch her as he always was. Killian wrapped his arms tightly around her and she buried her face in his chest, nuzzling against him. “Emma, don’t you know?” he whispered into her hair. “I volunteered this time so that I could make sure…I could make sure you’d be the one to get your happy ending.”
“The night of our engagement party. Pan warned me about this. He knew what was going to happen,” she choked out, squeezing her eyes shut. He didn’t deserve this fate and she didn’t deserve him. “He warned me that I wasn’t going to be so lucky and I should’ve put the pieces faster together. I should’ve been quick enough, smart enough—"
“Emma, there’s no way you could’ve accurately predicted this outcome,” Killian promised softly, gently rocking her back and forth in his arms. “Please, love, don’t you beat yourself up…”
“Once again, there’s a huge target on our back and it’s all my fault!” she declared, picking her head up to look at him desperately. “And you wouldn’t have a target on your back if you’d just let Whale go!”
A look of understanding suddenly crossed Killian’s face. “You’re still trying to protect me, aren’t you?” he whispered, drawing his thumb across her cheek. Leaning into his touch, she nodded, and he let out an exasperated huff. “Emma…you’re not the only one who survived last year. I’m a survivor, love. I survived Liam’s death, I survived last year’s Games…and while I love your protectiveness, need I remind you that I watch your back as much as you watch mine?”
Emma rest her cheek back on his chest. “I know,” she said quietly. She’d seen his fierceness firsthand only a few times, but she knew that he was not to be trifled with when the chips were down. He was just as tough as she was. “I may not always act like it, but I do know.” She nestled in closer as he stroked her hair. “I…last year my only focus was getting home to Henry. I didn’t think about anything else…and now…”
“And now?” Killian prompted.
“And now…it just feels like all of it is so much bigger than us,” Emma replied. “Especially after all we’ve seen.” She let Killian stroke her back one minute before she pulled back slightly. “Can I ask you something?” she asked. “And I’m not asking because I’m trying to pick a fight. I’m asking because I really want to know: did you have to volunteer for Whale?”
Killian grinned sardonically and rolled his head back so that he was looking up at the ceiling while he gathered his thoughts. She kept her distance for now, just so they could have the serious conversation, though her skin was practically crawling with the effort. “Aye. Liam used to say a man unwilling to fight for what he wants gets what he deserves.”
“Some would say you’ve already paid the price,” Emma pointed out, but she knew Killian didn’t think so. A dark mood settled over the car, but she didn’t want to succumb to the grimness just yet. There was still a fight to be had and she wasn’t going to go lying down. But that meant her partner had to be with her, and she needed Killian to be upbeat for that to happen.
She licked her lips and tilted her head upwards before she asked her second question, starting to blush, “How come you like touching me so much?”
“What?” Killian laughed, clearly not expecting that line of questioning.
“You’re always rubbing my back or stroking my hair…just two minutes ago you were annoyed with me and then all of a sudden you become like this mega cuddler…so like…what gives?” Emma asked with a shy little laugh of her own, her smile widening when she saw Killian blush.
“Well, if I’m honest,” he said shyly. “I was always affectionate as a boy. My mam loved it and then when Liam died…not very many people held me or let me hold them until you and I...I find when I’m upset just holding you calms me. Don’t forget that it’s you, love, who makes me feel like the odds are in my favor.”
“Oh,” she said with a blush.
He scratched behind his ear. “I can always stop if you don’t like it.”
“Don’t you dare!” Emma exclaimed indignantly.
Killian’s laugh echoed throughout the entire car.
--
Later that night, after dinner, Emma and Killian found themselves alone in Killian’s room. They hadn’t been talking about much of anything, just relaxing, but she could tell Killian was getting more and more on edge. “You might as well come out with it, you look like you’re going to jump out of your skin,” she teased.
“It’s about our conversation from before,” Killian admitted. “Should we…should we adjourn to our spot?”
Emma nodded encouragingly at him, to try and show him that she was in a good place and that she would do her very best to not be combative with him. As they walked to the last car of the train, she didn’t speak, she just let him take a few breaths to try and compose his thoughts. She knew he did best when he could think through what he wanted to say, and she was going to be patient with because he deserved that much.
He sat down, looking at his hand and not really looked at her, not at first. She sat beside him, but did not reach out to touch him just yet. “I…you know that you and Henry are really all that I have left in this world? And that I chose to come to the Games because I knew Henry would be taken care of?” he asked softly.
“I…” Emma sighed, looking down. Her shoulders came up, trying to protect herself again. Her feelings of inadequacy and unworthiness came kicking and screaming to the surface. She didn’t understand how he knew that she was worth throwing his life away. “I know you feel that way,” she finally decided on.
She closed her eyes and added bitterly, “I just wish…I just don’t want you to build me up to something I’m not.” When she opened her eyes again, Killian was staring at her in complete and utter shock. “I mean…like…Killian you’re so good and charming and kind and loving and I still don’t understand why you’d tie yourself to someone like me.”
“And what exactly is wrong with you?” Killian replied.
“Too many things,” Emma grumbled. When Killian levelled her with a serious look, she said, “I’m not…I just don’t want to disappoint you. I don’t want you to build me up like they all have and you know me so well that I will disappoint you the more and more you see the real me!”
“Do you really believe that, Emma?” Killian asked, leaning back in his chair. “Do you really believe that I love you because of how you’ve presented yourself to the public?” His piercing blue eyes stared directly into her green eyes when he asked, “Do you think it possible at all that I love you not for your persona but for the girl I’ve come to know?”
His voice became tender when he asked, “Is it at all possible that I’ve come to love you for you?”
“It’s possible,” she admitted, rubbing the back of her neck. “I just…don’t want to disappoint you. Make you realize that I’m something that I’m not.”
“Emma, if I’ve if ever made you feel like you’re something you’re not, then I need you to tell me when and how so I can work on it and make sure that you never feel that way again,” Killian said seriously.
"No, no, you've never made me feel like..." Emma started, her cheeks turning pink a little bit. She took a in a deep breath as she tried to refocus her thoughts. "You've never made me feel the pressure that they do. You always do whatever you can to build me up, to make me strong again and I..." She ducked her head away from him. "I always wondered how I can possibly make you feel the same way when I don't even know what I'm doing half the time!"
She sighed, her shoulders deflating slightly. "You always make me feel like I can take on anything. I don't know how to do the same for you and I feel bad about it. And everyone should have that before they die and it's gonna be lousy for you if you die and I haven't given you everything you've given me."
"But Emma, you already do all those wonderful things for me," Killian told her, his eyes widening with disbelief. Her head jerked up in surprise, and her heart was warmed by the affectionate look in Killian's eyes. He cupped her cheek in his hand and she leaned it to it, nuzzling against his palm. "Emma, I know that I'm my best self when I'm with you, and I have been my best self with you since the day that we met."
"I guess I just took for granted that I got your best self," Emma joked weakly. "I knew...I knew it was there but I didn't really get to know it until the Games." She closed her eyes. "I hate that the Games did this. That it was the Games that brought us together and not something normal."
"I know," Killian murmured, his thumb sweeping down her cheek to rest on the dent in her chin. "It's not right nor is it fair, but I am honored to have truly gotten to know you. And I'm grateful for the opportunity to show you parts of me that I thought had long been buried. And I am...the luckiest man alive to have gotten to know you, Emma."
Emma closed the distance between them with a soft kiss before she curled up against his chest contently. Killian's entire body relaxed and his hand travelled down her arm to twine their fingers together. He nuzzled the top of her scalp with a smile and placed a kiss there gently.
The unspoken desperation, knowing that this could be the one of the last times they'd probably get to hold each other like this, hung heavy in the air over both of them. Still, Emma did her best not to focus on that but rather the steady beat of Killian's heart against her skin and the even rise and fall of his chest against hers.
She was still frustrated and upset that he'd decided to sacrifice himself for her, but it was so hard to be angry at him when she was so scared. It was easier to seek the comfort, hide away in it. If she lived, she had the rest of her life to be angry with him. If she didn't live, then in a few weeks' time it wouldn't matter. Either way, Emma didn't feel that tainting what time they had was going to be worth it, especially since they had already shared their feelings on the matter and there was nothing more either party could do about it.
Emma let her eyes close and her breath slowed. She was awake and fully aware what was going on around her, but it was nice to be grounded in the moment with Killian and to just focus on that.
But a sniffle startled them both out of the cocoon they'd crafted for themselves to find Whale and Tink watching them. Well, Whale was watching them, Tink was sobbing profusely.
"I'm sorry, I tried to get her to calm down before we came in here," Whale said with a shrug. His grimace wasn't that of annoyance but of concern, and Emma couldn't help but share his feelings. Normally, Tink was the most cheerful and upbeat one out of them. But she stood before them sobbing like the world was ending.
"Tink, are you okay?" Killian asked worriedly, sitting up straighter with Emma still enveloped in his embrace.
"No!" Tink sobbed. "I'm not okay! None of this is okay!"
Emma and Killian exchanged a look before looking back at Tink worriedly.
"None of this is okay. It just isn’t fair. You’re so young, you’d been through it once and you fought so hard and it it's not fair that you had to go right back into it! You were supposed to get to rest and it's just not fair!"
Emma extracted herself from Killian's embrace so she could go hug Tink tightly. It had never occurred to her what the normal was supposed to be, given that she and Killian had a target on their backs from the moment they won. There had been a moment, when they'd first gotten back, that maybe things would be okay.
But then Gold had come into her house and threatened her, threatened Killian, threatened Henry...Emma supposed she hadn't had much time to reflect on the actual fairness of any of it.
Though, Emma supposed, things hadn't been fair for her for and Killian for a long time. It wasn't fair that Emma had lost both of her parents the same night and left to fend for herself and Henry in a capricious world. It wasn't fair that Killian's father abandoned them, and Liam died in the Hunger Games. It wasn't fair that her being in the Hunger Games had been all but an inevitability just to keep her and Henry alive. It wasn't fair that Killian had needed to volunteer himself for death--twice--because he felt he had nothing left to lose.
"We're tough, Tink," Emma said sympathetically, hugging Tink again. Tink hugged her back fiercely and Emma was startled by the strength of the hug too.
“Hey, Tinkerbell?”
“Yes, dear?” Tinkerbell replied.
“You said when you were in school there were thirteen districts…but wasn’t 13 wiped out 74 years ago?” Emma asked, looking up again at Tinkerbelle. For the first time, Tinkerbelle’s carefree and lighthearted demeanor slipped when she smiled at Emma.
“Yes.”
And then she remembered just how long Tink had been around for. Tink was far older than she seemed, and she wasn't sure what Capitol tricks were done so that she and the other ambassadors were as old as they were.
And while Whale had mentors at one point, Emma realized that it had been Tink and Whale who had been together for the last 25 years on this journey. Their ambassador had never gotten the opportunity to get close to anyone else because no one else had lived. She thought of Tink's crushed reactions to the disappearance of Mayor Lir, and suddenly Emma realized that Tink was probably just as lonely as hurt as the rest of them.
"You know," she started, smiling weakly at Tink. "All the Reaping videos should be in by now. Why don't we watch them together? I bet Tink has some great dirt she could give on each of them!" She tried to keep her voice light and cheery for Tink's sake, and the woman gave her a watery smile in return.
"That's not a half bad idea, cherub," Whale said. His hand made a motion toward his flask but then he stopped before he sat down on the couch with a long drawn sigh. Emma went back to sit in between her mentor and Killian. Tink sat down on Whale's free side and he very gently pat her thigh.
"What's gonna be easiest for you, Whale?" Emma asked, worried about her mentor’s health and wellbeing. "If we start with 12 or if we start with 11?"
"It's all going to be goddamn horrible no matter how you slice it," Whale grumbled, running a hand over his face. "I...I don't know. I don't care. Just start with 12," he snarled lowly, looking away for a moment.
So, Emma did, and her heart lurched the first three districts when there were only two victors standing up on the stage. Her eyes began to water when David and Snow never let go of the other's hand, even when they were supposed to. Tink's sniffles were a sign she wasn't the only one feeling this way, and she felt Whale silently shaking beside her.
Rubbing her eyes furiously, there realized that in every District they had seen so far, there were people weeping in the town square for their Victors, their citizens, their friends.
People were losing family members and neighbors. Friends and loved ones. While the Hunger Games was normally the tragedy of eleven Districts and the glory of one, everything was amplified that year because of what a staple most of these people had clearly been in their community.
District after District, from District 12 to District 1, the grief was both unifying and palpable. And suddenly, Emma could understand why 8 responded to Midas’s grief. He had finally lived the experiences that so many families had the burden of sharing all of those years alone.
But unlike last year, Emma was committed to making sure that she knew every single one of their names before she went into the arena.
Regina and Arthur. James and Mulan. Belle and Isaac. Ursula and Blackbeard. Granny and Gus. Robin Hood and Dorothy. Me and Killian. Megara and Lumiere. Archie and Gothel. Snow and David. Lancelot and Rapunzel. Grumpy and Tamara.
Chapter 18
Notes:
What's wild is that I've had all these chapters written but I just haven't been posting them cuz I haven't had the energy to.
But anyway, this chapter has a little bit of lull in terms of action but I still hope you'll enjoy nonetheless!
Chapter Text
Watching former Hunger Games was arguably the most painful thing Emma had ever done. Not only because it was watching 23 children die ad infinitum, but she had gotten attached to some of the people she'd only met a handful of times. Watching their Games made them more...real to her. Before she'd known about their Victor status in the abstract, but now she knew every detail of their win, who they killed, how long their Games took...
The singular saving grace of the entire exercise was that they did not have to watch Liam Jones die again, since Ruby was not participating in the Quarter Quell.
Though she had to admit, the technological advances between 70 years ago and now were certainly impressive. The screen had all but frozen before Granny's final kill and Emma was disappointed in the way the two last tributes were standing, face to face, and in a blink of an eye the other was dead at Granny's feet.
I think I'm becoming them, she thought grimly.
But what was heartbreaking in its own way was that so many of the current Tributes were so young. Dorothy, Gus, Megara, Belle, Mulan and Rapunzel had all won in the last ten years in addition to her and Killian.
That made 8 out of the 24 for Tributes.
Upon that realization, Killian had decided it was time they ought to go to bed to rest and retain their youthful glow while they still could. Emma promised she'd follow him soon after, but she was still sitting in the dark, ruminating over those 6 other Tributes alone.
I wonder what their lives would've been like...would they have gotten married? Had a family? Had kids? Though given what happened to Abigail, I don't know that having kids is necessarily the best way for keeping...
At the sudden thought of kids, a horrified chill ran down her spine. Some of these Tributes were parents or grandparents. If Emma killed these people, she'd be orphaning young children like she'd been orphaned.
She sprung up, needing to share this realization with Killian, needing someone to understand how she absolutely couldn't do that, but the door swung open before she could take a step.
"Cherub," Whale slurred, looking up at her with glossed over eyes. "Jus-just the girl I wanted to see." He draped his arm around her, the flask still in his hand. "I gotta...I gotta talk to you about the Games."
"Can't it wait?" Emma asked tersely, her shoulders tensed. "I was just about to go to bed."
"What're you doing in here?" Whale asked, stumbling toward the couch. He crashed into the side table and sent the vase crashing to the floor before he sprawled out across the couch. "Looks like you were having a grand old time in here. Just you and Killy."
"We were watching old Hunger Games videos," Emma sighed, sitting on the floor beside her mentor. Even if Whale didn't remember her reservations and fears come morning, it would be better for her in the long run if she got them out to someone. She sat with her knees against her chest and she didn't look at him.
"What's going on in that head of yours, cherub?" Whale asked, leaning over to tap her nose. And then he seemed to realize what she had said, and he rolled back over onto his back.
"Please make it painless, Emma," he whispered.
"Make what painless?" She didn't look at him. She wasn't even sure if she could.
"When you kill them. Whoever you kill. Even if you hate their goddamn guts in the moment...and Lord knows there's a bunch in that crew that I really don't like...just...just make it painless." His voice cracked in so many spots that it broke Emma's heart each time and she buried her face against her knees to try and keep the sorrow at bay.
"I'll try," she promised. "Will...do you think they'd do the same for me?"
"I'll make sure of it," Whale promised softly, and Emma wasn't sure if he'd even remember to keep that promise but the thought was comforting. It was what gave her the courage to admit to her mentor, "I don't want to make any kids orphans, Whale. I...I saw their faces in the Reaping videos and I just...I don't know if I could live with myself if I knew that I made some kid an orphan."
"If you die, it makes Henry an orphan," Whale pointed out.
"Henry and I have already been orphans," she replied testily.
"Okay, well if you die then it means Henry will be alone, and I'm sure you don't want that," Whale pointed out, still looking up at the ceiling. "You're not the only one with a motivation here, Emma. Don't let their motivations be your undoing."
"I can't help but think about it," Emma sucked. "Because it's been the last two years of my life where I've just had to live without my parents...I don't want to do anything to make that happen for another kid. Because being on your own? With no parents? It sucks."
"A lot about being a Hunger Games winner sucks," Whale sighed, and somehow Emma knew he was thinking about his brother. Now seemed like a good moment to ask, but she wasn't sure if she could handle it, and it wouldn't be fair to Whale to unearth this painful story only for her to react in the wrong way.
So she sighed, and said quietly, "It really does suck to win the Hunger Games. It's better than the alternative...but it still is just..."
She leaned her head backward and Whale gave it a very awkward pat. "Okay, I will give you all of my winnings if you promise to never do that again," Emma said severely, turning around to look her mentor in the eye. He laughed weakly and batted at her ineffectively.
"So other than time passes, what else did you learn in here about your competitors this evening?" Whale asked.
"You, Regina, Lancelot, Robin Hood, David and Snow all won really close together," she admitted. "That kind of surprised me."
"Wow, that's the exact order we won in, you big freak," Whale told her, rolling onto his side and giving her a suspicious look. "Starting with me 25 years ago."
"No wonder David greeted you like that...the day were at the train station. No wonder Snow felt like she could threaten you in order to make sure Killian and I were alive," Emma said sadly. Teasing him weakly, she added, "Whale, you really did have friends this whole time."
"I really did," Whale replied weakly, smiling sadly at her. "They are...the best friends in the entire world. But don't you dare tell them I said that because I'd never live it down if David knew he was one of my best friends."
"Your secret is safe with me," Emma said softly, drawing her knees back up to her chest. "I'll take it to my grave."
"Don't joke like that, cherub, that's my shtick," Whale groused, closing his eyes. "Victors of the games are bound in ways that we can’t even describe to other people...I wish you would've had the time to learn this. Most of those people would've gone to the end of the Earth for you if you needed anything because you're one of us."
They already did, Emma thought, thinking of how seriously Snow and David took to tending to her. How Archie and Mulan had done everything in their power to make sure Killian was prepared for a life after the Hunger Games. How Regina had gone into a meeting with Gold and Pan themselves just to support Whale.
"Most Victors are a decent sort, though again...there's a few I won't mind too much if the odds aren't in their favor," Whale admitted roughly, grimacing. He sighed again when he looked at Emma, as if searching her face for something he couldn't find. "Y'know, if I ever needed help with anything...and I mean anything... Regina? Robin? Lance? Snow? David? Those are the five I would have gone to. And shit's really gonna suck without them."
Suddenly and without warning, Whale grabbed his side and let out a grunt of pain. "Son of a bitch."
Emma sprung to her feet, her hands hovering uselessly over him. "Whale!" she exclaimed. "Are you okay? What's going on?"
"This?" he grunted. "Aw, this is nothing, this is just something that happens--"
"This is not a thing that happens," the ceiling interrupted them, its pleasant tone seeming out of sorts with the seriousness of the situation. "Victor Whale, your liver readings are abnormal and suggest that your transplant is failing."
"Transplant?!?" Emma gasped. "Failing?!? What? Whale? Why didn't you tell us?"
"I got a liver transplant before the Games last year," Whale explained through gritted teeth. "There is medication that I was supposed to take to keep my new liver functioning happily and healthily. But, uh...y'know, they were making it in the Capitol and just after you guys won, there was a problem with my shipment..."
"Victor Whale required a liver transplant due to cirrhosis of the liver. Cirrhosis of the liver is a late stage of scarring caused by many things, though Mister Whale's condition is currently a direct result of his alcohol consumption."
"Thanks for ratting me out," Whale grumbled, shaking his first at the ceiling. "I was told I could in moderation..." He closed his eyes again, waiting for the pain to pass. "Doesn't matter. As soon as we get back to the Capitol, the sponsors will hook me up to the experimental stuff. Gotta look good for the cameras, y'know?"
"Whale, even if I did believe that, you have not been drinking moderately in any way, shape or form!" Emma cried worriedly. "And just because you're getting the good medications in a few days doesn't mean that you can just...drink yourself to death!"
"God, you sound like Tink," Whale huffed.
"Tink knew?" Emma cried.
"Course she did," Whale shrugged. "She's my keeper, haven't you noticed? Besides, if I destroy myself what's it gonna matter?"
"Well, you can't do it before the Quarter Quell because Killian and I need you!" Emma shot back in frustration. Whale sat up, his eyebrows practically climbing into his hairline as he looked over at Emma.
"Really, cherub?" he asked, his voice tinted with surprise. "And how do you know that you need me? I trained with you and Killian before the Reaping. I watched you get through the Games and then the tour. You're both pretty damn capable."
"Yeah, well," Emma huffed, crossing her arms. "It turns out that you're tougher than I ever thought you could be. So you're not allowed to die just yet. After Killian and I die you're more than allowed to fuck off the mortal coil, but until then, we need you."
"And how do you know that?" Whale asked, raising an eyebrow at her. "I see my tape is unwatched."
"We were getting to it eventually," Emma grumbled, sitting up by her mentor. "You got me and Killian through our first Games. And the tour. And you had a time limit on your Games, and you still won. And like...you kicked our asses that first day when were training and you did that with a failing liver. So you're obviously capable."
Only the corner of Whale's mouth twitched upward, but he looked so incredibly proud. "You're so much smarter than other people give you credit for. But you're like your mother that way."
Emma blushed as she popped the tape in. "So...tell me what you know, Hunger Games winner."
"It's not pretty," Whale replied, taking a long swig of his flask, which Emma snatched out of his hand. "Are you sure you're up for this? I don't want you to get nightmares, cherub."
"I'm fine," Emma huffed, looking up at him, taking a sip of his flask. She hit play.
"So the twist--as you know--is that we had to complete it in 50 hours. The implication was that we'd be killed at the end of 50 hours if we weren't done, but I don't know if they actually would've gone through with it or if they would've manipulated the arena elements to make sure that we finished within the 50 hours..."
He closed his eyes, but Emma's eyes were fixed on the violent frenzy that was the opening bloodbath.
"But we all felt it when that cannon went off. The urgency was so thick in the air, you breathed it in with every breath you took." She watched as a younger version of Whale took a lightning rod and an ask and headed away from the bloodbath.
He probably gave us the advice that he got when he went into the Games, she realized.
Emma watched as the bodies seemed to fall down. But she was surprised when Whale stopped the tape and zoomed in on and young woman who had swam out into the middle of the lake to avoid dying. "You see her?" he asked, pointing at her. "She was the female Tribute from my District. Her name was Helga, and she was Ingrid's sister."
"My mother had a sister?" Emma asked. "How come she'd never said anything about her sister."
Whale looked confused for a moment before he seemed to remember something and he shook his head. "Well," he started slowly. "Her youngest sister, Greta, had died like right before you were born, killed in a shipwreck or something--"
"What?" Emma asked, looking up at her mentor, completely shocked by everything she was learning. "A shipwreck? How?!?"
Whale waved her off. "I don't remember, I wasn't really paying attention at the time," he said. "And so, I have to imagine when you have two small children at home, finding a way to bring up two dead aunts was probably really hard."
"Yeah, I guess," Emma sighed, leaning back. A lump formed in her throat as she watched Helga be killed by someone. Whale had immediately sprung from where he had been hiding and stabbed Helga's killer in the head, triggering a second boom from the canon.
"You scared, cherub?" Whale asked, looking down at her.
Emma nodded, tucking her knees back against her chest even though her eyes never left the screen. She couldn't look at her mentor, feeling like she'd break if she didn't look ahead at that last Quarter Quell.
"I don't want you to be," Whale murmured soothingly. "You're tough. That's what you told Tink, right?" Emma nodded and Whale added, "It's just like last time. If you're afraid, you'll freeze up and that'll get you killed."
"So what should I do to not be afraid?" Emma asked tiredly, rubbing her eyes to try and stay awake.
"Go to bed on time for starters," Whale teased.
"You're the one who kept me awake!" Emma exclaimed indignantly, letting out a huff. She stood up and looked down at her mentor, sprawled out on the couch. "You better get up and head to your own bed."
"'m comfy here," Whale muttered, slinging his arm over his eyes.
"Sure you are," Emma replied, poking him in the side. He groaned and curled up. "C'mon. Your bed is probably all equipped to help with your liver."
"It is, actually," the ceiling AI informed them pleasantly.
"I'll help you get there if you need it," Emma offered.
"Nah, 'm good," Whale muttered as a pair of train workers came into the room. "See? Ceiling already informed them that I needed assistance."
Emma frowned, not sure if she loved the idea of Whale being taken care of by total strangers. "It's not like they're gonna murder me if you go to bed, cherub," he said exasperatedly. "Pretty sure you'd know it was them if I suddenly turn up dead in the morning."
"I don't know, I could put the same amount of money on Tink," Emma said wryly, folding her arms across her chest. Whale waved her off again and she added, "Okay. If you're sure."
She got to the door before she paused for a moment, her hand curled around the frame. "Hey, Whale?" she asked, not looking back at him.
"Yeah?" he asked softly.
"Whatever happened to your brother?"
Whale didn't seem to be that put off by the question, though admittedly she wasn't looking at his facial expression, so she had no idea what he was actually feeling. Still, the energy in the air didn't seem to change all that much.
"If you live, cherub, I promise to tell you."
"Deal." With that, Emma went off to Killian's room instead of her own. She was prepared to tiptoe in quietly as to not wake him up, but Killian was already awake.
"Hey," she murmured, and he smiled softly up at her. "You okay?"
"Aye." She kicked off her shoes and very quickly changed into a set of pajamas, though her pajamas consisted of a t-shirt and shorts. He seemed to relax once she was safely curled up against his side again. "I just...have a hard time sleeping when you're not in bed."
"Sorry," she mumbled, her eyes almost immediately fluttering shut. "Was thinking. And then Whale wanted to chat."
"Chat about what?" Killian asked softly, resting his cheek on top of her head. "Anything important?"
"Well his liver's failing," Emma started hotly, but she didn't open her eyes again. "And apparently the other District 7 Tribute in his Quarter Quell was my mother's sister that I didn't know about. And he wants to make sure that if we have to kill the other tributes that we make it painless."
"Oh, so nothing really at all," Killian answered in a deadpan voice and she chuckled against his chest. "That's certainly a lot of information to take in for one night."
"It is," Emma agreed with the tiniest of yawns, shifting to make herself more comfortable against Killian. "But it's also something you and I can deal with in the morning."
"Sounds like a plan," Killian murmured. "Probably will be more of a help after a few hours sleep anyway..."
"Mmm, me too..." she whispered, feeling her head loll forward. "Night, Killian."
"Good night, love."
Chapter 19
Notes:
So I told some people that I'd post on Tuesday and here we are...it's Friday...well, I'm going to post this relatively short chapter and hope you all enjoy it nonetheless!
Chapter Text
Emma sighed as the stagehands flitted around her head, touching her hair and just setting her teeth on edge. She had hoped she would've been done with this part of the Hunger Games, but apparently getting reaped again meant she had to do the Green Mile.
Again.
"I didn't sign up for this!" Emma hissed to Killian, folding her arms over her chest before they were pried away by Mab.
"Technically, you didn't sign up for either time we've been in the Games," Killian said wryly and Emma breathed out a quick laugh through her nose. "Just grin and bear it, Swan. It'll be over sooner rather than later."
"Well maybe I'll fall on the Green Mile and that'll kill me and then we won't have to worry about it," she muttered, and it was Killian's turn to let out a quick and discreet laugh.
"If you die on that runway it will be the end of my career," Merlin replied gravely from where he was fixing up a few last-minute details on her dress. "So do your best not to die, you got that?"
"Yeah, yeah, but only for you," Emma replied, rolling her eyes. Normally Merlin was lighthearted and easy going, even in the midst of a stressful place like the Green Mile. But everything about this year's Green Mile was different.
Rather than being an electrified place of excitement and anticipation, the dread in the air was practically palpable. Many of the stagehands were working hard to hide their tears, though some could barely get through a sentence without a few drops falling.
"I probably shouldn't have joked like that, huh?" Emma muttered, trying to put on a brave face for Tatiana and Mab.
"No, probably not," Merlin replied, stepping back. "Turn and face me, both of you." Emma and Killian did as he said and Merlin looked at them appraisingly for a moment. "Perfect. Okay. Do you both know where your cords are."
"Right pocket of the coat," Killian replied instantly.
"Uhhh, somewhere by hip or thigh, probably," Emma replied, fumbling around until she felt the handle. "Left thigh. Got it."
"Good," Merlin said. "When you pass each other on the way back, you're going to pull the lever on each of your wardrobes. The leaves will spread out behind you, you'll paint the Green Mile with your feathers. Hopefully Killian won't slip on his way back, but that's why you both are going without shoes again."
"Well thank God for small favors," Emma replied, rolling her eyes a little bit. "This still isn't my suit." It was close. Rather than a dress, Emma was allowed to wear pants for what felt like the first time in forever, but her top was a little too form-fitting and sleeveless to be a suit. The dark green of the pants looked like leaves climbing up to the sky and her vest was blue and white. Killian matched her perfectly.
But it still wasn't the suit she had been promised she was going to wear once she was a Victor.
Merlin smiled his first true smile of the day. "I haven't forgotten," he said affectionately. "All right. I'm done with you both. Be good and don't embarrass me." And with that, he turned around in left.
"I think he's been hanging around Whale too much," Killian muttered to Emma as they watched them go.
Emma nodded her agreement and opened her mouth to say something, when she felt an unsettling presence behind him. Turned around, she started to relax when she saw it was David, but then tensed again.
"Hello, Emma," the man said pleasantly, but the cadence was all wrong. "Been a long time, hasn't it, sweetie?"
David never called her sweetie.
"Okay, just who the hell are you?" Emma asked, ignoring the way her heart began to beat faster against her chest. She sincerely hoped that this man wasn't another shape shifter like Walsh, hwo could take on any form at any time.
"Emma, what are you talking about. It's me--"
"Cut the crap," Emma snapped, already not in the mood for whatever was happening here. "I know you're not David. You speak in a higher tone of voice than he does. Not by a lot, but some. And David has never, ever, called me sweetie."
A cruel and menacing smirk crawled over the stranger's face, and it was absolutely unsettling to see it as if it were coming from David. "Well, well, well...she's pretty and smart. That's good to know for the arena."
"Stay the hell away from her, James," David snarled, stepping in front of Emma, and leaving both Emma and Killian to wonder where in the hell David had even come from.
"I wasn't going to do anything...yet," James taunted, leering at David with that awful grin on his face.
"If you go anywhere near her," David threatened furiously. "I'll tear your throat out and I won't wait until the arena to do it."
"Temper, temper," James laughed. "I was only saying hello." Smirking around David, he made eye contact with Emma. She shivered at the dark and foreboding look in his eyes. "I'll see you around, Emma. It was lovely to meet you."
Emma watched the man walk away. It was only when James was out of sight and earshot that David relaxed. "Are you okay?" she asked David, a little nervous to take any step closer to him when he'd been so vicious toward James. She'd only known David to be gentle and kind, and once again she was reminded of the reality that he was a Hunger Games winner and had that viciousness within him.
"Yeah..." David said in a strange voice, staring out where James was before he shook his head and turned around to look back at Emma. "I'm sorry you had to see me like that," he muttered, shaking his head. "These Games just...have me on edge. That's all."
"Yeah, I get that," Emma replied, keeping her tone light. She didn't think that the Games warranted that kind of reaction from him. And Killian seemed to agree with her, as he stepped protectively in front of her, puffing his chest out.
David stepped back for a moment at Killian's protective display before he seemed to come back too himself and he smiled gently. "I'm sorry for scaring you," he said, and there was the David that Emma had come to know.
"It's okay," Emma told him. "I promise that James didn't do anything to hurt me. We were just talking..." She wanted to ask David the obvious question, but then again it seemed like there was more than one obvious question at this point.
Why did James look exactly like David? And why did David hate James so much?
But then the stagehands called placed and she was all but shepherded into line away from David and with Killian. The lump in her throat gathered as she realized that the last time, she'd been in line behind Graham, who had died the first night of the Games.
"I suppose trees are a bit uninspired, aren't they?" Robin asked, clearly trying to get her attention or try to get her to smile.
"What?" Emma asked.
"Trees. I always hated that our outfits were based on our District export and not our personalities for the Green Mile," Robin said conspiratorially.
"I think I'd rather have trees over transportation," Emma huffed and Robin just laughed, turning back in line.
Emma looked over her shoulder at Killian, wondering how Robin Hood could be so at ease and relaxed. It seemed almost like another day in the life rather than a Hunger Games for him. Moreover, he kept talking to her like he knew her. And he did, sort of as they'd met at Emma and Killian's engagement party, but it made Emma nervous just how friendly Robin was.
Maybe it's a trap, she thought, shifting her shoulders anxiously. It's a trap to get our guards down before we go into the arena. I can't fall for it. There's too much riding on this to me to fall for it.
Luckily, the familiar, frenetic rhythm of the Green Mile procession brought Emma back to herself and she found she could refocus again. She found her breathing was easier, her head was clear and she could easily focus on what came ahead.
When it was her turn to walk, she did not look at anyone, she didn't smile. She didn't even pause to look at Gold. At the end of the runway, she paused for her picture but she didn't even bother giving Gold the satisfaction of her attention.
As she walked back down, her hand drifted to her thigh, her fingers tightening around the cord. She saw Killian approaching, and she gave him the tiniest of nods.
3...2...1.
As they passed each other, they both pulled on their cords in unison. The audience gasped as the top of their vests unfurled to reveal what Emma thought were supposed to be leaves. But rather than the traditional hue of green or perhaps even autumn, these leaves had been painted white.
And though Emma could see that they still were leaves that were scattered about her feet, the way they had been sculpted and scored made them look like...
Like feathers, Emma realized, her heart pounding with dread. She didn't want to look for Merlin in the crowd before she got off the runway, but she wanted to look up and try to figure out if this was on purpose or an accident.
Maybe he was just going for those wispy clouds... she tried to convince herself, but she knew that wasn't it. She knew he'd done this on purpose, and she only hoped that Gold hadn't put the pieces together.
She couldn't see him, and she almost didn't want to see him.
Once she was safely offstage, she waited anxiously for Killian and all but flew to him once he'd joined her. He was equally as troubled as she was and it was written all over his face. "Did you look at Gold?" she asked anxiously, and Killian shook his head.
"I didn't dare, as soon as I saw the feathers," he told her, biting his lip. He squeezed her hand gently, looking around furtively to make sure that none of the other Tributes were listening to them. "Emma, I don't think this was an accident..."
"I know," Emma whispered, pressing her forehead to Killian's. She took in a few deep breaths to try and steady herself.
"You're okay, love," Killian promised softly, and she tried to focus on his voice rather than the raging tempest of panic that was swirling in her mind now. "Focus on me. Dashing rapscallion right in front of you. Can't miss him."
She laughed quietly and closed her eyes, breathing with him for a moment. The sound of footsteps drew her back out again, but she did not move far away from Killian.
Merlin was grinning from ear to ear at both of them, all but bouncing with excitement. "Nicely done the two of you. You timed it just perfectly."
"Did you really have to do that in front of Gold?" Emma asked nervously. "Those leaves, I mean..."
Merlin shrugged. "It's just fashion," he said with a sly smile. "After all, they couldn't be green, it'd blend in with the runway."
"I don't know if Gold will see it that way," Emma replied nervously.
"Don't worry about me," Merlin said, still grinning from ear to ear.
"Emma! Killian!" Being in the Capitol had already done wonders for Whale's health. His skin was a normal color instead of the yellowish hue it'd taken, his eyes were bright, he was standing tall, and he was walking with an older woman who Emma assumed was Granny Lucas. "This is Granny Lucas!"
"You know Granny isn't actually my name, right, Victor?" Granny asked wryly. "Though, I'm not surprised. You'd always had an affinity for giving everyone and anyone a nickname when you couldn't remember their names."
"Everyone calls you Granny."
"Never said any of 'em had permission to call me Granny. Somehow that never stopped any of you before."
Emma grinned in spite of herself. This woman was clearly spirited in spite of her old age, and Emma could appreciate the woman's wit. "Hi," she said. "I'm Emma."
An amused quirk of Granny's lips preceded, "I know who you are. I'm old, not living under a rock." But there was no harshness to it, just a bluntness and candor that Emma deeply appreciated. "I like your spunk, the two of you."
"I told you that you would," Whale said smugly. He beckoned and Killian. "Come on, you two. I'm sure you want to get out of those clothes. Let's go back to the apartments. Bye, Granny." He waved the old woman off and sauntered toward the elevators.
Emma and Killian bemusedly followed him into the elevator. Before the doors closed, Regina slipped in behind them. Her outfit was incredible, but ostentatious, form fitting and volumunous.
"How do you even walk in that?" Emma asked, her eyebrow arching.
"With the poise and dignity of queen," Regina retorted. She looked at Emma and Killian out of the corner of her eye. "Something I'm sure neither of you know anything about given the way you both absolutely plod down the runway."
"I don't plod!" Emma protested.
But Regina ignored her and continued, "Though I suppose it can't be helped. The entire world wants to sleep with you now so it's probably gone to your head. It's a shame you're taken, there are some lovely people in the Capitol that would've loved to tote you around as their arm candy."
"The whole world doesn't want to sleep with me," Emma protested and Regina's eyebrow arched.
"I wasn't talking about you, but I would've thought that was obvious," Regina said snidely. "I was talking about the eye candy over there."
Killian immediately turned bright pink and he scratched behind his ear nervously. Emma was reminded of the women who looked like they'd sized Killian up for a meal and swallowed him whole at any moment.
"I...thank you?" Killian asked, and Emma slipped her hand into Killian's. She knew that the attention made him uncomfortable and she glowered daggers at Regina, hoping that would get her to stop and leave them both alone.
"Any time," Regina replied with a smirk, walking off of the elevator without looking back at them.
Emma didn't like Regina's attitude, nor the way that she spoke to and about them. She also looked like she'd been sizing them up for a meal, though in a completely different way. So she mentally checked Regina off of her list of potential allies as well.
When they got off the elevator, Killian still looked troubled. Emma stopped, spinning around to face him and she gently placed her hand on his chest. "Hey," she murmured gently. "It's okay. You're okay. I'm right here."
Emma wrapped her arms around him and he buried her face in his shoulder. "Can you tell me why it bothers you so much?" she asked softly, stroking the back of his head.
"I know that their...intentions," Killian started quietly, hanging his head. "They're not something I want for myself. I'm not...interested in what they're after. And to be openly ogled amongst people with such power...it's frightening."
"Don't worry," Emma murmured, wrapping her arms tightly around him, hoping she was comforting him rather than patronizing him. "Once we're married...then they'll know you're all mine. And I won't ever want anything that you don't want."
"Protecting my virtue, Swan?" he teased, and Emma was relieved to feel his smile against her skin.
"Always," she murmured, kissing the top of his head.
Killian looked back at her for a moment, gingerly reaching to stroke her cheek. "I can tell you’re vexed, love. Don't let Regina ruffle your feathers, either, love. This must be just like last time...where there's parts of this meant to rile us up and distract us from our purpose before we even get started."
"You're probably right," Emma sighed, rushing his bangs out of his face. "I just...don't really feel like the odds are in our favor right now. When we were here last year, I knew there was more of an even playing field. I just...I dunno." She smiled thinly and Killian nodded understandingly.
"It's been a long day, cherubs," Whale said. "And I don't love this defeatist talk I'm hearing from you. So grab something to eat and rest. You're back in the training center tomorrow. And you're really gonna need to be in top shape because everyone's eyes will be on you."
"Fuck me," Emma muttered.
"Language," Whale scolded. "I'm not sure where you picked up this foul language--"
"You," she retorted.
"I am paragon of virtue," Whale replied wryly. "Nevertheless, you two need to rest so that you'll be able to start fresh tomorrow. Okay?"
"All right," Killian murmured softly. He tilted his head at Emma. "You coming?" he asked gently.
Without another word, she took his hand and allowed him to lead her to a room that they shared. They changed into their nightclothes and climbed in next to each other without a word.
"Erm? Emma?" Killian asked shyly, once he was curled around her. "You know that I expect nothing from these nights...I just...I like holding you. I'm not expecting anything. So I don't want you to feel like you're in danger with me."
She couldn't see him in the dark but she could feel the heat from his cheeks against her shoulder. She knew it was cruel to laugh but she couldn't help the chuckle that escaped her lips. She snuggled against him a little more firmly. "Listen," she whispered softly. "I know that there is no place where I'm safer than right here."
He sighed with relief and allowed himself to relax. Knowing their fears were assuaged for now, Emma allowed herself to fall asleep, and knew that Killian was not far behind.
Chapter 20
Notes:
As we're ramping up toward the Games, enjoy this training chapter featuring some new players to the field including Belle and Mulan!
Have I gotten to the Games part in my word document? ...no, but surprisingly, we're almost at the start of the Games. I'm maybe two, three chapters away? Which means you all are like five chapters away. Will I get to 100k before I even get to the Games? The odds are looking more and more in my favor on this one...
Chapter Text
“Well, back at it again,” Emma sighed as the Mistguards went over the rules of the training center. “What do you suppose is the best way to do it?"
"Whale told us we were supposed to 'play nice' and 'make friends' today," Killian murmured in her ear.
"Like hell I'm doing that," Emma huffed, crossing her arms over her chests. "I know that these are Whale's friends, but these are not my friends. I don't know these people from the potential hole they could put in my head."
Emma was still suspicious of the other adults that would be in the arena. She didn't trust them and she surely didn't trust their intentions. She had no idea who was a friend or foe other than Killian and moreover, she wasn't even sure she wanted to find out. She was trying to make it out alive and she wasn't sure she needed the others for that.
Well, except for Killian. She was still trying to figure out if she could make it work where they would both live again. While she figured Pan wouldn't let them both live again, she was currently trying to figure out what she could do to keep them both alive if they didn't have to attack each other.
"Shall we go play, love?" Killian teased. "I was thinking of sparring with my new hook. I still feel off-balance with the new weight." He waggled his eyebrows at her. "And I know what a tough lass you are."
"Well, we can certainly spar with you both!" Snow said cheerfully. "It's helpful to spar against other people who aren't your District partner. Besides, it's been a while since I practiced my short-range combat." She looped her arm through Killian's and began leading him away to the sparring ring.
David looked at her questioningly, and she shook her head, taking a step back. She was not in the mood for David and Snow's hovering. Where before the Games it had been comforting, it was now chafing. "I'm, uhh, gonna start with the survival station. Have fun sparring."
"Okay, Emma," David said kindly. "Have fun."
Emma waved him off as she walked toward the survival station. She watched curiously as Belle French, the Tribute from District 3, wrapped a plastic bag around some plants. "Can you simulate the heat of District 7's summer...roughly 85 degrees Fahrenheit for 3 hours?" she asked the computer who immediately complied.
In a flash, some water collected at the bottom of the bag and Emma widened. "Whoa," Emma replied. "How did you know to do that?"
"Any greenery requires water to grow and so I figured it'd be easiest to try and condense that cycle in a way where I can extract the water. Of course, since the arena is built for us, we have the added benefit of knowing that there are no pesticides. But, there is a matter of knowing what kind of plants produce arsenic..." Belle blushed, realizing something. "I'm sorry. I hadn't introduced myself and instead just lectured you about plants."
"That's okay," Emma said shyly. "I know you're Belle French. I, uh, watched your Hunger Games. It's what got me thinking about water and survival."
Belle bounced excitedly on her heels at the praise, clasping her hands together. "The traps you set for Felix were very impressive," she told Emma. "If you like, I can teach you more about plants and you can teach me about traps." Emma nodded and Belle pat the seat beside her. "It must feel very...overwhelming. To feel like you should know this but don't."
"Huh?" Emma asked. Belle gestured to the plants and wildlife around them. "Oh, because I live in the forest. Yeah, we had clean and water, but it was Killian who taught me about how to filter water from a stream and stuff. Luckily, we had the filtration bits in the tab, they just needed to be activated."
"But you were smart enough to look for it," Belle said warmly. She stopped looking at the plants for a moment before she shifted, frowning at the game makers behind them.
"Pan's not here, is he?" Emma groaned, turning around. Pan wasn't there, just Hades and his wife admiring the proceeding. Belle took a nearby acorn and threw it in their general direction. A rippling passed in front of Hades and Persephone. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to shake her head. "Was the force field humming always that loud?" she muttered lowly.
She glowered up at Pan, her heart slamming against her chest. If they weren’t going to watch her, she’d make them watch her. Putting both hands on the sword’s hilt, she raised her arms back. “Hey!” she yelled, throwing the sword as hard as she could.
The sword whizzed back Pan and stuck into the wall in the back, the sound ringing around the now silent room. All the men turned back to stare at her, mouths agape. Except for Pan. He looked absolutely delight with that show of force.
"What a minute," she murmured breathlessly. "There wasn't a force field last year." She sighed, rolling her eyes. "I didn't even hit any of them with the sword, there's no need for a force field!"
Belle looked like she had only been half-listening. "The indignity!" the brunette exclaimed, her brow furrowing as her eyes darted across the force field.
"The indignity of a force field? I mean, I don't know if I'd call it an indignity, I guess Game Makers need to be safe too..."
"No," Belle explained, looking over at Emma. She ran a hand through her hair. "I'm an inventor, and I'd presented them with a similar concept a few months ago. They just...took my design specs and made them poorly."
"How can you tell?" Emma asked.
"I'm going to ask you to close your eyes and listen," Belle instructed. "And when I put an acorn in your hand, I want you to throw it at wherever you think the force field is."
"Okay..." Emma figured that if Belle was trying to kill her that acorn would be the least effective way to go, and hopefully the Mistguard would stop her if it looked like she was getting too close to being successful. So she closed her eyes and listened.
Directly above her, there was a low-toned buzz. And then she heard it: it was a higher, intermittent buzz as if the energy seemed to start and stop. So she took her acorn at through. There was a frying sound, followed by a noise that sounded very much like a window screen being rippled by the wind.
"Nicely done," Belle replied when Emma opened her eyes. "My specs wouldn't have made a noise on impact." She snorted when the lights in the training center briefly flickered. "Or required this much power but Gold was never one to listen to me."
"So then there must be a weak spot to this," Emma realized slowly. She was not remotely in the mood to even begin processing the second half of Belle's statement, but if Belle had an in with Gold that could be something she could use to her advantage.
"Go on, see if you can figure it out," Belle encouraged, standing up and pulling Emma up with her. Emma walked underneath the force field, listening to the humming.
And then...silence.
Emma's eyes flew open again. She gently prodded the forcefield and found there was no resistance. "So the weak spot is where the humming stops..." She thought about how much damage the arena for the Hunger Games would take, and where the arena could afford to be weak for a moment before it came to her. "The top of the arena!" she hissed excitedly. "That's the weak spot in the Hunger Games arena! Because that's where the helicarriers come in and out so that has to be flexible!"
Belle just smiled proudly. "Now, come on!" she encouraged. "You promised to teach me something!"
--
The second day of training, Emma felt more confident in her survival skills and so she headed over to the training section first. She gleefully eyed the sword that she'd wielded the last time and took some practice, experimental swings with it, trying to get her bearings once again. She knew she was not as experienced with a sword as some of the others were, but she was pretty handy with a dagger when the situation called for it.
"Hello, Emma."
She didn't need to know who it was that was speaking. The chill had raced up her spine and nearly stopped her in her tracks. She forced herself to keep her tone cool as she took in a deep breath. "Hello, James," she said pleasantly.
"What do you mean? I'm David," James said, pretending to be shocked and hurt. "You can trust me."
"Cut the crap, James," Emma replied, annoyed as she took another lunge with the sword, just testing out its weight. "Your voice has got a higher cadence than David's. Not by much, but it's enough for me to know that you're not David."
James chuckled, leaning against the railing. "You know, when you two won I thought maybe it was a fluke, that Whale just got incredibly lucky with a crop of idiot Tributes. But you're smart. This should be fun for all of us."
"Yeah, I'm having oodles of fun so far," Emma said dryly. "It's a fun-a-polooza."
"Is everything okay here?" There was David's voice.
"Yep!" Emma grunted as she gave the sword an experimental thrust. "James and I were just talking about how much fun we're having here in the Hunger Games. Might as well call in the Fun-ger Games because I think I'm just having way too much fun!"
The sarcasm in her voice caused James and David to let out identical snorts before they turned away from each other.
"Well, if you're looking for a sparring partner, I'm pretty handy with a sword," David offered. James just smirked at David before stalking away to do...well who only knew what.
"Umm...actually," Emma started, prepared to send David away. But looking at him, she kind of relished the opportunity to challenge someone in a low stakes area. And she knew David. He wasn't hovering, he was still giving her the chance to decide what she wanted for herself.
Besides, the night before at dinner, Killian had all but gushed about how helpful it was to have sparred with both Snow and David, and how they'd both given him some incredibly helpful corrections on his form and where to hold his weight.
"Okay," she agreed, tilting her head toward the arena. "Show me what you got!"
David beamed at her before grabbing a longer and heavier sword for himself.
They stepped into the ring and Emma bounced eagerly from foot to foot as she waited for the countdown to begin. David just smiled and extended his sword to her.
Every time their swords, Emma could feel the strength that David seemed to hold just below the surface. She felt like she was putting her whole weight into her strikes and he seemingly had no problem holding her off.
But he wasn’t finishing the fight. It almost seemed like he was finding ways to get her to try and strike again, and that only made her more frustrated. She kept trying to change her tactics the way Whale had taught her to do, but David seemed ready for a perfectly well-timed block by the time she got there.
And still, he never lunged.
Finally, she saw an opening where she could duck in like she did during her spars with Whale and Killian. As soon as she led in with her right foot, David was right there, sweeping his leg underneath her. Emma crashed to the floor of the training ring and David gently tapped her with the sword.
He chuckled as the ring announced him as the winner of the spar.
“Good fight,” David told her, extending his arm. Rolling her eyes she took his arm and let him pull her up. “Look, I can give you some pointers if you want to improve,” he said gently. “That wasn’t a bad match at all.”
“Yeah, except for the part where you were holding back,” Mulan said dryly, leaning forward against the railing of the training ring. “The only thing she’s gonna learn from you is how to get herself killed.”
“I’ve got this, Mulan,” David replied, holding his hand out to Mulan to try and stop her from saying anything further. “It’s not the first time I’ve had to teach someone something, you know.”
“Yeah, and you’re not the only Hunger Games Victor here,” Mulan replied, still holding that dry tone of voice, but there was a lightness in it. “There’s more than one way to finish a fight.”
“Be my guest,” David said, holding his hands up in surrender. He started to hand the sword over to Mulan, but she shook her head, grabbing a pole.
Emma groaned, suddenly remembered Whale’s training in the back of the woods and how he’d chosen the stick specifically because he knew he didn’t need a weapon to knock her and Killian around. “Ugh, I’m going to get my butt kicked right now, aren’t I?” she asked.
“That’s mainly up to you,” Mulan pointed out with a little smirk. “Go on, come at me.”
Emma had only taken one step before she landed flat on her back with the pole on the center of her chest. Her cheeks turned a little pink as she looked up at Mulan, stunned and impressed at how quickly the other woman had knocked her out. There was a small smirk on Mulan’s face that reminded her of Whale’s when they were training back in the forest. “Not again,” she complained, thunking her head against the floor of the training center.
“Your eyes gave you away before you could ever attack,” Mulan told her, helping her up.
“I could’ve told her that!” David protested.
“You could’ve, but you didn’t, and not telling her wouldn’t have done her any good,” Mulan pointed out flatly, looking over her shoulder at David. Then she turned back to look at Emma, repositioning herself. “Now try again. Don’t aim for any one spot.”
Emma nodded, and was only able to get half a turn in before she landed flat on her stomach this time. She let out a grunt of frustration before getting back up. “Eyes again?” she asked, and Mulan nodded.
Before taking her next step, she stepped in a circle, her eyes never leaving Mulan’s. Then she stepped closer, raised her sword and then tried to strike. Mulan quickly blocked and almost immediately struck Emma again, sending Emma tumbling to her butt.
A crowd was beginning to form around them, but Emma wasn’t deterred. If anything, it motivated her to get it right so that she wouldn’t embarrass herself in front of all of them. “What happened that time?” she asked.
“Your swing is too wide,” Mulan said. “And it exposes your weak point and makes it easy for me to throw your entire balance off.” She looked Emma dead in the eye and added, “That sword is an extension of you. It is not your enemy and it is not a means to an end. Move with it like it’s part of you. It’s finishing your thoughts.”
“If only the sword could read my thoughts,” Emma muttered.
Mulan narrowed her eyes at Emma. “You are going to have to use your sword this year. You may have not really needed it last year, but I can guarantee you that you’re going to this year. And you better be prepared for it.”
Emma nodded grimly. “I’ll get it right this time,” she promised, moving her weight from knee to knee. She spun inward to use her shoulder as leverage to try and wedge the pole out of Mulan’s hand. When Mulan’s grip on it slipped a little, Emma used the hilt of her sword to dislodge in the rest of the way, which sent the pole flying out of Mulan’s hand.
Mulan was no less vicious without a sword, lunging forward to try and take Emma’s out of her hand. But Emma spun the other way so that Mulan was grabbing at nothing. She sunk underneath Mulan and drove her elbow as hard as she could into Mulan’s solar plexus, sending Mulan sprawling to the floor.
Emma stood triumphantly over Mulan, and gently tapped her chest with the end of the sword. “How was that?” she asked, her eyes glimmering happily. She offered her hand to Mulan.
“Much better,” Mulan said, taking it and pulling herself up. “You learn quick. I can tell Whale didn’t teach you to use your body as a weapon as well. You clearly must’ve learned that from sparring with a different partner.” Her gaze flickered past them to Killian, who was watching Emma with pride and admiration in his eyes.
“Well, if the sword is an extension of my body then my body is an equally effective weapon,” Emma shrugged and she could’ve sworn she heard Mulan laugh a little bit.
“Please,” a voice scoffed. Arthur Pendragon, the other Tribute from District 3, had also been watching the sparring session. “She’s not learned anything that can be any sort of useful, especially not from another girl.”
Mulan rolled her eyes, clearly used to this kind of talk from Arthur, but Emma didn’t mind taking the bait this once. “Then why don’t you come in here and show me how it’s done?” Emma taunted, flourishing her sword. “Unless you’re scared?”
“It would be my pleasure,” Arthur growled, grabbing one of the other swords and stepping to the ring.
“Emma, I—” Mulan started, looking a little nervously between Arthur and Emma.
“Don’t worry,” David said from where he’d been watching. “She’s got this.”
Mulan stared at Emma apprehensively before barking out a, “Don’t you dare lose.” She left the ring and stood beside Killian.
Emma and Arthur began circling each other for a while. His eyes never left her face, but Emma saw his chest begin to turn, as indication that he was going to strike. Quick as anything, she slammed her sword into his side—what would’ve been a lethal blow had it actually been a real sword—before spinning around and striking his leg when he slipped.
Arthur crashed to his knees almost immediately and Emma stuck her sword under his chin so that Arthur was looking up at her.
“So,” Emma said with a smirk of her own. “What was that about not learning anything useful?”
“Beginner’s luck!” Arthur snarled, shoving her away as he stepped out of the ring, but he didn’t return for a rematch.
Mulan stared at her, absolutely slack jawed.
--
“Well, you two have made yourselves very popular,” Whale reported as he came in carrying a very large gift basket. “The gift baskets have been pouring in for both of you nonstop since your training session yesterday. I have it on good authority that Emma put on quite the show with her swordsmanship.”
“Who’s that from?” Emma asked, tilting her head toward the basket, as she munched on a piece of chocolate that came from one of the other gift baskets.
“Arthur Pendragon,” Whale read the name off the card.
“Hell no,” Emma and Killian said in unison.
Whale’s eyebrows shot up. “I take it you have it in mind who you want.”
“I want Mulan,” Emma said.
“That’s surprisingly practical of you, Emma,” Whale started.
“And I want Belle. And Killian. And Granny. And that’s it.”
“I see we got a little less practical at the end there,” Whale remarked. “Killian, what about you?”
“I also want Mulan,” Killian replied. “She’s a fierce lass and clearly knows what she’s doing. But I choose Snow, David, Robin, and Regina.”
“Regina?” Emma protested, putting her chocolate bar down. “No. No way. Why Regina?”
“Because Regina’s from District 1 and is the daughter of the Mayor in her District,” Killian said patiently. “Those will be the sponsors we can target for a greater advantage.”
“Yeah, or Regina will sell us out to the Career Pack the first chance she gets!” Emma grumbled, folding her arms over her chest.
“You’re not willing to trust Regina, but you’d trust Mulan, who—might I remind you—is just as eligible for the Career Pack?” Killian asked, raising his eyebrow at her.
“Yes!” Emma shot back. Killian’s nostrils flared as he forced himself to take a deep breath, and Emma took a deep breath too. “Sorry. I don’t mean to belittle your choice. I just…Regina gets under my skin. Plus, if we have Mulan and Regina, you and me? We might just be attracting too much attention to ourselves.”
“Did she just come up with a rational argument instead of screaming at you?” Whale asked, looking at Killian, his eyes practically bugging out of his head. “Teach me how to do that.” Emma threw him a withering scowl and he only laughed at her.
“Well, I can see you two still have a lot of discussing to do. I’ll just tell everyone you’re still deciding,” Whale chuckled. “I, for one, can’t wait to see the rest of these discussions.”
A muscle in Killian’s jaw ticked but he didn’t say anything else.
Chapter 21
Notes:
I'm at the mercy of my whims of when I want to post more chapters/even write more chapters. You guys are still one full chapter behind me so if I can get some more distance between what I've posted and what I have maybe we'll be in a good place again? My goal is to finish this part before NaNoWriMo this year so I can start, but not finish, Part 3.
That cackling you hear is 2015!me laughing at 2021!me for starting this endeavor. But it'll be worth it.
Also, I hurt my own feelings with this chapter so I look forward to hurting yours too...enjoy!
Chapter Text
“Really, couldn’t they change up the order of events?” Emma asked, staring at the bleak and awfully familiar four walls of the holding room. It was evaluation day, and while everyone was leaving them alone for the most part, Emma could feel everyone’s eyes on her. She knew so many people were waiting on their responses for allyship.
She didn’t trust most of the people that asked. Especially not Regina and Robin.
And the more she thought about how David hadn’t really used his full strength when sparring with her in the training center, the less she began to trust David and Snow. What purpose would he have for holding back if they were training? The only reason she could come up with was so that she’d be surprised by his strength later when it was time to kill her.
Killian, though he hadn’t said so, seemed annoyed by her suspicions. She was glad they could agree on Mulan, but every time he’d try to add Regina, Snow, Robin or David, Emma would get fired up and they’d fight again.
He’d mostly left the matter alone, but she could tell by the slump of his shoulder that it weighed on his mind. She made a promise to herself to make it right to him before they went to the arena.
So, she started by sitting beside him and squeezing his hand gently. When he looked at her in surprise, she gently pressed his forehead against his with a soft smile. He smiled back and nudged his head with hers.
“District 7. Jones, Killian.”
Emma didn’t say anything to him, she just very gently squeezed his hand again before sending him on his way.
Once again, there was no clock on the room. But even without it, Emma could tell that Killian had been gone for a long time. Snow and David kept looking over their shoulder at her. Grumpy had very loudly begun complaining about how long it was taking Killian and how rude it was to the others who were waiting.
“What do you want me to do?” Emma snapped. “He’s in there and I’m not!”
“District 7. Swan, Emma.”
Emma exhaled through her nose.
Great.
Knowing she’d already be at a disadvantage if she tried to go into this without a clear head, she took in a few deep breaths. Shaking her head and a few of her limbs, she stepped into the training center once more.
Gone was Pan’s jovial look. He was glowering at something, but it didn’t seem to be Emma. She turned to see Mistguards furiously scrubbing away at something.
Upon a closer examination, it was clear that Kililan had used to resources around him to do a mural of Imani as Emma had last left her. Any irritation she’d felt before seemed to all but vanish, and just reaffirmed that Killian was the only person in this arena that she could really trust. Her heart soared and she gave the picture a small and fond smile before turning her head back to Pan with a clear challenge in her eyes.
They had killed Imani. They had brought her back here. And once again, they were underestimating her. She wanted to make it clear to everyone that she was not to be trifled with again.
Peter Pan seemed unfazed. “You’ll have five minutes to show us what you’ve got. After which, we will evaluate your performance and release it in a few hours’ time,” Peter Pan explained coolly, never breaking eye contact with her. Emma did not move. She was not afraid of this man, not anymore. “You may begin.”
Emma saw two makeshift dummies, and put them on her knees. Grabbing red berries, she mashed them into a red paste on one, she put “Lir” and on the other she put “Fyren”. Feeling extra petty, she put the 12 under Lir’s name and the 11 under Fyren’s name.
Grabbing her sword, she took both the dummies’ heads off with one clean swing. Then, she turned around on her heel and marched back out of the room not even waiting to see what Pan’s reaction was or even if she was done with the evaluation.
When she emerged, the entire team was waiting for her.
“Hey, cherub, how’d it…?” Whale started and then looked at her hands. “What happened to your hands?”
She looked at her hands, which a bloody shade of red. “Oh. How about that,” she said noncommittedly. Killian all but flew to her side and began to carefully inspect her hands. “It’s paint; I’m fine,” she explained to all of them.
This did not alleviate Whale’s anxiety in the slightest. If anything, he narrowed his eyes at her even harder. “What did you do?” he asked firmly.
Killian caught Emma’s eyes and she gave him a little smile to let him know that she had seen his painting. “Well, after Killian painted Imani on the floor—”
“You did what?” Whale turned to Killian, who only shrugged.
“I got mad because…well, they’re the whole reason Imani is dead, aren’t they? And they keep blaming me for all this stuff, so…” She paused, her eyes flickering to Tink for a moment. “I…” She half-rolled her head, trying to avoid talking about Lir.
“Emma, what is it?” Whale asked, looking more and more unamused with each passing second.
“I maybe might’ve made an allusion to the two mayors that are…missing,” Emma said, wincing as she did so.
“It’s all right, dear,” Tink replied softly. “I know that they’re dead. You can tell me.”
“I might’ve put their names on two of the training dummies and then chopped their heads off?” Emma asked hesitantly.
Tink and Whale began screaming almost exactly at the same time. There were many uses of her name, indignant cries asking what she thought she was doing, a hard line of questioning as to why she did that, and frankly several words from Whale that were not appropriate for repetition.
“Well, I suppose that was only fitting, giving that I painted Imani for my evaluation,” Killian said, once they’d calmed. Which only set the two of them off again, shrieking and ranting at the pair of them. Killian looked distinctly unbothered by the whole thing as he checked Emma’s hands one last time for signs of injury.
“Children!” Whale finally exploded. “What the hell were you thinking? Are you trying to get yourselves killed? You know this is gonna get out and I’m going to have to convince others to be your ally instead of the other way around!”
A wave of despair immediately crashed over Emma. Any attempt at being genuine had long been lost in this Game she was tired of playing. Gold was surely going to hear about what she’d done in her evaluation and he’d find a way to make sure she was dead. She knew this. And the more she thought about Whale’s insistence that they play allies, the angrier she got. She didn’t know those other 22 people and they certainly did not know her.
And she was starting to think that Whale didn’t know her either.
And that made her the maddest she’d been so far in the Games. But it also made her the saddest she’d ever been. If she couldn’t trust Whale to keep her safe, then she really had no one on the outside that she could put her faith in.
For the first time since she’d been Reaped, she truly felt like an orphan again.
But rather than let Whale see her hurt, she scrambled to put up a defense, as if to try and one-up her mentor in a game he probably wasn’t even aware he was playing.
“Good,” Emma said flatly, arching her eyebrow. “Because I’ve decided: and I don’t want anyone in the arena besides Killian. I refuse to work with anyone that isn’t Killian.”
Silence reigned over the group for a full minute.
Whale brought his hands together and took in a deep breath. “I cannot stress to you how terrible and idiotic of a decision that is,” he replied, slowly saying each word as if it would do something to convince her to change her mind.
“I don’t care!” Emma replied, her hands curling into fists as she started to get fired up again. “These may be your friends, Whale, but they sure as hell aren’t mine!” She clenched her jaw as she considered the last few weeks, and Whale's reactions to the whole thing. “I don’t trust them and I don’t trust you enough to keep us alive over your friends!” she spat at him furiously.
“Emma…” Whale started, looking genuinely hurt.
“Don’t 'Emma' me!” Emma shouted angrily, looking up at him. “All week you’ve been pushing us toward people that we don’t even know! People whose end goal is for them to be alive and for us to be dead because they have families to get back to!” Tears pricked at her eyes and she said viciously, full well knowing that her mentor didn’t believe it but just wanting it to hurt, “You’re probably thankful that you got the two orphans! It means you don’t have to look any kids in the eye except Henry, but you’ll probably just pawn him off when this is over and never think about him again!”
With that, she rushed past all of them and back to the apartments. She flung herself into the bed and curled up into the tightest ball possible, letting out a sob. When the door opened, she curled in tighter on herself trying to keep away from Killian when he sat beside her on the bed. He didn’t try to take her into his arms, but she did let him stroke her shoulder gently.
“You’re going to have to apologize to Whale,” he started simply.
“No, I don’t,” Emma croaked out, hiding her face. “Whose side are you on?”
“Yours, love,” Killian reminded her. “But I don’t think you’ve been entirely fair to Whale. What did he do to deserve those accusations, hmm?” He rhythmically stroked her shoulder as she sniffled. “Emma, I need you to be honest with me: are you really feeling that way about the other Victors?”
“Yeah,” she sniffled, her breath hitching. “When you were in your evaluation session, it felt like everyone’s eyes were on me and not in an eager way. It felt like they were watching me, waiting to see what I’d do next.” She swallowed the lump in her throat as she looked up at him. “Killian, they all know each other. They’ve all known each other for a while. They trust each other and they’ve defended each other before. They have nothing to gain from protecting us other than sponsors and most of them can get plenty of sponsors on their own. I don’t trust it.”
Killian considered this for a moment, still stroking her shoulder. “Okay,” he finally decided. “No allies. We do this on our own.” She unfurled a little bit, and he gathered her close so he could hold her against his chest. She nuzzled there for a moment, her body still hitching with little cries.
He quietly stroked her back and let her cry for a while. When her breathing settled down, he asked her, “Are you okay, Emma?”
“What part about this is okay?” she asked tiredly, letting her eyes flutter shut for a moment. “How am I supposed to be okay after anything we’ve been through or seen?”
She could feel his half-hearted laugh as his chest gently jostled her head. “Fair enough, love,” he murmured gently before placing a kiss to her temple. “What I meant was…you’ve been very…” He sighed, clearly not knowing how to articulate his thoughts.
Which surprised her a little bit as he was normally the verbose one between the two of them.
She sat up straight and looked up at him, rubbing her eyes. “I’ve been what?” she asked, careful to keep her voice even so she wouldn’t drive him into a fight.
“I just feel like you’re pushing everyone away lately. People you’ve claimed to love and trust. Me, Whale, Snow, David…bloody hell, you just told Whale he’d just give up on Henry after you died when you know he won’t,” Killian started, gently cupping her face in his hand. “And…even just talking about the reality where you won’t be here…it seems like you’re giving up. And that worries me a lot, love. I hate to see that fight leave your eyes, Emma. And I’m terrified of what it will mean if you let that fight go all the way out.”
“It comes and goes in waves,” Emma admitted quietly, resting her head on his shoulders. “My desire to fight. I had it during the evaluation but as soon as Whale yelled at me again about trying to play by the rules and play ally…I lost it again. And I don’t even know what I’m fighting for anymore…I keep trying to play this Game that I never asked to be a part of, and I keep losing. And I’m worried that if I keep playing, I’ll lose. And someone will really get hurt.”
Killian nodded against her head. “I’ll make a deal, Swan. I’ll fight for you, and you can fight for me. And when we get out of this, we can focus on the particulars of what else we can and should be fighting for, all right?”
She nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. He always knew what to do, always knew how to take the burden and make it seem manageable.
“Is that enough?” Killian asked gently, tilting her chin up so she’d look at him.
“It’ll have to be,” she shrugged listlessly before leaning back against him. He sighed and held her closer to him, gently rocking her back and forth. Her eyes fluttered shut again under the gentle motions and ministrations. “Killian?” she whispered, her voice croaking. “I’m tired.”
“Then rest, love,” Killian urged gently. “I’ve got you, and you know I won’t go anywhere.”
“It’s not that kind of tired,” she replied sadly. Her eyes fluttered open again so she could look up at Killian. He gave her an incredibly sad smile and gave her the gentlest of squeezes.
“I know, love,” he said softly. “I know it’s not really that kind of tired. But perhaps some rest might do you good anyways. Things might look better after a nap.”
“Will you stay with me?” Emma asked. Sniffling, she added, “I promise I’ll apologize to Whale after we rest.”
Killian chuckled and kissed the top of her head once more. “I’d expect no less.”
She shifted a little bit more comfortably against his chest so she could feel the steady rise and fall of his breath and listened to his heartbeat. As she just lay there in his arms, ruminating over the past couple of hours, her mind went back to the beautiful painting that Killian had done. “Killian?”
“Aye, love?”
“I’m sorry they scrubbed out your portrait of Imani. It really was beautiful,” Emma murmured. Where Killian’s breaths had been deep and steady, Emma did her best to recall what Imani’s breathing had sounded like.
Shallower, maybe. It always seemed like Imani needed to take faster breaths…
Her eyes blurred with tears as if her mind had to bring her to that place once again. “Killian?” she sniffled. “Do you…do you ever think about them?” His thumb came to brush her tears away as best they could with the position that they were laying in.
“I think of Imani and Morgarzea. I occasionally think of Smee…” Killian said softly. “I think of Felix quite a bit. Why do you ask, Emma?”
“I just…” Emma sighed shakily. Once the floodgates had opened, it seemed that they couldn’t or wouldn’t stop and that she would just keep crying forever. Though, quite frankly, she’d give anything to stop crying just so she could feel like she had a handle on her emotions. “Do you ever feel guilty that you made it out and they didn’t?”
The whole room seemed to still as Killian did. His face twisted into a sad grimace, and he looked away from her as he quietly admitted, “Aye. I often wonder if I really would’ve made it on my own had it not been for you. If I’d deprived one of them of a life of meaning because I made it out and they didn’t.”
Emma opened her eyes so she could seek out his hand. Once she found it, she twined their fingers together and brought his hand to her lips for the gentlest of kisses imaginable. “I feel guilty too,” she admitted softly. “Like…all the time. I know if I hadn’t won there wouldn’t be so much trouble in the Districts.”
“I don’t know if you can blame yourself entirely for that, Emma,” Killian reasoned, leaning back against the headboard with her safely pressed against him. But his smile was still so sad. “However…I can’t say that I don’t feel the same way. About myself, though. Obviously not about you, love.”
“You always say such beautiful things about me,” Emma muttered sadly.
“Because I believe them,” Killian replied honestly.
Emma took in a sharp breath, trying to speak past the lump in her throat and desperately failing. The last few days, being back in the Capitol, as a Tribute again, seemed to evoke more emotion than she ever could’ve possibly anticipated. “I don’t know if any good people win the Hunger Games,” she whispered. “There’s a lot of darkness that makes up a Hunger Games winner.”
“The difference is, love,” Killian told her honestly. “That you have not let the darkness conquer you. Not yet.” She didn’t look at him when he spoke again, but she didn’t need to. She could hear the conviction in his voice and it warmed her, “You, Emma Swan…you are an incredibly brave, bold and caring person. And while you may not believe in the best of yourself, I will always believe in the best of you for as long as I draw breath in this body. I have no idea what I did to deserve you, but I thank my lucky stars every day that I found you.”
Emma frowned, thinking of all the times she had wished she’d done more to support Killian like he supported her. So she sat up straight, hoping that she could make this count. If it really was going to be one of the last days she had left alive, then she was going to damn well make sure it counted.
“Killian,” Emma said firmly, in a tone that boded no room for argument and no room for alternate interpretation. “You are, without a doubt, one of the best people I know. Before I really got to know you, you were Henry’s hero and before I really knew you it was enough that you made my brother smile.”
“But now? You’re the person I look to when I need advice or comfort. I always am looking for your reaction or your input because it matters to me. You have good things to say and you’re so clever and brave. You told me once that I needed to remember that you were a Hunger Games winner too. Once was all I needed. And we won that Hunger Games together. So...if I win and I’m good that means you must be good too because you didn’t do anything that Games that I hadn’t or wouldn’t have done.”
“Well, there’s still this Game, don’t count me out just yet, love,” Killian replied softly but there was a playfulness rather than a self-loathing in his tone.
Emma laughed joyfully, a little smile on her face. She sat up a little bit straight so she could smile down at him, “No matter what happens to us in there, I will always believe in you. I will always believe that you are a good man with the best heart of anyone I’ve ever known.” She took his hand and held it against her chest. “As long as this beats and as long as I’m breathing, I will see you for the good man that you are, Killian.”
She could see the tears sparkling in Killian’s eyes. She opened her mouth to apologize, but he quickly silenced her with a tender kiss, which she gratefully returned.
When they broke apart, she murmured softly, “I’m very sorry we’re not getting married for real.”
“Aye,” he agreed, softly, his thumb dragging gently across her cheek. “So am I.”
--
After a brief nap, the two joined Whale and Tink in the living room. No one said anything at first and Emma knew she had to break the ice between the two of them.
“I owe you an apology,” Emma sighed, sitting beside her mentor. “I said some stuff that was really unfair and not true, and you didn’t deserve that. I’m sorry.”
“I forgive you,” Whale said quietly. He looked her over once before adding softly, “Y’know,” he said quietly. “In retrospect, it probably was a little unfair to ask two young people who lost their parents at such a young age to kill people who have children.”
“In your defense, Whale, I didn’t lose my father. He disappeared on Liam and I and I quite hope I never find him again,” Killian snarked.
Whale let out a bark of a laugh in spite of himself. “At any rate,” he said. “If you really want no allies, then fine. No allies. I don’t agree with it, but you two should probably have a little say in your own destiny.”
“Thanks, Whale,” Emma mumbled softly, curling into Killian’s side. Her eyes fluttered shut again. She wasn’t sure how she could be so tired after having just slept, but Killian’s fingers running against the skin on her arm did nothing to keep her awake.
“The scores are on, love,” Killian murmured into Emma’s hair. She let out a noncommittal grunt to acknowledge that he had said something, but she had no interest in actually watching the whole thing. She already knew that the threat was…just about everyone. After that, it was just a matter of figuring out who was her biggest concern.
As they went through, no one was scoring lower than an 8. Even Isaac, who didn’t seem like much of a threat in Emma’s eyes, scored a 9.
“Robin Hood from District 6…with a score of 10,” Spindle announced.
Emma decided at least seeing her own score was worth watching, so she very unwillingly cracked open one eye.
“Emma Swan from District 7…with a score of 12,” Spindle declared. “Goodness, folks! Our favorite Swan has scored the highest possible amount on her evaluation! Give her a hand.”
Emma sat up straight, staring at the screen in horror. “But I didn’t even do anything for my evaluation,” she blurted out.
“Killian Jones from District 7…also with a score of 12!” Spindle cheered. “Looks like they’ll be the one to beat, folks!”
Emma and Killian exchanged a confused blook, both clearly thinking the same thing: they hadn’t actually done anything for their evaluations. So why were their scores so high?
And then it hit Emma like a ton of bricks.
It wasn’t about their skills in their evaluation. Their actions were enough to make them a threat. And once again, Gold and Pan retaliated by making the targets on their backs even bigger.
“Well,” Whale snarked into his glass of whisky. “You both aren’t gonna have to worry about allies anymore. Cuz everyone in that arena is gonna team up to kill you. Congrats.”
Chapter 22
Notes:
Well, you're officially all caught up to me. I wanted to share this chapter but also share that writing is hard. Things are hard and I am just doing the best that I can. I appreciate anyone who has stuck with me this long, and even since I started working on this series five years ago. I don't know when I'm gonna update again because I don't have time to write, but I've been reading all your comments and enjoying your predictions and your worries.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Merlin entered her room, a garment bag in his hands. She opened her mouth but he cut her off before she could even ask, “No, this isn’t your suit. But hopefully, you’ll like this enough to make up for it.”
Emma nearly teased him but was shocked by the tears glimmering in his eyes. So, she leaned back in her chair and asked softly, “What is it then?”
“Your wedding dress,” Merlin said simply. She stood up as he slowly opened the garment bag so she could get a better look at it. It was a stunning dress with a v-neck that just flowed straight down. The top was completely beaded with pearls and crystals before the design changed. The beading then changed at the waistline to make it look like the dress was made of feathers when it wasn’t.
“Merlin, it’s beautiful,” she whispered, her eyes filling with tears. “And it’s mine?”
“No, it’s for the other Swansong that was gonna get married,” Merlin teased, his eyes filling with tears of his own. He smiled sadly as he turned to look at the dress. “I wish you were wearing this under different circumstances…” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “I was going to give you your suit, but the orders came from Gold.”
“Merlin, it’s okay,” Emma soothed, taking the dress out of the garment bag with the utmost love and care. “I’m happy to wear anything you make me. You know that.” She smirked thinly, not feeling that much effort and energy going into it. “Besides. This is my last opportunity to make Gold pay and I’m gonna take every chance I get.”
“For someone who wasn’t feeling like they should be part of a revolution, you sure have been swinging a lot of punches lately,” Merlin pointed out.
“I don’t think my dress is really, like, on the same level as what’s going on in some of the Districts,” Emma pointed out. She smiled brightly as Titania and Mab came in, but it quickly fell when it was clear that they’d both been crying.
“I’ll let them help you get dressed,” Merlin said kindly, leaving Emma with his two assistants. She was completely bewildered as Titania and Mab just stared at her for a moment before they began their work.
“Is everything okay?” Emma asked kindly. “Did someone die?”
Apparently, this was not the best thing to ask as they both stared at her in utter disbelief for a moment before they went to fix her up, tears silently trailing down their cheeks. The dress was easy enough to put on. All she had to do was step into it, slip her arms into the sleeves and Titania zipped her up.
“Oh, Emma, I—” Tink opened the door to her dressing room but stopped in her tracks upon seeing Emma in her wedding dress.
“How do I look, Tink?” Emma asked, giving her Capitol Ambassador a shy little smile. She’d only ever worn dresses for the press for the Games, and she hoped she looked as beautiful as she felt. But Tink had been so excited about the engagement, and if truth be told Emma had been looking forward to Tink being at the wedding and seeing her and Killian get married.
Tink immediately burst into tears as she walked over toward Emma. Her hands shook as they smoothed out the invisible wrinkles in Emma’s dress. “Oh, my darling girl,” she choked out. “You are truly the most beautiful bride.”
While Titania and Mab wove Emma’s hair into an interwoven updo, Tink attached the comb that was attached to the veil. Emma had only seen the comb briefly: just a simple array of jeweled feathers. And though Tink’s entire body seemed to be shaking with the force of her cries, her hands were steady as it affixed the veil to her.
When they were done, they helped her up onto a pedestal so she could look at herself in the mirror. But Emma found she couldn’t really look at herself, she was looking at their tear-stained faces.
Watching Titania, Mab, and Tink all fight their intense emotions nestled into Emma’s heart in a way that surprised her. She was loud and abrasive, everything the Capitol wasn’t. When she looked at other citizens of the Capitol, she thought they loved her for what they saw on television.
But the three of them? They’d seen Emma crabby and bratty and vicious. They’d seen her when she was pouting and crossing her arms. They’d seen her half asleep and fully uncooperative. But they didn’t care. They still loved her just the same and they were fully distraught at the thought of losing her.
So she turned to face them, her lip wobbling a little bit. “Thank you,” she murmured, standing in front of them. Her eyes glistened a bit and she sniffled, trying to control her own tears. “I…I would’ve never looked this beautiful without you.”
“I don’t know about that.” Merlin’s choked voice grabbed her attention, and even he seemed overwhelmed.
“They just did the make-up, you can’t do this,” Emma half sobbed, desperately trying to hold onto a laugh that wasn’t there. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she added, “You’ve really outdone yourself this time, Merlin.”
But Merlin knew what her tears were really about. “A lot of people love you, Swansong,” he murmured, coming to step in front of her. She could barely stand to see Merlin’s eyes so filled with tears, so she reached out and grabbed his hands, squeezing them as hard as she could.
“No one,” she said in a shaky voice. “No one could’ve been a better friend to me than you, Merlin.” A couple of tears slipped from her eyes and Merlin dabbed at them with his handkerchief. But his hands were shaking, and the tears were falling down his cheeks too.
Merlin stood there for a moment looking at her. He let a few more tears escape his eyes before he shook his head. “I’ve got one more instruction for you,” he told her, his voice clear even though his eyes were still a little watery.
“You wouldn’t be you otherwise,” Emma teased, letting Titania and Mab quickly fix her makeup.
“When the moment is right, there’s a cord affixed to your bodice,” Merlin instructed with a firm nod. “Pull it.”
“Why?” Emma asked suspiciously.
“For the aesthetic,” Merlin said with a shrug. Emma wanted to ask him to elaborate on that but she didn’t have time as Whale walked into the room.
“Well holy shit, you look like a million bucks!” Whale exclaimed, leaning back against the doorframe. “C’mon, kid. You ready for your interview?”
“Yeah,” Emma shrugged. Merlin held out his hand and helped her step down from the pedestal. “Any last words of advice for me?”
Whale smiled a little bit wryly but there was a proud gleam in his eyes. “There’s gonna be a lot of anger in that room tonight. And everyone is gonna say something to try and get the Games canceled. But I don’t want you to do that. I want you to play up the last lovers thing. Wounded eyes, all of that.”
“Wouldn’t it be in my best interest if I appeal to their better nature?” Emma asked.
“Best case scenario, everyone else’s pleading works and they cancel the Quarter Quell. Worst case scenario? You’re going back in there in two days and I’m not letting you just go in there with just your pretty looks. Because people are gonna want to pay to see you and Killian stay together. And we are fully operating under the worst-case scenario,” Whale explained.
Emma followed him out to go see Killian, but Whale stopped her. “One more thing,” he added with a grimace. “All of the other Tributes are gonna be on stage together, watching each other’s interviews. Except you.”
“Why? Why do they keep doing this?” Emma asked in exasperation.
“You know why,” Whale replied. “They want Killian to see your dress for the first time on camera. They want everyone to see it on camera for the first time.”
“And they probably don’t want me conspiring with anyone either,” Emma huffed, rolling her eyes.
“Now you’re getting it,” Whale responded. “It won’t be all that bad. They’ve got a whole station back there for you and everyone is prepared to bend over backward so they can kiss your ass.”
“What a delightfully colorful description, Whale,” Emma said wryly. She sighed, wishing she could be with Killian but knowing that she couldn’t and there was no point. “Okay. Let’s go,” she sighed, tossing her head back.
--
Being stuck backstage was actually nicer than Emma thought it was going to be, even though she longed for Killian’s presence next to her. Everyone was flitting around her, asking her if they needed anything, and apologizing if it took longer than her next heartbeat to get it.
Tink was fairly good at handling them so Emma wasn’t swarmed all the time. But she could see new stagehands that hadn’t been there the year before who were starstruck by her. So she’d give them a kind smile if they ever made eye contact with her.
Besides, she was learning a lot from watching backstage and not needing to control her face.
For example, when they trotted Regina out, the woman looked fabulous as always, which briefly annoyed Emma. So she had been mostly tuned out until a wisp of conversation floated through and made Emma turned around.
“So your mother was cast out of your District, isn’t that right?” Spindle asked, leaning in toward Regina.
“I was under the impression that this interview was about me, and not my mother,” Regina said crisply.
“Well, everyone certainly wants to know what happened to Cora Mills after she tried to usurp President Gold.”
“Well, Spindle, you can tell me and then we’ll both know,” Regina sniped.
“Tink?” Emma asked softly, keeping her eyes on the screen. “What happened with Regina’s mom? I mean I know Spindle said that she tried to take Gold’s spot, but like…what does that mean?”
A true flash of fear danced across Tink’s face as she quickly put her hand around Emma’s. “All you need to know is that Cora Mills is gone,” she said cheerfully, though her eyes still looked hunted. “It’s not very nice. We don’t talk about it if we can help it.”
“Well I heard she ripped their hearts out of their chests and made them do it,” Ariel whispered excitedly to Mab, clearly talking about Cora.
“I heard that she has magic and she used mind control.”
“I think,” Genie, the Capitol Ambassador from District 1, said sharply. “That Cora Mills is an unsightly stain on what citizens of District 1 are supposed to be. Speculating why she did what she did only gives those who support her a voice.”
“Well, it’s not as if anyone here supports her,” Blue, the Capitol Ambassador from District 2, protested. “Besides, we all know what she did to Regina. She pretended otherwise, but we all know. If she’s alive, I say Regina is better off without her.”
Emma said nothing but privately thought that plenty of people who were suffering under Gold wouldn’t need an excuse to rise up against him. Hell, there were plenty of people doing that now. But if Cora had been fighting for the people and trying to protect people like Emma was…wouldn’t Tink have just said so?
“Tink?” Emma asked slowly. “What…what did Cora do to Regina?”
Tink’s eyes never left the screen, though they were interviewing Arthur now. “Cora was Regina’s mother in the way that…well, she was never one for warmth,” she started lowly. “Cora was the kind of person who was nice enough, but you never wanted to get on her bad side. Obsessed with status and power. Anyone, regardless of gender, that wanted to be with Regina had to go through her mother. Which, many people have in District 1, and I think Cora had some society standing through Henry—Regina’s father—but she wanted more.”
She paused, lowering her head. “And then Regina won the Hunger Games…the year after Whale, I think. And so when Regina’s status skyrocketed, then Cora’s standards became all but impossible to follow. But there was a boy, a stablehand, Daniel.”
“What happened?” Emma whispered, trying not to draw attention from anyone else backstage.
“He was…volunteered for the Games. By Cora. He was a few years younger than Regina, but Cora waited until his last year to have him reaped.”
Emma inhaled sharply but tried to copy Tink’s cool demeanor. To anyone watching them, it just looked like they were commenting on the interviews. “She…she had the power to do that?” she rasped, horrified.
“It may surprise you to know this, Emma, but Cora Mills—after Regina’s win—was Gold’s closest advisor.” Tink closed her eyes and added, “Anyone, if they know who to talk to, can get whoever they want in or out the Games.”
“But why?” Emma asked, horrified.
“Well, I think it depends on the motive. For Cora…well…it was a means to an end. Either he’d win and earn the same status as Regina or he’d no longer be a problem. Regina was…I think 18, maybe. Maleficent mentored him so at least we didn’t have that horror behind it, but I think she blamed Maleficent, Snow and her mother--”
“Wait, like Snow White from District 10?” Emma gasped. “But they’re such good friends now.”
“Victor worked very hard to smooth that relationship over,” Tink agreed. “But Daniel taking an arrow to the neck was a very hard thing for Regina to reconcile. But he figured that if Robin could forgive Regina for murdering his wife then there was no reason for Regina to hold such a grudge against Snow. She eventually agreed, but it took some time.”
Emma huffed through her nose, her eyebrows arching as high as they could. Yeah, I bet Whale had a rough time getting them to like each other at first.
She went back to watching the interviews, though admittedly for Mulan’s interview there wasn’t much to it. Mulan kept giving one-word answers to all of Spindle’s questions, which admittedly had Emma smirking.
Still, she kept feeling the absence of Killian and it caused her to fidget.
“Don’t worry, it’ll be your turn soon,” Tink promised, holding her hand. “And then you can do a much better job of holding the audience’s attention. You know that they’re all waiting for you anyway.”
Emma just hummed faintly before turning her attention back to the screen. Quite frankly, after Regina there was James and it was a little unsettling to watch someone who had David’s face act nothing like him. And then after, Emma had an incredibly hard time controlling her smirk when Isaac seemed to overexplain himself to the point of contradiction and seemingly laid all his weaknesses bare right on camera for the other twenty-three tributes to see.
In fact, each Tribute illuminated more and more about themselves in their interviews than they had the entire time of training. And even Emma was learning more about their strategies for thinking about things. Regina was snarky and dry as a coping mechanism, whereas Mulan was nearly silent.
But Belle was equally fascinating in her own way.
When Spindle interviewed Belle, the interview seemed to be going normally, until Spindle had fallen into the trap of talking about Belle’s first games and how she felt about the Quarter Quell.
“Well, I think this simply is a violation of our rights as Victors,” Belle said simply, though Emma could see that the corners of Belle’s mouth had curled upward into a smirk. “There was…an unspoken contract if you will. When we won, the understanding is we would come back as mentors. But now the Capitol has violated their end of the contract.”
“That certainly is…one way to look at it,” Spindle said, her eyes wide with panic she was trying not to display to the audience. “Though if it’s never agreed upon can you really hold them to their word?”
Belle's chin tilted upward as if she had expected Spindle to utilize this line of thought. “Then what keeps the Victors in line?” she asked rhetorically. “What keeps any of us in line?”
“Belle French, everyone!” Spindle said shrilly and Belle waved to the audience as she walked to her seat back on stage.
“I wish she wouldn’t be so reckless!” Cassandra, the District 3 ambassador, sighed, putting her hand to her forehead. “Honestly, if she had just stuck to the script I gave her! These Victors! They win one Hunger Games and they think they know more than us.”
“Oh, Cassandra, do stop fretting,” Circe said coldly. “We all know that ever since Belle entered her…liaison with Gold, she’s untouchable.”
“Oh, getting her into the liaison wasn’t the issue,” Cassandra sighed, rolling her eyes. “When she chose to end it of all things, I thought we were done for! But I suppose he still cares for her and she can make all the comments she likes. She’ll die tomorrow anyway if the odds are anything to go by.”
Emma pursed her lips together, feeling fury rise within her. Belle could seemingly make all of the cavalier threats she wanted, no one was threatening to murder Belle’s family. In fact, they were all bored by the revelation, whereas Emma felt that all eyes would’ve been on her. It didn’t feel fair and she clenched her fists.
But you don’t know that’s really how it is, a voice in her head that sounded like Killian rationalized. You don’t know if she’s being threatened or not for the things she says.
Or maybe she’s got nothing left to lose, Emma realized, thinking of Whale’s brother.
“Tink?” Emma asked softly. “Whale’s brother? What was his name?”
Tink’s eyes filled with tears for a moment before she closed her eyes and steadied herself. “Gerhardt. His name was Gerhardt.”
Emma nodded quickly, looking down for a moment. “How did it happen?”
“It was a dreadful, dreadful accident,” Tink said with a shudder. “A Mistguard shot Gerhardt as he was coming to visit the Victor’s Alcove, thinking it was a robber or an intruder. Gerhardt walked the same path every night, usually alone and usually, the Victor’s Alcove is unguarded. The report said a concerned citizen made a report about a suspicious figure. They thought Gerhardt’s previous walks were practice for the real robbery since Whale did live all alone.”
Like hell any citizen of the Enchanted Forest didn’t know that Gerhardt was Whale’s brother, Emma thought dryly, tapping her fingers against the arm of the chair, turning over this new information in her head. She looked to see if Tink suspected anything, but Tink’s face never changed.
Out loud, Emma asked, “How come the Mistguard didn’t arrest Gerhardt if they thought he was so suspicious? How come they just shot him?”
Tink sighed and looked at Emma for a very long time. Emma squirmed in her chair, wondering if she ought to retract the question, but then Tink she slowly said, “The report said the Mistguard believed him to be a threat and acted in Whale’s best interest to protect him, as was their job.”
Emma’s eyes widened, both at the line in the report, but also at the way Tink emphasized the word report. “You don’t actually believe that, do you, Tink?”
Tink’s mouth became very small for a moment. Furtively, she looked around to make sure no one was paying attention to her. They were all clustered around the monitor, watching Ursula tell a story about her win in the Hunger Games.
“No,” Tink said honestly. “I don’t. Gerhardt was…Victor’s opposite in every way. Which made him gentle. A pacifist. Where Victor is more prone to using words in a fight, Gerhardt used kindness. I’ve never seen two brothers that had shared such a bond.” She smiled. “Sometimes Killian reminds me of him in his mannerisms. I think that’s why Victor took to him so well.”
“Did you ever believe it?” Emma asked quietly, her eyes staying on the monitor to not draw attention to them. “What they said about what happened to Gerhardt?”
“Yes,” Tink replied. “In the very beginning. It just…seemed to make sense? It seemed like a perfectly plausible explanation on the surface level.”
“And then?” Emma asked quietly.
“I hadn’t thought about it until you were reaped, my dear,” Tink said, looking down at Emma with a strange expression in her eyes. “You and Killian brought out something in Whale that I hadn’t seen in nearly two decades. And so I began to think.”
“Thinking might be a dangerous past time, Tink,” Emma said lowly, leaning back in her chair. “Are you sure you’re up for it?”
“I’m not as brave as the rest of you, and I’m not sure I truly understand everything. I will never claim to know as much as Whale knows, not that you are allowed to tell him that,” Tink replied honestly. “But I would very much like to try. I’ve seen a lot in these past years. And for once I’d like to know what it all means.”
“Well, when you figure it out, you can tell me and we’ll both know,” Emma replied, giving her ambassador a little smile and Tink laughed. Emma chuckled too, looking back up at the screen contemplatively and then she frowned abruptly. “Wait! If Killian is like Gerhardt, does that make me like Whale?”
“Oh, my dear, you’re more like Victor than I think either of you would care to admit,” Tink chuckled sympathetically and gently pat Emma’s shoulder.
“Unbelievable!” Emma muttered, folding her arms over her chest.
“Watch your dress, dear,” Tink murmured affectionately. “But if you’re looking to learn something, I think you’ll find Granny’s interview to be illuminating as well.”
“The Games, even when you win can still take everything,” Granny was saying as Emma refocused. “Sure, you win…but at what cost?”
“The taxpayer’s surely,” Spindle joked and the audience laughed along with her, applauding slightly. “Your family’s benefitted quite a bit from these Games, wouldn’t you say? And is that why you volunteered for Ruby? So you could have one more shot at glory.”
Granny’s scowl could’ve cowed steel. “Do you really think that my daughter’s suicide was a benefit?”
All the air seemed to leave the room and Emma, for one, was quite thankful she was backstage and not out there.
“No, of course not,” Spindle seemed to fumble over her words. For a brief moment, Emma felt bad for the television host. After all, she was only trying to do her job and just get through the interviews. “What happened to Anita was…terrible.”
“And yet completely avoidable. My daughter thought that her life would be enough of a price to keep Ruby out of the Games. Look at how that turned out,” Granny replied thinly.
“But Ruby won her Games,” Spindle argued.
“I’m not thankful to the Capitol for giving me three generations of Hunger Games winners in my family, and I’m not thankful that they’ve made an old woman sign up for a suicide mission herself just to make sure her only living flesh and blood can stay alive. Maybe that should be the next Quarter Quell, eh, Gold? Just Reap everyone’s grandparents, huh? See how well that plays out.”
“Haha, what a fantastic joke. Uhhh, Granny Lucas and her rapier wit, everyone!” Spindle said, desperately looking to cut to commercial.
“That was intense,” Emma whispered to Tink. “What was the play there?”
“To try and guilt the Capitol citizens into demanding they cancel the Games,” Tink replied lowly, tilting her head toward some of the other ambassadors, who were now looking at the floor. “It’s a well thought-out strategy, but I don’t think it’ll pay off. It’s a touch too aggressive for my taste. The sponsors won’t like this, but an average citizen might. Our strategy is a bit more elegant and refined.”
“Yes, guilting people into cancelling the Games by showing them the lives we could’ve lived is very refined, Tink,” Emma deadpanned. “What’s next? Manipulating a sonogram photo that doesn’t exist?”
“Manners,” Tink chided playfully, tapping Emma gently with her fan. “That was a strategy we considered, but we thought we’d be found out too easily.”
Emma couldn’t tell if Tink was still joking or being completely serious, and she wouldn’t have put it past Tink and Whale to come up with that strategy and genuinely consider its use.
Back on the television screen, Spindle looked much more at ease as she interviewed Robin. “But Robin,” she protested. “You’ve been a single man for quite some time. A handsome fellow like you, it’s hard to believe!”
“Well, as everyone here knows, I was married very young,” Robin started.
“Yes, you and Marian were married at sixteen,” Spindle replied. “And part of me has to know…was there something that spurned this along? Perhaps an unwanted visitor?”
“Of course not,” Robin replied, failing to keep the indignance out of his voice. He softened as he looked at the wedding picture Spindle projected on the screen. “We were just young and in love…and we thought we’d have the rest of our lives.”
He looked down at his hands for a moment. “She was Reaped three weeks later. We’d been married for exactly a month when she was killed in her Games.”
“By Regina,” Spindle pointed out, and Emma could only pray that they didn’t show Marian’s death on screen like they had for Killian’s brother.
And then it hit her that Regina had killed Robin’s love, the way Snow had killed her love. She turned to Tink to try and get more information out of the Capitol ambassador, but Tink’s mouth was twitching with amusement.
“So, will you be using this Games as a late form of revenge? I mean, it has nearly been a quarter of a century,” Spindle pointed out.
“No, no, I think I’m too old for revenge,” Robin joked.
“Oh, you don’t look a day over thirty-five,” Spindle laughed.
“Forty last April,” Robin replied with a twinkle in his eye. “In all seriousness? No…no, I am not interested in revenge. And so at the beginning of this interview, you’d asked if I was still single. And while the truth of the matter is, I am, there is a woman with whom I am…the most enamored, and so I’d like to share a message just for her if you’d let me.”
Spindle nearly swooned, as did many women in the audience. Robin began to wax poetic about jewels of the desert and live giving sustenance in the prickliest of cacti. It was not a particularly well written poem, but it was clearly about a woman who he wanted to her to know just how much he cared for him, no matter the front she put up for herself and others.
Her eyes found Killian in the crowd first. She watched him for a while, before she began to look at the people sitting behind him, starting to get bored with Robin’s verse.
And then she noticed the sparkle in Regina’s eye.
Her jaw flew open, and she needed to know how in the world that possibly could’ve happened, but the stagehands were sweeping her up and toward the wings.
“Are you ready?” Tink murmured, stepping up beside Emma.
“No,” Emma answered. “But I don’t think I have much of a choice.”
“Now, let’s have our first group interview of the night: our little lovebirds, from deep in the forest, Emma Swan and Killian Jones!”
Notes:
If you're interested in knowing what Emma's wedding dress looks like, this is it: https://www.kleinfeldbridal.com/product/enaura-bridal-beaded-bodice-v-neck-sleeveless-a-line-wedding-dress-beau/
Chapter 23
Notes:
Are we at the Quarter Quell yet? NOPE.
Do we have about one more chapter after this one until we get there? YEP.
Chapter Text
Those blinding lights truly never got any easier, nor did the reverberating bass of the music.
But this time, having Killian on stage made it all the easier. He was waiting on a mark on the stage, about halfway to the couches where Spindle was sitting. It allowed them to walk up together, while also all the cameras were zoomed in on her as she made her grand entrance, the first time the world was seeing the wedding dress that should’ve been.
But she ignored the cameras as she walked out on stage. Her only focus was getting to Killian. Like a sailor to the North Star, she was guided to him.
And how could she not be?
When he turned to look at her, his entire face was lit up with the sheer and utter joy of seeing her in her wedding dress, though she could sense the sadness he felt that this was not their wedding for real. His jaw was slightly slack, but his eyes held all the love in the world.
He looked so incredibly handsome in his velvet black tuxedo that she allowed herself a moment to admire him, and to let herself fall in love with him all over again. She full well knew that this was probably going to be the last moment that they ever had like this, and so she wanted to make it count.
They walked down together, Killian looked out over at the audience, but she could only look at him.
Just before they reached Spindle, she gently cupped his face in her hand and kissed him softly, to bring him back to her. He all but melted when he looked at her and gently nudged their noses together.
“You look…” he whispered, his voice barely capable of more than a whisper.
“I know,” she replied, wondering if her voice sounded as wrecked as she felt. She linked their hands together and held them above her heart. “I’m so sorry, Killian.”
“No,” he told her, nosing her cheek gently. A single tear slipped down his cheek and into her hair. “Don’t you dare be sorry, my love.”
“Emma, I…” Spindle said breathlessly. “This is…stunning. Is this the dress?”
“Yes,” Emma said softly, squeezing Killian’s hand to anchor herself. “This was supposed to have been my wedding dress. I’m glad I got to wear it for you all tonight! I was worried Merlin would’ve put in so much work for nothing…”
“And Killian, surely you’ve seen the dress before, haven’t you?” Spindle asked eagerly.
“I have not,” Killian admitted, not even looking at Spindle. “This is the first time I’ve seen the dress. Emma asked me if I wanted to be a part of the process, but I told her I wanted to be surprised.” He gently pressed his forehead to hers. “You look beautiful, love,” he murmured, closing his eyes.
While it had been picked up on the mics, Emma knew truly that Killian’s words were only for her to hear, even if the rest of the world could hear her. She closed her eyes and swayed with him for a moment on stage.
“Oh, love birds?” Spindle sing-songed, clearly relieved that Emma and Killian seemed too wrapped up in themselves to cause any trouble. “Come join us, please! I’d love to chat with you before tomorrow.”
Emma slipped her hand into Killian’s and squeezed tightly before opening her eyes again. “You ready?” she whispered.
“No,” Killian replied sadly, cupping her cheek softly. “But I’m glad you’re with me.”
Emma just gave him a watery smile, gently pressing their foreheads together one more time before she took his hand from her cheek and led him to Spindle. “Could we stand?” she asked, realizing she’d have to sit. “It feels wrong to sit and ruin such a beautiful dress.”
Besides, if she were sitting, she wouldn’t be able to pull the bodice chord like Merlin had asked her to.
“You are absolutely right, Emma.” Spindle cheerfully sprung up from the couch and bounded over to the pair of them. Killian’s arm went protectively around Emma’s waist, and while she heard the audience coo over them, she was suddenly very aware of the other twenty-two Victors who were watching them. “So, Killian. Not quite the way you’d envisioned seeing this for the first time.”
“No,” Killian replied, gently running his thumb over Emma’s hip. “It’s…I wish it’d had been anything but this. I had all of these…well, I guess you could call them daydreams.” He pulled his hand away to scratch behind his ear. “I guess none of that truly matters now.”
“Oh, indulge us anyway?” Spindle pouted. “Tell us…in the mind of Killian Jones, how would this have played out.”
Killian’s eyes met Emma’s for a moment and his shoulders tensed. This was a conversation that they hadn’t yet had with each other, both focusing on trying to get through the next few days in and both seeing anything beyond that as futile.
But now Spindle had put it out there in the open, and there was no taking it back.
“Well, I…uh…” Killian started, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I was hoping we would’ve been able to get married on the boat.”
“Liam’s boat?” Emma asked, looking up at him. Not that she was surprised in anyway, but still the knowledge that he’d wanted to carve out that space to celebrate them meant the world to her. Besides, it also meant that he’d been thinking about it, he had dreams and aspirations of what marrying her would look like.
“Aye,” he said hoarsely. “It would’ve been a very small ceremony. Y’know, we don’t have many people in our lives, and…sure we have the houses but I would’ve very much preferred to live on the lake. Just us and Henry. And it would’ve been like that until Henry carved out a life of his own in 7 and he would’ve moved out…and then it would’ve been us and any child we were liable to have. Obviously living on the lake, we could still roam through the forest and our little one would be…so curious, so inquisitive and want to know all sorts of things that only Emma or I could teach her.”
“Her?” Emma murmured, sliding her hand over his chest. She could hardly speak around the lump in her throat.
“Aye. Her.” Killian paused to gently press his forehead to hers.
Emma could picture it so clearly, a life so full of warmth and happiness. It was something that the two of them had earnestly been craving long before the Games, and long after they had ended.
Killian deserved to have all of those things. And now because of her, the life he had dreamed couldn’t be a reality. It sounded so peaceful and gentle…and god, she wanted that for him.
But above all, it was abundantly obvious that he wanted that for her as well. That he wanted her to have a life of peace and happiness, and it was something he felt they deserved to experience together.
She had only been alive 18 years, but she’d never allowed herself to entertain the idea that someone could possibly have loved her that much. But, given the depth of thought he’d given to how exactly he wanted their life to play out, it was clear that Killian did.
And one of them would lose the other before the next Games was over.
“Emma?” Spindle asked. “Are you all right, dear?”
It wasn’t until Spindle asked that Emma realized she’d been crying herself, tears quietly chasing themselves down her face. “I…” she sniffled, rubbing her eyes. Killian pulled her impossibly closer and she rest her head on his shoulder for a moment.
She took in a deep, shuddering breath to try and compose herself. But when she would look at Killian, the tears would start anew. Killian crushed her to his chest, resting his head gently on top of hers. “It’s all right, love,” he whispered, his hand gently rubbing her back. “It’s all right…”
“I just wish we’d had more time,” she finally choked out, trying to say it more to Killian than anyone else. “It’s such a beautiful picture and…and we didn’t even get to get married. I…”
She picked her head up to look at Killian, not even caring that they were in the middle of Spindle’s talk show, and that everyone in the damn country was watching them. “I…I didn’t realize how much I wanted all of that until you said it,” she told Killian. He gently wiped the tears away with his thumb, but they only fell faster.
“I really wanted to marry you,” she complained with a watery laugh. He let out a soft chuckle and kissed her softly.
“Just wasn’t in the cards for us, love,” he murmured in a gravelly voice. “Doesn’t mean I regret any of it. Or that I could ever regret you.”
“I know,” she whispered. “I know…”
A rustle caught their attention and both Emma and Killian straightened up, looking behind them, shoulders tensed at the ready.
Archie, from District 9, had stood. There were tears trickling from behind his spectacles as he took in the two tributes. “I, uh…apologize if this seems a little bit unorthodox,” he started sheepishly. “I can’t buy you more time with each other, but…I have officiated many weddings in District 9. I would be more than happy to marry you both right now. And at the very least, you can go into the Games knowing you got to be husband and wife.”
Emma and Killian exchanged a look. “That’s very kind of you,” she said. “We don’t really have anyone here for us—”
Snow immediately jumped up. “Nonsense!” she exclaimed, and while her voice was clear it was clear there had been tears running down her face while she watched them. “Please allow David and I to walk you down the aisle. I know we’re not Henry, or your parents, but you don’t have to walk into this alone.”
“Oh, I—” Emma started, feeling very overwhelmed by their kindness. It was an incredibly kind and extraordinary gesture from a couple who were still very much strangers to her. She couldn’t help but feel like awed by what they were offering her.
She squeezed Killian’s hand tightly, not wanting him to feel left out either. “What about Killian?” she found herself asking.
Robin, from District 6, stood up this time. “I’ve never had a brother by blood, but I have a large group of friends that I consider to be like my brothers. I don’t mind taking Killian into the fold for that too, if he’s looking for a best man.”
“I would be honored,” Killian rasped, letting out a disbelieving chuckle. He looked back at Emma, his hand shaking in hers. “I guess we’re getting married today, aye, love?”
“I guess we are,” Emma laughed, pressing her forehead to his.
“Could we go to commercial?” Snow asked Spindle sweetly. “I just need five minutes to get everything set up!”
“I…” Spindle’s mouth had been hanging open while all of this had unfolded, and control of her show had been wrested further and further away from her as the minutes ticked by. “Ladies and gentlemen, if you’ll allow us this brief commercial break…when we return: the wedding of the century between Emma Swan and Killian Jones. The Swansong couple who found love in the Hunger Games last year, and are now getting married right before us, live, on the eve of what may be their final day together.”
The stage manager indicated that the transition to commercial had been successful, and suddenly the stage was in an uproar. Snow was directing Archie where to stand, before forcefully marching to the couch and all but hoisting Killian up onto his feet and dragging him to where she wanted him to stand.
David came slowly to stand up beside her, gently putting a hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay?” he asked gently.
“Just overwhelmed,” she responded honestly, watching Snow clearly thrive at this level of organization. The scene was getting blurrier by the second. “You…you really don’t have to do this, you know. I’m not your daughter. I’m just some girl you only met at the last Hunger Games.”
David’s eyes misted over and he tugged her in close, cupping the back of her head. “Trust me,” he whispered. “We want to.”
“Thank you,” Emma croaked softly. “I…” A few tears escaped and began trailing down her cheeks as she thought of her own parents, how much they had loved her, and how often they’d joked about how much they would cry on her wedding day. She’d only rolled her eyes then, but she’d give anything for them to be walking her down the aisle now.
“Thank you,” she repeated.
“Of course,” David murmured, stepping away from her. He offered his arm to her and the two walked to a spot closer to where the other tributes had been sitting before. She could still see Killian from where she stood.
He seemed so much like a boy, stood in between Robin and Archie.
She felt so much like a girl again, stood next to David. His large frame protectively stood beside hers and his chin was high. Snow came to Emma’s other side, linking Emma’s free arm with her own.
“Are you ready?” Snow asked gently.
What a kind thing for strangers to do, Emma thought, looking between Snow and David, her eyes filling with tears once more.
“No,” she admitted softly, looking between them. “I’m not ready. But…but I want to marry Killian. I just…hope it’s longer than for one day.”
“Us too,” David told her softly. “But he’s waiting for you.”
“He’s been waiting for me awhile,” Emma replied. Looking down the aisle at Killian, she smiled fondly at him and even though she couldn’t see him so closely, she can tell that he was smiling fondly back at her. “It’s time for me to make him stop waiting.”
The music swelled as Emma began her walk down the aisle, and Emma didn’t dare look at anything or anyone else. There was no family here that she wanted to look for or at, not even anyone she considered close friends except for the man in front of her.
When she got to the aisle, David and Snow pulled her into one more hug before releasing her to Killian.
He smiled and took her hand gently with his home. Her hand curled confidently around his hook and she just stood in front of him, absolutely beaming now. The love in his eyes was palpable and she let out a shaky, watery laugh. He gently touched their foreheads together and her breathing slowed down again, her smile more serene.
“Dearly beloved,” Archie began, smiling down at the two of them. “We are gathered here to join Emma Swan and Killian Jones in the bonds of marriage. Are you ready to recite your vows?” He paused, realizing that this wedding was more than a little unorthodox. “It’s quite all right if you don’t have vows.”
“Aye, I have vows,” Killian said almost immediately looking to Archie abruptly. Smiling shyly, he added, “I’ve had them for quite some time.” His thumb gently swept across her hand as he began to speak, and even if Emma tried, there was no one else in the world she’d rather be looking at right then and there.
“Emma…you were the life raft when my life was the most tempestuous, the star that guides me home, and the wind in my sail that drives me forward. I don’t have the words to express how much you mean to me, how I’m a better person for knowing you and Henry. Whether we get only tomorrow, or the next 80 years together, just know that I’ll love you long beyond my last breath. No matter what, I will always consider myself the luckiest man on this earth that you decided to take a chance on me during the Games last year. That you made the decision to fight alongside me. I am constantly awed by the fierceness of your love, the strength of your devotion to those you care for and inspired by your ability to fight. I love you.”
“Killian, that was wonderful,” Archie whispered, tears running down his cheeks. He removed his glasses for a moment to wipe them away before turning to Emma and asking, “Emma, are you ready for your vows?”
“Well how am I supposed to follow up with that?” Emma choked out, letting out a wet and watery laugh. The audience laughed with her, but they seemed a million miles away now. “Anyone who knows me is probably…completely unsurprised by the fact that I didn’t write vows. But I’m gonna try for you, Killian. You’ve always made me want…want to try at the very least.”
“I, uh, I used to feel alone a lot. Except for when it was me and Henry. For the past few years, all of my energy, my focus, my time was just keeping us alive. But there’d be those moments, y’know, when you’re just about to fall asleep…that there was something more than I needed. And then you literally crashed right into me.”
He laughed and so did she, recalling their first meeting. She squeezed his hand affectionately before she continued.
“I spent…a long time kind of keeping you on the periphery of my life. Not wanting to get hurt again by someone leaving me like my mom and dad did, and so afraid I’d get distracted that this…this really shaky grip I had on my life and security would come crashing down if I let myself get comfortable. But then we got Reaped. And suddenly, you went from the person who I kept out to the person I needed to be right by my side. No matter how prickly I was, or how stubborn, you were always there looking out for me. You were patient and steady and…it was like everything clicked all at once. Even though we were fighting for our lives, you made me feel like I didn’t have to white knuckle grip my way through life anymore. And it became the most natural thing in the world to trust you, to rely on you, to look out for you…to love you.”
She looked up at him, her eyes glimmering before she added playfully, “I mean, even just now when they had me backstage, I kept looking for you to tell you something and you weren’t there! It was so weird!”
The audience let out a hearty laugh with her, but it was Killian’s warm chuckle that swooped into her stomach and settled there.
“Thanks for not letting me be alone, and I promise I won’t ever let you be alone again,” she whispered, to end her speech. “I love you too.”
Her eyes flickered to a nearby monitor, and the audiences’ faces were stained with tears. Spindle was shaking so hard she was crying. The audible sniffles behind her told her that some of the Victors were crying as well. She didn’t even need to look over her shoulder to know that Tink was weeping profusely.
But Killian, her steadfast and stolid Killian, was not crying. He just looked at her as if she was the only thing that mattered. And to look at him, was the thing that kept her from crying too. No matter what happened, she knew that they’d have each other’s back, no matter what.
Like Killian said, whether they had tomorrow or the next 80 years, she would love him just the same. Even if it was only until tomorrow, Emma knew she could go the rest of her life knowing she had him and he had her.
A swan song indeed, she thought.
“By the power vested in me,” Archie rasped, not even bothering to take his glasses off now to wipe away his tears. “I pronounce you husband and wife.”
The word “wife” had barely left Arhcie’s mouth before Killian surged forward, hooking his arm around her waist to draw her in. His hand came to cup her cheek and he kissed her fiercely. Emma returned his kiss, linking her arms around his neck so she could pull the back of his head closer to her.
When they broke apart, they pressed their foreheads together, smiling softly at one another.
“I love you, wife,” Killian murmured, his eyes lighting up at the word.
“Love you too, husband,” Emma replied, her eyes glowing with happiness as well.
“Emma Swan and Killian Jones, everyone!” Spindle declared, her own voice choked up as she turned to the audience.
Emma and Killian walked to the edge of the stage and took a bow. As she straightened, Emma knew that it was time for her to move. She pulled the chord on the bodice, feathers blossomed on her dress.
Her eyes widened as she saw chrysanthemums began to wind their way up her dress.
Oh Merlin…Merlin no… she thought, looking desperately across the crowd to find him.
Killian’s head turned sharply too, and it was then she noticed how feathers had appeared on Killian as well. She could see the panic in Killian’s eyes as well, and she squeezed his hand. He imperceptibly tilted his head to let her know when he’d found Merlin in the crowd.
Merlin sat peacefully, the spotlight shining on him as Spindle sang his praises. There was a look on his face like he knew what he had done, and there was something so horrifically final about the way he was projected on the screen that it almost reminded Emma of when they would project the image of fallen Tributes into the sky at the end of every day.
Still, there was nothing she could do as the stagehands shepherded her and Killian to their seats as the interviews continued.
She could barely focus through the next two districts, her eyes still trained on Merlin, waiting for something awful to happen right then and there. But the sound of her name finally drew her attention back into what was going on as she tore her eyes away from her stylist.
“So,” Spindle began. “I noticed that you two were awfully eager to jump in and walk Emma down the aisle. But you’d only met her last year when she came for her Games, correct?”
“That’s right,” Snow said with a sad and strained smile, her hand clasped tightly around David’s. “But…well…this is probably the only chance we’d ever have to walk someone down the aisle.” Closing her eyes, she let out a shaky sigh, “I never…told anyone but David this. But a few years after we won our Games, I was pregnant.”
Spindle’s eyes widened and she handed Snow a tissue. “I’m sorry, you don’t have to—”
“It’s hard to talk about her,” Snow admitted, her voice shaking. “But I lost her before the beginning of my fourth month…and after that we just…never had the opportunity, I guess. So for us to walk Emma down the aisle…it was the closest we’ll ever get to walking anyone down the aisle.”
“I see,” Spindle murmured sympathetically, giving Snow a gentle pat on the shoulder. “David, how about you? Knowing what you and your wife have lost, and knowing you both won’t make it out of the Games…do you have any regrets?”
“Regrets?” David echoed, taking Snow’s hand. “No, I wouldn’t have any regrets at all if…” He exchanged a look with Snow.
“If?” Spindle prompted, leaning into them.
“If it weren’t for the baby.”
The audience broke into an uproar and Emma nearly found herself bolting up as well. Her eyes scanned the crowd quickly for her mentor, wanting to see if he knew anything about this, or if he was just as surprised as the rest of them.
Whale, true to form, was knocking back another drink with his flask covering his mouth to hide his reaction.
Chapter 24
Notes:
We did it, kids. We broke 100k and we aren't even in the Games yet. (Next chapter, you'll see)
Sorry I disappeared and haven't written in a while. I got into a new fandom and that kind of took up all the muse space for a bit there! But, as I've done every year for the last 3 years (2 years?), this series will be my focus for NaNoWriMo. I'm pretty sure I'm less than 50k from the end for this fic so it will allow me to start the third and final part of the series!
We have now just finished Part 13 of my 19 part outline so we're definitely heading into the last fourth of this fic and it's going to be a doozy!
I'm fully prepared for you to yell at me for this one.
trigger warnings: alcohol, gun violence, death
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“Settle down, settle down,” Spindle called over the horrified roars of the crowd. “Let’s find out everything we can, shall we?”
Killian’s hand found Emma’s and he laced their fingers together, squeezing gently.
David and Snow just smiled sadly at the audience, holding each other’s hands. Emma watched as Killian’s gaze landed on their hands contemplatively before flickering to try and find Whale. His eyes met hers and she gave him a little shrug. The corner of his mouth curled into a something that almost resembled a smirk before he went to seek out Whale.
“Just how far along are you?” Spindle wanted to know eagerly, pressing forward to try and get more information from the couple.
“Around 18 weeks,” Snow replied, squeezing David’s hand gently. “So far it hasn’t shown yet…and I’m sure the Games won’t allow me to…”
David leaned over and kissed her temple, closing his eyes for a moment.
“And have you found out the baby’s gender yet?” Spindle asked, and Emma absolutely despised the woman for the ravenous look in her eyes.
“No, no,” David murmured. “After the loss of our daughter…” He sighed heavily, and it was Snow’s turn to quietly console him. “We just…we couldn’t bring ourselves to go through that again.”
“It was supposed to be a surprise.” Snow’s voice cracked on the word.
Emma’s stomach curled on the way the camera zoomed in closer on Snow’s face, hated how the people watching felt entitled to this couple’s grief and tragedy. How the people watching had been entitled to her and Killian’s tragedy. How people in the audience cried as if they really knew or loved any of the people on stage, but it was all for their entertainment and amusement.
Still, if anyone had a chance of stopping the Games, it would be this horrified audience, whose humanity still lingered within them, even if it all felt incredibly superficial. The roar of the crowd began to built more and more until Spindle could no longer be heard, even with the microphone.
Snow and David both came over to the other Tributes. Snow linked her hands with Archie and David with Rapunzel. Archie grabbed Gothel’s hand, who then grabbed Lumiere’s hand, who grabbed Megara’s hand. When she extended her hand to Killian, he shirked a little bit at first.
Emma let go of Killian’s hand for a moment so they could switch spots. Killian’s hand held Megara’s, and Emma wrapped her fingers around Killian’s hook. It was possessive, and a little bit childish because the order truly didn’t matter, but she knew Killian felt insecure about his hook and she was the keeper of Killian’s safety. And she would damn well make sure he was safe.
Her eyes met Robin’s. Something in his gaze, like he knew something she didn’t, made her feel like there was just some trap laying around the corner. But she was not going to be the one to break the unity they had established, so she held out her hand to his.
All 24 victors held their hands aloft for the audience to see.
And then there was complete and utter darkness.
Confused screams and shouts of the audience members rose, and Emma couldn’t see a thing. There were people swiftly climbing onto the stage and she shuffled to stand back-to-back with Killian.
A dark figure approached them in the rampant chaos surrounding them, and she felt Killian’s hook move from her grasp to come in front of them protectively.
“C’mon, cherubs. Let’s meet up with Tink and get out of here.”
Emma sighed in relief, and she grabbed on to Whale’s sleeve. Killian’s hand slid back into hers.
No one said in a word until they were back in their rooms. The light had been jarring coming out of the studio, but not enough to prompt her into speech.
They were seated on the couch, pressed in close to one another before Killian broke the silence.
“So…are Emma and I actually married?”
Whale laughed, clearly taken aback by the question. “Out of everything that just happened, that’s the thing you ask?” he questioned, raising an eyebrow. When Killian looked at him, he must’ve sensed Killian’s seriousness, because his disbelief melted into warmth and affection. “Yes. You two are married for real now.”
Killian nodded, satisfied with that answer, and didn’t say anything else.
Emma took his hand softly and linked their fingers together, resting her head on his shoulder. Killian rested his head on top of hers, giving their fingers a gentle squeeze.
Whale watched them another moment before sitting across from them. “Anything else you want to know?” he asked them both.
“I do have questions…” Killian started softly, swallowing thickly. “But I don’t see the point in asking any of the questions I have. We are going to wake up tomorrow, and from then on, it’s just…the ticking of a clock. Anything we’re liable to learn…ultimately, it doesn’t matter.”
Truthfully, her answer was the same. She had so many questions that needed answering, so many things she wanted to know.
But what was the point of that knowledge? How could it possibly help them now? What was going to get them both through 22 other human lives for the second time in a year?
You know they won’t let you both win again.
Quickly banishing that thought from her mind as soon as it had entered, she squeezed Killian’s hand tighter. The curve of his hook came to trace along her bare back, and she closed her eyes, letting the feel of the cool metal against her skin center her and ground her.
“Emma?” Whale asked gently.
Her eyes flickered over to her mentor. “It’s a dark line of thought, but…Killian’s right,” she whispered. “I just…I want to spend this time with you guys and Tink and maybe Merlin if he’s around still.”
Whale nodded, his soft and affectionate look giving way to a weary melancholy. His lip quivered and he moved forward in his seat, pulling both Emma and Killian into his arms. Emma’s eyes widened for only a moment before she wrapped her arms tightly around Whale. Beside her, Killian did the same.
“I’m so proud of you both. No matter what happens out there…I’m so proud,” Whale rasped into their ears. She felt Whale’s lip quiver, and the gentle slide of his tears against her cheek. Emma closed her eyes, squeezing them as tightly as she could go, and tried to pull Whale closer to her and Killian.
They stayed like that for a few moments longer before Whale cleared his throat, pulling away from Emma and Killian. Emma looked down to give Whale a moment to wipe his tears away. She heard Killian sniffle audibly beside her and she reached out surreptitiously to wipe her tears away as well.
“Presents!” Tink declared, bounding back in the room. If Emma was honest, she hadn’t even known that Tink had left the room to begin with. “I have presents for everyone!”
“What?” Whale asked flatly.
“Presents!” she repeated cheerfully.
“At a time like this?” Killian asked, looking between Tink and Emma.
It was Tink’s turn to level Killian with a flat stare and quipped, “Well, when else am I supposed to give them to you? You just got married, and I won’t have time for all the pomp and circumstance they deserve if I do it tomorrow morning!”
Whale let out an exasperated laugh, his lips curving into a fond smile in spite of himself. “Well, all right, come join the party.” He patted the chair beside him and Tink sat down in it gracefully.
“I…I was hoping to give you something else as a wedding present,” Tink started self-consciously, looking at Emma and Killian. “But I hope these will do.” She first handed a small velvet box to Emma.
Emma opened it, and inside the box was her swansong pin. But a beautiful gold circle surrounded the bird, and the circle was adorned with small, jeweled flowers. And though they were too small to see, Emma knew in her heart of hearts that they were chrysanthemums. Engraved on the tip of one of the bird’s wings was an ‘H’. Held in the bird’s foot was a hook.
Emma lovingly traced the new details of her pin. “I…when did you do this?” she asked softly. “I didn’t even notice you took my swansong pin.” In truth, she’d forgotten about it, swept up in the circus that was the last few weeks.
“Oh, it was right as we got here, maybe a day or two after we got here. I knew you’d be so busy in training and wouldn’t want to wear it then,” Tink replied warmly.
“How come you didn’t put this on my wedding dress if it was done?” Emma asked softly.
“Because Merlin simply wouldn’t have it,” Tink sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes. Then she smiled at Emma again. “Besides. I knew you would want to have them with you went into the Games. You wouldn’t have needed them beforehand.”
“Thank you, Tink,” Emma replied gratefully, closing the velvet box again. She held the box against her heart. “This is a perfect wedding present.”
Tink beamed and then extended a small box to Killian. “Now, I think it’s a little heavy for my taste, but I do believe this is to your specifications,” she said.
Inside Killian’s box was a heavy square pendant with two lines running down it. It was simple, but Emma could see the engravings of the letters “E”, “L” and “H” on his necklace.
Emma pressed a kiss to Killian’s clothed shoulder before she came to a realization. “Hey, you said it was to his specifications. That means he knew about his gift in advance!”
“Yes, dear,” Tink sighed heavily. “If I’d asked you what you wanted, you would’ve told me you didn’t want anything and would’ve pouted when I got you something.” She chuckled as Emma began to sputter, “Remember, dear. You’re just like someone else we all know and love.” She gave Emma a playful wink before handing Whale his present.
“Excellent, just what I needed,” Whale said dryly. “A big old gold bracelet that I can hock.”
“Victor Whale!” Tink exclaimed, gently slapping him on the shoulder. “I worked very hard to get that made for you.”
Whale grinned up at Tink easily. “I know. I’m just joking with you.”
“You’re impossible, Whale!”
“And yet you haven’t murdered me yet after all this time together. You must like me or something.”
“One day, you won’t be so lucky,” Tink muttered darkly, but her cheeks pinked with delight when Whale put on the gold cuff on his wrist.
“All right, so what’s your gold, Tink?” Whale asked, still proudly showing off his gift by turning his wrist from side to side.
Tink pulled back her hair to reveal a tattoo in golden ink that peeked out from her clavicle and wound itself up toward her shoulder.
Whale’s eyes gleamed with delight and he let out a whoop of joy. “I never thought I’d see the day!” he crowed triumphantly. “Look at our girl, she’s got a bit of a badass streak to her!”
“I…” Tink blushed more deeply now. “It’s just a tattoo of a feather and a hook intertwined. Nothing more.”
“Hey, Tinkerbelle?”
“Yes, dear?” Tinkerbelle replied.
“You said when you were in school there were thirteen districts…but wasn’t 13 wiped out 74 years ago?” Emma asked, looking up again at Tinkerbelle. For the first time, Tinkerbelle’s carefree and lighthearted demeanor slipped when she smiled at Emma.
“Yes.”
Emma looked over at their Capitol Ambassador, suddenly reminded that Tink had been doing her job for a very long time. It had been Tink and Whale together for the last twenty-five years alone. So, for her to get something permanently inked on her body that symbolized Emma and Killian…
Emma reached forward and hugged the woman. “Thank you,” she whispered softly. “Thank you so much.”
--
The rest of the evening was spent drinking, playing card games, and had a delightful moment when Tink swore for the first time and Whale nearly fell over with just how happy he was.
Emma and Killian changed out of their wedding clothes, and it was just nice to relax and be open together in this little group they’d built for themselves.
Merlin had stopped by for a little bit, drinking with them. He was happy enough, but there was something dark that would settle behind his eyes when he thought no one was looking. He met her curious gaze and gave her a reassuring shake of his head.
The wine must be getting to my head, Emma thought distantly, and she excused herself for a moment so she could stand on her balcony and let the cool air soothe her flushed cheeks. She stood, arms folded on the railing, and she rested her chin on top of her elbows.
Below her, the whirring sounds of the Capitol buzzed happily. A group of fans had stationed themselves outside where they were staying and let out loud cheers of joy once they’d seen Emma come out. She gave them a little wave, before staring out across the expanse of the city again.
The sliding glass door opened and closed, but she didn’t turn. Only very few cheers sounded when the person stood next to her, so she knew it wasn’t Killian. “Ouch,” she teased Whale as he draped his arms over the railing.
“Eh, I’m used to it,” Whale replied, not looking at her. They stood there, just watching the lights in the nearby buildings flash and flicker before he asked, “Are you all right?”
Emma sighed, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I think so,” she said quietly. “I was just getting a little warm.”
Whale nodded, his gaze still fixed forward. “You know, that brother of yours isn’t such a bad kid to have around. I might take him under my wing if you’re not too careful.”
“Watch out, Whale. He might be a good influence on you, and we can’t have that happening,” Emma snarked and Whale let out a huff of a laugh through his nose.
“Well, if he’s anything like his sister, maybe that won’t be such a bad thing,” Whale said casually. “Even if she doesn’t listen to my advice ninety percent of the time.”
Emma rolled her eyes. “All right, let’s have it,” she groaned.
Whale finally looked at her but didn’t start speaking until she looked up at him. “Tomorrow… I just want you to remember who is on your team okay? Don’t lose sight of the people that are looking out for you,” he said seriously, not breaking eye contact with her for a moment.
Emma leveled him with a flat stare. “Seriously?” she asked incredulously. “You’re still trying to get me to take allies?”
“No, I learned a few days ago that you making the choice to take allies ain’t happening,” Whale replied. “I just…” He ran his hand through his hair. “You’re in an unprecedented position, cherub. And it’ll be so easy for you to lose your head, which is the point.” He pointed at the outline of the Ebony Castle on the horizon. “That’s exactly what they want. What he wants.”
“Oh my god, I will keep the ally thing under advisement if it gets you to stop lecturing me. I already told you I only trust Killian and I only want Killian by myself, isn’t that enough?” Emma grumbled.
Whale shook his head and clicked his tongue at her.
She sighed. “You’re the worst.” Whale chuckled, turning away from her again to look out over the city. Feeling a little bit bad, she added as she turned back, “You’re not the worst. You’re annoyingly right and helpful sometimes.”
Whale quirked an eyebrow at her. “Oh, so I didn’t hallucinate that from last year?”
“Don’t get an ego about it,” Emma retorted.
Whale began to grin again, his eyes lighting up. “Oh my god, am I your hero?”
“Not right now you’re not!” Emma said crossly.
Whale chuckled, slinging his arm over Emma’s shoulder. They stood looking out over the city once more, before he added seriously, “I meant it you know. About Henry.”
“You have to tell him every single day that I love him,” Emma said, keeping her voice as steady as she could. “And you have to stop drinking because if your liver fails again, I will literally come back to haunt you and make sure you’re taking care of yourself.”
“Wouldn’t that be more of a reason for me to not take care of myself?” Whale asked and Emma elbowed him sharply. “But I…will do my best. I can’t make any promises. I’m a weak man, Emma.” He shook his flask, and when she heard the swishing sound her heart sank.
But even then, it wasn’t like she could blame him.
After all, who knew better than her how terrible survival could be?
“No,” she said honestly. She looked up at him to make sure he knew she was being serious when she added, “I think you’re actually the strongest person I know.”
“I cannot wait to rub it in David’s face that you said that,” Whale muttered in an attempt to hide just how much the words affected him.
The sliding glass door opened again. Emma looked over her shoulder and saw Killian standing there, extending his hand toward her. “Ready for bed, love?” he asked softly.
Emma stood on her tiptoes and gently kissed Whale’s cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For everything.” She extricated herself from Whale’s arm around her shoulder and began to head toward Killian. Once Killian’s fingers were twined with hers, she called over her shoulder, “Don’t fall over the railing. Killian and I still need you at least for tomorrow.”
Whale just laughed wetly and raised his flask to the two of them.
Killian resituated them so Emma’s arm was curled around his. They padded through the hallways step for step, not saying anything as they walked. And suddenly, Killian stopped short in front of the room she hadn’t used the entire time they’d been there.
“Your quarters, love,” he murmured.
“What?” she asked confusedly. “What is this? What are you doing?”
Killian had the audacity to flush and tried to extract his hand from her arm so he could scratch behind his ear. Emma wouldn’t let him, frowning at him, and waiting for him to explain himself. I didn’t know if you want to sleep together.”
Emma raised an eyebrow at him and his flushed deepened. “I didn’t mean like that!” his voice squeaked adorably. “I…really just want to sleep. I want to hold you all night if you’ll let me. But I completely understand if you want your personal space this evening.”
Cupping his face in her hands, she kissed him sweetly, rocking back and forth with him in the hallway. “I want to stay with you tonight,” she murmured against his lips. She pulled back a little bit further to clarify, “Just for sleeping.”
Killian chuckled and offered her his arm again, which she gladly took and they walked into the room they’d been sharing all week. As if it were a normal night, they quickly changed into their nightclothes and Killian opened his arms to her once he was situated in bed.
She gladly curled into his hold and fell asleep with her ear pressed against his chest, his heart acting as the perfect lullaby.
--
The next morning threw into sharp relief that they were in anything but normal circumstances. Tink came in, subdued, but bright and early enough. Tatiana was waiting for Emma, but Killian refused to let Emma leave without kissing her cheek one more time.
Emma knew the separation was only for a little while. Then just like last year, they would be shepherded down to their waiting spot, where a bunch of Capitol donors would pay for the privilege of interacting with them all one last time, and then they’d be swept off in the helicarrier to the Games.
That thought, in it of itself, was comforting. She knew the routine, she knew what to expect, and in that respect there was nothing to be nervous about.
Even though the mood was somber as they headed to where the other Tributes were waiting, Emma kept her head high and her hand clasped firmly around Killian’s.
Just at the edge of the waiting area, Whale tapped them both on the shoulder. “I, uh…I have one more piece of advice for you before you go in there,” he said lowly, his eyes darting to the other tributes to make sure they couldn’t be heard. “Get your weapons as soon as possible.”
“Don’t avoid the cornucopia?” Killian asked softly.
Whale shook his head. “No way. No one survives a Quarter Quell without a good weapon,” he said grimly, the truth of his own experiences flooding his words. “Especially not you, Killian. And Emma’s already insisted she won’t be separated from you, so you might as well go in together. Have each other’s backs. Weapons first, you can always hide afterward.”
Emma nodded, squeezing Killian’s hand tightly. “Got it,” she said, her voice not going much higher than a whisper. Whale clapped her shoulder and they all walked into the waiting area together.
Her head was still high, and Killian’s was too. Seeing herself on a monitor, she felt as powerful as she and Killian looked. They stood off to the side once more, and well wishers began to flock to them. Emma was friendly enough with them but kept herself closed off to the other participants of the Quarter Quell.
Gold went up on the podium to give his farewell speech. But he only sneered out a very loaded, “May the odds be ever in your favor, victors.” He made direct eye contact with Emma, but she did not break it. She refused to kowtow in front of the people she’d be fighting, and he smirked unpleasantly before heading off.
The inserting of the chip was the same as always and once she was sat on the helicarrier, Killian made sure to take the seat next to hers, ignoring the Mistguard who insisted they had assigned seats. In fact, most of the victors weren’t listening to the Mistguard, choosing to sit wherever they pleased on the helicarrier.
Once they were strapped in, Emma took Killian’s hand in her own and rest her head back on his shoulder. He kissed the top of her head, and she closed her eyes. She felt Killian’s eyelashes against her forehead as his eyes closed and she smiled a little bit into his cheek.
There was no need to look at the competition around them. There was no need to engage with anyone, the way that so many other of their fellow competitors were doing. It was just her and Killian against the world, and so if they were in their own little world, it didn’t matter.
Still, Belle’s quiet voice broke through her reverie.
“The creaking silence of age echoes through the streets. Sounds like old wooden floors under heavy feet. All of the children once running around have evacuated, or maybe they just disappeared. Where have all the children gone? Just yesterday they were tying ribbons in trees and swinging from the branches. They were leaping over hot coals and swooning at anything. Where have all the children gone?
“Those of us who remain wander around like abandoned children in shopping malls. Where have all the children gone? Maybe this is just a dream. Maybe they are sleeping in rooms filled with metal shelves. If we put our ears to those shelves, they would tell us stories of how they were emptied. Emptied by the fingers of fathers. Emptied into the flesh of their sons and daughters. Where have all the children gone?”
“We hope they are just hiding. We hope they are playing a game. But we know this is really happening. Where have all the children gone?”
“Jesus Christ, Belle,” Regina muttered. “A little on the nose for today, don’t you think?”
“What?” Belle asked defensively. “It’s a poem I happen to like very much.”
Belle was right. For as much of today was the same as it was last year, there were no children to be found on the helicarrier today. As young as Emma and Killian both were, they weren’t children anymore. Those children had been left behind the last time they had been on this helicarrier.
Emma didn’t get to think on it much more than that, as the landing was the same, the unbuckling was all the same. Knowing Merlin would be there when the ramp went down, she gave her stylist a little wave, which he gladly reciprocated.
And for the second time in a year, Emma had to watch as two by two, Tributes were taken off the helicarrier and brought down their respective hallways to the launch pads.
Just before they took Killian, she murmured to him, “Killian? There’s no one else I’d rather be me here with at the end of everything.”
Killian turned to press a long kiss to her forehead. “I feel the same.” She pressed his forehead to hers before murmuring, “I’ll see you up there, all right?” She nodded and he gave her one more kiss before disappearing into the hallway.
It left her alone, standing on the helicarrier with Robin as they waited for their respective stylists to come back for them. She still refused to look at anyone and stood as tall as she could, not wanting to show any nerves or fear, any indecision that this man could use to kill her in five minutes from now.
She thought she heard him chuckle under his breath, but she didn’t turn her head to look.
When Merlin approached, Emma smiled at him and they walked down the hallway together once more. Once they were out of earshot of the Mistguard, Emma murmured worriedly, “That was a really dangerous move with the chrysanthemums and the feathers.”
Merlin, to her surprise, just laughed, “C’mon, Swansong. Don’t let those be your last words to me.”
“I’m just saying…” Emma said, shrugging. It felt so wrong for him to be so cavalier about it
“What’s the worst that could happen?” Merlin asked gently nudging her with his shoulder. “They break my hands and I never design again?”
It felt so wrong for him to be so cavalier about it that she began to frown, her mind beginning to churn up all sorts of worst-case scenarios.
He stopped just before the tube that would bring her up to the launch pad and back into the arena, placing his hands on her shoulders. “Seriously, Swansong. It’s going to be all right. Focus on yourself, we can worry about me after, okay? You’re a great friend for worrying about me, and he’ll never stop believing in you. You’re an amazing person with a big capacity for love.”
Emma grinned at him, her earlier trepidation at his attitude slowly disappearing. “Thank you,” she said sincerely, giving him one last big hug. “And once this is over, no more big risks like that on my behalf, okay?”
“No promises,” Merlin laughed. He affixed the pin to her outfit, giving it a thoughtful appraisal. “It’s going to be cold, based on these outfits,” he said decidedly. “Stay warm, stay hydrated. If you get hypothermic, warm up slowly. And don’t let them break you.”
“I won’t,” she promised.
“May the odds be ever in your favor, Swansong,” he murmured, giving her a big hug.
She beamed back at him and stepped into the tube that would bring her to the launch pad. As soon as the door locked, she looked over Merlin’s shoulder to see two Mistguards striding down the hallway toward them.
She frowned at them confusedly. The Mistguards hadn’t been there last year.
Hope soared in her chest. Maybe something’s wrong, maybe Gold’s changed his mind…
No sooner than she thought it, the Mistguards ripped Merlin away from where he had been standing. One punched him in the stomach, so he doubled over to his knees.
The other stood behind him, pressing the muzzle of his gun to the back of Merlin’s head.
The roar of the gun, and the churning of the mechanics as the tube began to move upward drowned out Emma’s screaming.
There was no pause in the dark this time, just a straight ascension upward into the bright light.
Her heart slamming against her chest, Emma shook her head back and forth to try and pull herself together before anyone could see her. She felt like she was going to be sick to her stomach, but there was no time to give Merlin anymore thought.
Because for the second time in a year, she was about to start the fight of her life.
She steadied her breathing, the icy wind making the tears on her face sting. She glared hatefully up at the nearest camera, knowing that Gold had done this on purpose, just to get her to break. And she’d promised Merlin she wouldn’t.
And either she’d deal with her feelings when this was all over, or it’d be over before she could give it much thought. Either way, now was not the time to reflect on all that she’d seen, and the adrenaline and the fury began pumping through her veins.
As the clock began to wind down, she began to silently keep track of her reasons to keep fighting, to keep living.
“Ten...nine...”
Henry. Merlin.
“Eight..seven…”
Whale. Tink.
“Six…five…”
Neal. Milah.
“Four…three..”
Morgarzea. Imani.
“Two…one.”
Killian.
Boom.
If she’d given it more than a nanosecond’s thought, the sound alone could’ve brought her to her knees, back to the hallway where Merlin was.
But there was no time for that.
The 75th Hunger Games had begun.
Notes:
*ducks out behind the fortress where I've barricaded myself*
The poem that Belle recites is "Where Have All The Children Gone" by Joseph Kerschbaum, which served as the inspiration for the title of this fic!
Chapter 25
Notes:
I figured being 3.5 chapters ahead of you was a decent place to be before I started posting again.
Welcome to NaNoWriMo! The only time of year where I can churn out enough words to get ahead of you, get further in my outline in a week than I have since January, and inch closer and closer to a final chapter count. I am in Part 17 of 19 in my outline??? I literally do not know how that happened? But if all goes well and I finish Part 2...well...it's called a trilogy for a reason now, isn't it?
Happy Hunger Games. And may the odds be ever in your favor.
Chapter Text
The dry, wintery air hit Emma’s lungs as she sprinted down the ice-coated hills. The ground seemed solid beneath her feet, as if parts of it were permanently frozen. The pine trees—so much like the ones at home—were covered in a pristine layer of snow.
Unlike last year’s arena, there were no mountains to hide in, and leaving only the dense forest surrounding the arena as the one place any of them could go for protection.
She could hear the crunch of footsteps around her, not only hers but that of the other Victors as they sprinted toward the Cornucopia.
Just around the Cornucopia, rivers with frozen chunks of ice seemed to weave their way through the arena though the current seemed to be pushing the ice chunks along at a steady pace. With a sinking feeling in her gut, Emma realized that she would have to swim across the frozen rivers to make it to the weapons.
Steeling herself wasn’t enough, as she flung herself into the icy depths, a searing pain lanced up her body, the feeling of thousands of small knives permeating her skin as she struggled to take in her first breath.
“Swim!” Killian’s voice ruggedly called out for her, temporarily drowning out the roaring of the water and her heartbeat in her ears. “Emma! You have to swim!”
Moving herself into a less than elegant kick and pulling herself forward. And then, her suit began to glow, the heat almost immediately counteracting the cold and allowing her to cut through the water.
Kicking fiercely, she pulled herself forward, seeing really only herself and David. She just wanted to be able to protect herself and Killian, wanted to make sure she got her hands on a weapon so that she could ensure their survival.
Dragging herself onto the shore, she frantically scrambled over to the cove of weapons, seeing three swords lined up neatly. Killian was a little bit further back in the Cornucopia, already affixing his hook to his brace.
One of the three swords was smaller and lighter than the others and her hand reached out for it, when another hand reached across her periphery.
Grabbing the sword, she quickly sprung back to point it at her foe.
David smiled at her. “It’s okay, Emma.” When she raised her arm, he raised his, and she finally saw the flash of gold.
“Son of a bitch!” Emma hissed. “I told him no allies!”
“Yeah, well, Victor’s never been good at listening,” David replied, reaching past her to grab a sword now.
“How sweet,” James drawled from behind them. “About to be made infinitely less sweet when I run Emma through.”
Emma dropped and rolled toward David as David surged toward James. “The hell you well!” he roared, raising his sword at James, which James immediately parried with the final sword.
Feeling David had a good handle on this, Emma slipped back to join Killian’s side, only to find him fighting back to back with Granny, who was holding a crossbow. Facing Killian was Blackbeard, while Gothel faced off with Granny.
Isaac was just outside of Killian’s periphery, a dagger raised in his hand. Emma swiftly ducked under Killian’s raised arm his other side, her sword raised at Isaac menacingly. Isaac sneered at her, though she could see his eyes were filled with fear.
She stalked around him, her sword raised toward him. Her eyes narrowed toward him, and as he raised his hand back to throw the dagger, she slashed toward him. He gasped wildly and his dagger dropped to the ground and the canon sounded as he dropped to the ground.
“Emma?” Killian asked worriedly, his head snapping toward her.
She met his gaze with a weak smile. “I’m fine,” she told him, joining his side, watching Blackbeard and Gothel join off with Arthur and James to slink off into the depths of the forest. Regina stood on the far bank, away from the Cornucopia, as if she was waiting for them.
It wasn’t a standard career pack, not the way she was used to or the way anyone else was used to. But it was a deadly group of people nevertheless.
“Nice work, kiddo,” Granny praised as she stood over Isaac’s body, giving it a kick for good measure.
“Did Arthur get away? Bastard!” Mulan spat, rushing up to their side. Blood slipped through her fingers as she clamped over a wound on her arm.
“You okay?” David asked, coming up beside her.
“Yeah,” she grumbled. “He’s just a dirty coward, and the bleeding should stop in a minute.” She tilted her head toward David. “Thanks for getting James to drop his sword, by the way. It’ll help us in the long run if James isn’t playing with his favored weapon and I’m playing with mine.”
Killian looked at the group, his eyes flickering across them silently. He looked at Emma and she gave him a shrug and a displeased eyeroll. He let out a huff of a laugh under his breath, the cool air betraying him as it showed. “I guess this is our alliance then,” he said, looking at David, Granny and Mulan.
“Yep,” Emma replied, trying very hard not to put any sort of inflection into the word, praying none of them could see how quickly her heart was beating against her chest.
“Guess so,” David said, but he wasn’t looking at them.
At a different bank across the Cornucopia, Emma watched as Belle, Robin, Archie, and Lancelot disappeared into the forest. Only Snow remained on the edge of the bank for a moment before disappearing into the forest with them. David stood watching her disappear for a long time.
Emma didn’t know what to say, feeling a little shocked by this turn of events. She had assumed Snow and David were a package deal, just like she and Killian were. “Are you okay?” is what she finally came up with. And she finally looked up at David, but he didn’t seem all that perturbed.
In fact, he was smiling quite serenely as he looked out at the swirling rivers around them. “Yes, everything is fine,” he said calmly, finally looking down at Emma.
“Why did she do that?” Emma asked hesitantly, shifting from foot to foot, hating how unbothered David seemed by the whole thing. “And what are we going to do when we meet up with her again?”
It was bad enough that she was already in one alliance that she really didn’t want to be a part of, she would hate to be a part of an alliance that had ten people.
Besides, having an alliance of ten people seemed impossible to manage, given that there were no more than 23 of them left to play the Games.
“Don’t worry,” David rumbled warmly. “I always find her.”
What the hell does that mean? Emma asked, wandering away from him and back to Killian. Killian raised an eyebrow at her, and she shook her head, giving him a bemused shrug. He snorted again affectionately before he looked her over once more. When he was satisfied, she looked at him intently, and he gave a fond shake of his head.
“Well, if we’re quite done, there’s no food here,” Granny announced, shouldering her way through them and to David’s side. “So this place is useless to stay in, unless we get some sponsorships tonight.” She handed out survival packs to everyone, which Emma slid onto her shoulders gratefully.
“What’s in these?”
“Kindling, matches, a hunting knife…your standard pack,” Granny huffed. “Which is why I said, unless we have any sponsorships comin’ in, we gotta move our behinds out of here. We’re sitting ducks out here.”
“Well, it’s not safe to make the assumption that we will get any sponsorships,” Mulan said gruffly, lifting her hand to ensure that her arm wound had stopped bleeding. “At least not tonight. I don’t think we gave them enough of a show for that.”
“Where will we go?” Emma asked.
“How about over there?” Killian pointed to a section of the landscape that was broken up by a river that no group had taken yet as far as they could tell.
Granny took in a long inhale, using the breath to think it over before nodding. “Seems as good a way as any to go,” she said, starting to head off. “Anyone fancy another swim?”
“Not particularly,” Emma grumbled, which was broken off as Granny dove into the river and began to confidently swim toward the stretch of land that Killian had pointed out.
Mulan and David confidently dove into the water, leaving Emma and Killian alone on the shore.
“Just for a little while, love,” he encouraged. “And then we can break off.”
“Yeah,” she said quietly, though if she was honest, she wasn’t really thinking about them. Now that it all had stopped, she couldn’t help but think about Merlin. Her hands shook, and not because of the cold.
“C’mon, Emma,” Killian coaxed, taking her hand in his and squeezing tightly, drawing her back into the present as he always could. “I’m right here beside you. We’ll do this just as we did the last one, aye?”
“As I recall, we spent most of the last Hunger Games apart until we both almost died,” Emma said dryly.
“We’re together now, and neither of us have nearly died yet,” he pointed out.
“It’s been ten minutes.”
Killian laughed and kissed her temple. “Perhaps you have a point, Emma. But do you trust me?”
Emma looked up at him. “With my life.”
“Then let’s go, love.”
The dive into the water was easier now that the suit seemed to be doing its job, though its soft orange glow faded once she stood up on the shore again.
“The suits heat sensors seem to be activated by water,” she pointed out to the others once they joined the group as a whole. David smiled proudly at the observation, but Mulan seemed less than pleased.
“So…hypothermia is still a way to go, and I wouldn’t put it past Pan to kill a few people that way,” she mused, frowning. Emma watched as the woman’s mind seemed to whir intently before she nodded. “Okay. I’d like to get a little further inland, that way if anyone decides to come to the Cornucopia, they can’t see the light from any fire we could make. Or if we’re lucky, we’ll find Pan’s one well-insulated area of the whole arena.”
“Pan? Making something easy for us? Mulan, aren’t you supposed to be practical? Ruby always said she liked that about you or something,” Granny retorted.
Mulan’s cheeks seemed to pinken, though either from the cold wind or Granny’s words, Emma couldn’t say. “Everyone’s a realist compared to Ruby,” she muttered, but there was a note of affection held underneath Mulan’s words. David snorted, shaking his head.
“Can we just go? I’m freezing,” Emma complained to draw the focus away from Mulan and she began to amble forward.
Killian took the lead ahead of her and she was glad to have him in front of her, his eyes peeled for any danger. The rhythm of snow crunching beneath their steps would’ve been comforting, had Emma not been starting to shiver underneath the whistling wind.
Only Granny seemed unaffected by the cold weather as the trudged forward, as everyone’s teeth began to chatter slightly.
“Head to your left, Killian,” Mulan instructed. “I’m worried if we go too far right, we’ll just end up in a circle.”
Killian saluted her before veering left further into the forest. Without any incline, it just seemed like there was an endless array of trees. Though Emma supposed, if no one else had followed them, it could be a good place to hide for a while. Though, their tracks were clearly outlined in the snow, and Emma had to wonder if something they could be done about that.
Her mind whirred over the possibility of going back and generating some sort of false trail, though her tracking skills were not up to par with the rest of the group’s, and she was worried that if she went back to double the trail, she’d never make it back to them.
If another member of their alliance went, it would give them an opportunity to either get picked off by one of the other alliances or sell them out to another alliance, and Emma wasn’t sure she wanted that either. If she raised this idea to Killian, she knew he’d absolutely volunteer to go lay the false trail and she was not about to have that either.
“You all right, love?” Killian murmured softly as they got a little way ahead of the group. “Not too cold, are you? Mulan was worried about hypothermia after all.”
“No, I’m not there yet. Just thinking about some stuff,” she replied softly, trying not to overtly look behind her to the part of their alliance that was just out of earshot. “Tracks in the snow,” she explained to him. “And how we could divert anyone who is potentially following us.”
“Ah,” Killian replied. They were quiet for a moment as he contemplated her worries, before finally answering, “Nothing we can do about that now. Besides, anything that can hurt us we’re liable to hear when they make their own tracks.”
“I guess,” Emma replied glumly. The river soon appeared to their left and Emma groaned. “Well, I guess we found the edge of our section here.” She turned around and looked for the cornucopia. When she couldn’t see it, she let out a small sigh of relief.
She had to admit: the lack of an incline was disconcerting. She felt like she had been walking uphill this whole time. The ground had felt steeper, but nothing in their sightline had suggested that they had ever been walking up at all.
She sighed again, shaking her head to clear it of any discombobulation she was feeling. It didn’t quite work, but it had been worth a try.
The churning of the river and a low humming sound she couldn’t quite place seemed to drown out her sigh, and Killian didn’t even seem to hear her, though he was standing right beside her. Looking around for a moment, the humming seemed to get louder when she looked north, but there was no animal or hive nearby that she could see.
She wondered if this was part of the arena, their first trap laid before them and she tensed at the ready, her hands tightening around the hilt of the sword.
“Mulan?” Killian called. “We’re back at the river, but we’ve definitely moved from the cornucopia.”
“Damn,” Mulan muttered, coming up beside them. She looked out across the other way and saw a small bridge connecting the two sides. “Well, at least if we need a quick escape, we don’t need to get wet. But it still makes it really easy for anyone to sneak up on us, and not a lot of coverage.”
She pointed north. “Let’s head that way.”
“Right.”
They shifted into their formation once again, with Killian taking the lead, Emma behind him and David, Granny and Mulan a little further back.
Emma kicked a rock out of frustration, and it hit a tree. The image of the tree rippled, and Emma realized with a gasp why the woods seemed like they were humming. It wasn’t a trap at all, or at least not in the way she’d been expecting.
“Killian, don’t--!” she called, trying to warn him from taking another step forward.
But it was too late.
He collided with the force field, flying back into the river. He seemed dazed as he hit the water, his limbs barely moving as he tried to keep himself afloat.
“Killian!” she screamed, sprinting toward the water and diving in. The current seemed to pick up as she struggled to swim toward him. “Killian, take my hand!”
Killian seemed to look through her and not at her as he began to slip underwater. It was hard to spot the dark of the suit in the darkness of the water, but she still wouldn’t give up on him.
“No!” Kicking as hard as she could, she dove under the surface of the river to pull him closer to her. He coughed and sputtered weakly when they reappeared, but now Emma had no traction and Killian’s weight was dragging her back under again.
Thud.
Emma could’ve nearly cried with relief when they collided with one of the thick pieces of floating ice. Using one arm to as leverage, she pushed herself onto the block of ice and was able to pull Killian on with both arms once she was safely on.
As far as she could tell, there was no way to get back to land, but David, Mulan and Granny were on the shore, keeping an even pace.
“Mulan, Granny, pull off the thickest branch you can find!” David ordered. “Emma, how is he?”
Killian lay limply against her, his head in his lap. She gave him a little shake, but he didn’t stir.
“No, no, no,” she begged, giving him another shake. “Wake up! Killian!” Tears began to form in her eyes as she kept shaking him. God, she’d lost Merlin, lost her parents…she couldn’t lose Killian. Not now, not on the first day.
Not ever.
“Killian, come back to me!” Emma pleaded, her voice becoming hoarse from the cold. Laying him flat, she began chest compressions, not knowing what else to do for him. “Oh, God! Please, please, please…don’t leave me, Killian, please. We’re not done.”
Nothing seemed to be happening, and she was hardly aware of whatever was going on at the banks. “Son of a bitch!” she hissed and put more effort into her chest compressions, not caring if she hurt herself in the process.
“Killian…come back to me…”
With a gasp, Killian’s eyes fluttered open and he coughed up a little water. Burying her face against his chest, she began to sob, not only for nearly losing him, but for losing Merlin as well. Her entire body trembled against his frame, and his arm came around her protectively.
“Careful, love,” he rasped, an easygoing grin gracing his features. “I think there might be a forcefield at the edge of the arena.”
“Don’t do that again,” she muttered lowly, pressing her lips to his frantically. When they broke apart, she buried her face in his neck. His grip on her tightened, and he used his hook to guide her hand to his chest.
“It’s okay, Emma,” he whispered soothingly. “I’m all right. You saved me.” Trying to lift her spirits, he teased hoarsely, “Well that’s one way to divert anyone tracking us.”
But she was absolutely having none of it. Her breath came in short and jagged gasps as she struggled to hold onto her composure, keeping her mind in the moment.
“Emma?” he murmured concernedly. Pulling back only so they could make eye contact, he asked lowly, “Where are you right now, Emma? Are you with me?”
She shook her head rapidly, her breathing picking up. The world seemed to tunnel in around her, as much as she tried to stop it from happening.
“Hey, hey, hey,” Killian murmured. “Squeeze my hands. You’re all right. Everything’s all right.” Emma squeezed her hands as hard as she could. “Good,” he encouraged softly. “Now breathe with me.”
Off to the side, she could hear David and Mulan arguing about something, but she could hardly care as she looked at her husband, letting his breathing guide hers.
“Good, good…” Killian encouraged gently. “Well done, Emma.” Tilting her chin up to look at him, she knew he could tell that something had happened. His eyes burned with the question, and she shook her head, not wanting to share with the other three nearby. He kissed her forehead, whispering against the skin there, “Tell me when they take first watch tonight.”
She nodded, just wearily curling into him for the moment.
A splash finally got their attention as Mulan entered the river, David guiding the branch that she held onto so she could get to them. “Grab onto me tightly,” Mulan instructed. “David and Granny are going to pull us out.”
Emma was too drained to even ask if they could manage carrying her weight, Killian’s weight, and Mulan’s weight. She just slipped into the water and wrapped her arms around Mulan’s middle.
In an impressive feat of strength from David and Granny, the two dragged the waterlogged tributes across the river and back on their side of the riverbank.
While both David and Granny sank to their knees to catch their breath for a moment, Mulan sprung up with an urgency that Emma was both impressed and terrified of.
“Fire,” Mulan said. “These two are going to need fire especially.” She pointed at Emma and Killian and winced when her arm injury seemed to flare up. David opened his mouth to try and stop her, but the woman pressed on, “The heat sensors in the suits are motion activated and in addition to water activated. We can’t keep going in and out of the water all night, because the heat doesn’t seem to last that long when it comes directly from the suits. So our only other option is for three of us to die of hypothermia and that is not how I’m dying in this Hunger Games.”
“Give me a minute,” David gasped.
“She doesn’t have a minute!” Mulan snapped, pointing at Emma.
“Oh, now I see what Ruby likes about you so much,” Granny teased weakly.
Emma hadn’t realized how badly her teeth were chattering, though if it was from cold or shock, she wasn’t sure. Killian tucked her into his side, though he wasn’t faring much better.
David looked at her and surged up as well. “Right,” he said authoritatively. “We’ll head back half a mile east, gives us coverage and keeps us hidden. Mulan, collect firewood as we go. Granny, can you keep your ears out for trouble?”
“Don’t know if I’ll be able to hear anything over these two chattering, but I can—” Granny started and then her head jerked up unexpectedly.
Emma just squeezed her eyes shut, not even caring what happened next, when the familiar sound of the sponsor gifts sounded. One drifted gently down in front of her and with a shaking hand, she opened it.
The slip read, “I have plenty of time before winter to make more for my family. You need them now.” The name on the signature read Ayanna and in parenthesis below it were the words Imani’s mother.
Rather than tears of horror or shock, Emma couldn’t help the grateful tears that pricked the corner of her eyes, and she pressed her forehead to the metal tin for a moment, unable to help her smile either. “Thank you,” she whispered softly.
“What’s inside?” Killian asked.
Expertly compacted into that tiny tin—no down a Capitol design of the tins themselves--were 5 woven blankets. Killian began distributing blankets to the others, which they gratefully wrapped around themselves with choruses of thanks. Emma pulled one out and gently wrapped it around herself. She knew she had the blanket upside down when she saw Imani’s name beautifully stitched in the section of the blanket that lay closest to her heart.
Bringing Imani’s name up to her lips, she whispered, “I’m still keeping my promise.”
For a moment, the weaving briefly got caught on Emma’s swansong pin and she remembered her promise to Merlin too.
Now was not the time to give up or get overwhelmed by all that was happening. That was exactly what Gold wanted.
Repeating the symbol that she had given to the camera on the day that Imani died, she wanted to make one thing incredibly clear to President Gold.
I am not about to give you what you want.
Chapter 26
Notes:
All right! New chapter, new arena, and new surprises for our Hunger Games tributes!
Emma's found her alliance for now and is learning to trust the people in the arena. It would be a shame if something happened to them.
Chapter Text
Later that night, a roaring fire crackled merrily between the group. Killian was already asleep, curled protectively around her as Emma drifted in and out of consciousness. She was exhausted and he was quite warm, the two of them sharing a winter night that Emma would’ve liked to have at home back in District 7.
The trees almost remaindered of home, but the people around her certainly did not.
Without warning, the Capitol’s theme blared loudly and Emma startled up. Killian stirred beside her and she could feel his heart hammering in between her shoulder blades.
As the tribute names flashed across the sky, Emma counted Isaac from District 3, Ursula from District 4, Gus from District 5, Dorothy from District 6, the two victors from District 8 - Lumiere and Megara, Rapunzel from District 11, and both victors from District 12 - Grumpy and Tamara.
Emma’s heart lurched as she recalled some of them from the Victor’s tour, especially Grumpy, who had been so torn up about the death of his younger brother, Stealthy in last year’s Games. And still, knowing that there were still 15 participants left in the Hunger Games seemed so small.
“Trust me,” Mulan said darkly, though looking up at the treetops. It was then that Emma realized she had spoken out loud. “Nine is not that big of a number.”
But even then, all around her, Emma could see that everyone in their group was affected by the reading of the names across the sky.
“He was a good kid,” Granny muttered thickly, no doubt talking about the tribute from her own district. “I should’ve gone back for him…”
David was sitting with his closed fist pressed against his forehead, quietly murmuring to herself.
Mulan was still staring at the night sky, her hand clenched tightly into a fist with her jaw clenched as if she was trying to hold all of her feelings inside.
Behind her, Killian trembled, and she rolled over to face him, her hand skimming gently across his cheek. “Hey,” she whispered so only he could hear her. “Talk to me. I’m here. I’m right here and so are you.”
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, quietly nuzzling her neck. She felt the dampness of his tears against her skin and she gently pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “I…I hadn’t expected Ursula’s name to affect me as much as it did.”
“Do you wish it was you that had done it? Is that why?” Emma asked, recalling the absolute vitriol with which he’d treated all of the District 4 mentors when they had gone on their tour.
To her surprise, he shook his head before looking up at her. “No. She was my brother’s mentor. If anything, she was the one who tried her hardest to get him to come back…and when he didn’t, and she saw what happened with Ariel…she was furious.”
With a shrug, he added quietly, “She was the one who got me out of District 4. And brought me to 7… And as angry as I was…particularly about Ariel getting to live and be spared I owe Ursula so much because she made all the arrangements for my safety, found 7 and therefore brought me to you…”
Her hand immediately began to card through his hair, and he nuzzled his cheek against her wrist appreciatively. He was quiet for a few moments before he continued, “A lesser person would have just let me go on in 4 and not ever followed up, not ever even would’ve bothered to check if I lived or died. She didn’t owe me anything and still…”
Emma recalled back on when she met Ursula in 4. It seemed like a lifetime ago, and yet…
“If it’s any consolation, I promised to keep my eye on him. And when I realized he’d found his home at last, I let him go live the life that he never could’ve had if he stayed,” Ursula replied. Looking Emma up and down she added, “He founds his home. It may not have been the one the thought he was going to have but he still found it.”
“She seemed very relieved that you found the home you have now,” she offered, though the words she imagined were not much comfort. When his eyebrow quirked in surprise, she added, We spoke about it when we went to 4 and you and I split up for the day.”
“You never stop surprising me, Emma,” Killian murmured fondly, curling back around her. Emma rested her head on his shoulder, burying her face against his neck to brace it from the cold.
She was almost worried he’d fallen asleep when she whispered quietly, “Killian?”
“Aye, love?” His normal accent was thicker with sleep and she couldn’t help her smile, despite the seriousness of the question rattling around in her mind.
“What would you have done if it came down to us and her?”
Killian sat up a little bit straighter, just to ensure that he could look down at her. His brow was furrowed with confusion, or maybe he was slightly indignant. “Emma, you know I would’ve chosen you.”
Maybe she knew but it didn’t stop the flutter in her heart to hear him say it.
It must’ve registered on her face but Killian’s look softened and he lay back beside her again, tucking her against him to keep them both warm. “I… I wish I’d gotten the chance to thank her for giving me a chance to survive. After Liam’s death, I was a wreck because everything at home reminded me of him. And…without him there, surviving seemed pointless. And…she wanted to make sure I didn’t destroy myself. I don’t know if she would’ve done the same thing here…not with her own life on the line, not with everyone watching but…that small act of mercy she showed me three years ago. I should’ve told her.”
Emma placed her hand over his heart. “Well you can live and that’s the best you can do for someone who gave you a new life,” she told him firmly. “And you can live for the people who care about you and love you.”
“Like Whale?” he teased.
Laughing weakly, she kissed him to shut him up. “Like Whale,” she murmured against his lips.
“Hey, um, Emma? Killian?” David called to the two of them. They both flushed a little bit, feeling embarrassed when they realized that everyone’s eyes were on them. “We should really try and get some sleep. It’s a long Games ahead of us.”
“Well, you don’t know that,” Granny pointed out and Emma snorted out a laugh. “Don’t lie to them, David.”
“Fine, fine,” David said and for the first time Emma had known him, she could hear the clear sound of irritability in his voice. Not rage—which was always directed at James and always sounded so discordant coming from him—just normal irritability. “My point is that you better get some sleep. Mulan’s taking the first watch, I’ll take the second watch, one of you should be prepared to take the third and fourth watches.”
“I can take one of the watches. I’m old, not an invalid,” Granny growled at him.
“I know, but…” David started.
“I’ll take third watch,” the old woman stated obstinately.
David’s irritation melted to a weary fondness and he nodded. “Fine. Killian, are you up to taking the fourth watch?”
“Aye, bye the time Granny’s watch ends, I should be feeling all right,” Killian agreed.
“Wait, I haven’t taken a watch,” Emma protested.
“Well, if you’re not dead tomorrow, you can take first watch, how about that?” Mulan asked wryly.
Satisfied, Emma laid back down beside Killian who tucked her in against his chest. It wasn’t long before the warmth of his body and the crackling fire lulled her back to sleep.
--
“Emma!”
She knew the forest was wrong this time. It was clear that she was in the arena, but Imani’s shriek of pain and terror still radiated through the empty night sky. She looked around for Killian, David, anyone who could help her, but found that she was completely and utterly alone.
“Emma!” The cry seemed so close and a frantic desperation drove Emma to spring up and try and find the little girl. If she could find her, she could save her this time. “Emma, help me, please!”
“Imani?” she called out frantically. “Imani, can you hear me? Where are you?”
Gold’s laugh seemed to ring through the arena as bloodstained feathers began to rain from the sky. She saw him standing up on top of a cliff, dangling Imani as if she were no more than a puppet.
As she tried to get closer, Morgarzea’s final, painful cry seemed to swish by her, Walsh’s last painful shriek as a tree branch to her right impacted him.
Graham sat in front her, blocking the road, blood already seeping through his clothes as he told her, his lips tinged blue, “Forgive a guy for trying to stay war—”
Emma bolted awake, all but dripping with sweat and her heart hammering against her chest. She expected the voices to fade as she came into consciousness, but if anything the screams became more cacophonous and distorted.
Everyone around her was disturbed and confused, the voices clearly rousing the others from their sleep as well.
“What is that?” she asked, turning to Mulan and praying the other woman had an answer for her.
But even Mulan, who had been fairly stoic throughout the day so far, was paler than normal, her hand trembling furiously. “I…I don’t know, it started only a few minutes ago.”
Emma looked around fruitlessly, trying to get some sort of clue was to what was going on, what enemy they were expected to fight next.
“Emma, help! I went to get the third column, and I got stuck!”
Now that she was wide awake, Emma could tell that this was no figment of her dreams, and this certainly wasn’t a reaction to being thrust back into the Hunger Games.
It was being done on purpose.
“They’re…they’re voice recordings of past tributes,” she rasped, her eyes widening with the realization. She looked over at Mulan again. “Everything we do when we arrive in the Capitol gets recorded, right? Well, those recordings have to be stored somewhere, don’t they?”
“Which means Pan probably has access to them and would have no problem being able to play them,” Mulan said numbly
“Is this all over the arena?” Killian asked, his voice barely capable of getting higher than a whisper.
Emma didn’t have to guess whose voice he could pick out among the din, and she squeezed his hand as tightly as he could.
Granny stood up and stared off intently before shaking her head resolutely. “It gets quieter the further we get east. Betcha it’s only contained to this section.”
Mulan closed her eyes, smiling thinly. “Well thank god for wolf hearing,” she said, her voice incredibly strained. “Is that why you’re here? So you can turn and maul us to death in your wolf form?”
“I’m sorry, her what?” Mulan’s strange comment was almost enough to distract Emma from the haunting din of voices around them.
Granny just ignored Emma’s question and added matter-of-factly, “Nah, I’m too old for the wolf shape now. But the senses have hung around long enough to give me somewhat of an advantage.”
“And we’re grateful for it,” David replied, gently trying to urge both Emma and Killian east. The two District 7 tributes exchanged an incredibly confused look, but followed as the group began walking east.
Realizing they were on the move, Emma took great care of storing Imani’s blanket in her survival pack so that it wouldn’t be damaged as they walked. She bounded up after them to catch up once it had been safely stored, the pack back on her shoulders.
They’d maybe walked for fifteen minutes before David said, “If you want to tell them, no one will be able to hear you over the shrieking.”
“I can barely hear me over the shrieking,” Granny let out an aggravated sigh. “‘sides, they already gotta know something. They saw that Walsh kid turn into a flying monkey. Boy, if there was ever a mutation I was jealous of…”
“That’s what he was?” Mulan had never sounded more engaged and interested in the entire time Emma had known her. “I always wondered, but I didn’t get to go last year so I only saw the broadcast. No wonder his odds were so good.”
“What was the girl?” David asked curiously. “Her odds were so low that she couldn’t have been anything too powerful.”
“Deer,” Granny grunted out. “She never stood a damn chance.”
“I’m sorry…what?” Emma repeated, feeling very much like she was out of the loop was again. “How do you know all this so casually? Why does no one seem surprised?”
Granny sighed, running a hand over her face. The older woman was clearly at her wit’s end, and Emma felt stupid for asking. She looked in between the other members of her party and was relieved to know that at least Killian looked just as surprised as her.
“Patience, Granny, she hasn’t been a Victor that long,” David murmured, trying to soothe the older woman. “And there’s been a lot of other things going on that she’d had to deal with lately. She would’ve learned if there had been more time.”
“It’s not like I enjoy talking about it, and there’s not many of us alive to talk about it. It’s not like anyone from home enjoys talking about it either. She’s already been to 5, and no one told her then,” Granny growled lowly, all but baring her teeth at David. “Besides, she’s already seen it, how didn’t she put it together?
Then she looked back when Killian stepped protectively closer to Emma.
“We’re all pretty much like this…radioactive mutations from the powerplants pretty much either killed everyone or gave them the ability to shape shift…” Granny muttered as way of a tired and angry explanation.
“Like Walsh and Faline,” Emma realized, looking to David for confirmation. He nodded, giving her a small but strained smile.
“Most of the outside world doesn’t know…but certain Capitol citizens get to come see us. Like we’re a zoo…it’s what allows them to get accurate odds for the betting, and certain sponsors will get an insight so that they can bet,” Granny sighed defeatedly.
Emma’s eyes widened. It made sense for certain members of the Capitol to know, but if two shapeshifting children competed in the Hunger Games every year, how hadn’t they been found out?
“How do they deal with it on air?” Killian asked, voicing what she had just been thinking to herself. “The Hunger Games is supposed to be live. How does the rest of the country not know about this? I mean…Emma watched Walsh murder Graham right in front of her eyes.”
“This sounds like simultaneously the worst and best kept secret in Misthaven,” Emma muttered, and Mulan let out an unexpected laugh.
“It is,” Granny said, her tone incredibly wry. She ran a hand through her hair before explaining, “They doctor the footage on air when they show the games to the district, that despite being ‘live’ there is a delay so if someone shape shifts, they can superimpose a weapon or whatever into their hands, based on the ceiling’s recordings of their training in the days before…”
Emma nodded, folding her arms over her chest as they kept walking. Feeling bereft of something to say, she said lamely, “So…shapeshifting. Cool.”
“It’s actually incredibly painful anytime any of us change,” Granny snapped back.
“So…not cool. Got it,” Emma repeated, her voice trailing off as she shifted her posture defensively.
David squeezed her shoulder and tilted his head so that Emma would lean in closer. “Don’t worry about Granny. I think she’s just a little on edge from being here and she misses her family. Don’t take it personally.”
“I wasn’t,” Emma replied, and it’s true. She wasn’t taking it personally. She could understand how something that personal and painful, that was treated like a spectacle, something to be gawked out and treated as inhuman wasn’t something that needed to be talked about.
“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable by asking about it,” Emma called out softly to Granny. “I really didn’t know…I just…”
“I know,” Granny said tiredly. She looked over her shoulder at Emma. “You know…you remind me a bit of Ruby. My granddaughter. She’s not much older than you both. I remember she was in the Games with Jones’s older brother, but you two have a similar way about you.”
“When we get settled for the night, will you tell me more about her?” Emma asked, hoping this would show Granny she was interested in making peace, at least for now.
For the first time since the Games had started, a fond smile crossed Granny’s face. “Sounds like a plan.”
The mood over the unexpected alliance seemed to shift from tenuous and untrusting to something easy, with this new understanding between Granny and Emma. Since the Games started, Emma was feeling the tiniest seedling of optimism, when the sound of rain started to hit the treetops.
“Son of a bitch!” Emma muttered, wishing that her suit had a hood. She stuck her hand out to judge if it was regular rain or icy rain when her skin began to sizzle when it came into contact with the rain. “It’s acid rain!” she hissed. “We have to run!”
“Shelter! We need shelter!” Mulan immediately began to take off running, looking for shelter. David scooped up Granny in his arms and seemed to be able to keep up with Mulan, even with the extra weight.
But she and Killian were exhausted from the near drowning from a few hours ago. Emma heard Killian’s ragged gasps for air as she tried to drag herself further along. When she looked back, she could see the tears in his suit from the impact with the forefield left his skin more exposed. He tried to muffle his cries, but Emma could see the bright, angry flares of red on his body.
Killian dropped to his hands and knees, wincing as the rain kept pelting his skin.
“Killian!”
She ducked herself under his arm, to try and help him along. Once they were both back on their feet, they tried to help each other move forward, but the stinging, unyielding pain was stopping them from getting them too far. they were lagging, until David, Mulan and Granny were no longer visible.
Killian was getting weaker and weaker, and it seemed as if his weight was dragging her down with him.
“Love…” he panted hoarsely, not even opening his eyes to look at her. “Love, just leave me behind, all right?”
“Not a chance,” she whispered, her eyes fluttering shut as her energy began to deplete. “Together or not at all, remember, Killian?”
“Emma, please…” he insisted, opening his eyes to glance up at her. “We won’t both make it if you keep going on like this. It’s all right, you can leave me behind.”
“We said until death do us part, right?” Emma asked tiredly, meeting his eyes. She cupped his face in her hands. “I meant it, you know.” Shrugging sadly, she added, “I don’t know that I’d make it now if I tried anyway. My body is too sore from before to keep going much further.”
Killian sunk to his hands and knees, bringing Emma down with her. His eyes fluttered shut again as the acid rain kept pelting down on them. In order to try and prolong his life in the hopes that maybe someone would come help them, Emma covered his body with her own, as there were no tears in her suit.
His arms weakly came around her as she buried her face in his neck to try and hide her face.
“I love you,” he whispered into her hair, trying to protect his own face.
“Love you too. But we’re not dying here, got it? Not on the first day. We promised Whale we wouldn’t,” she muttered stubbornly, squeezing her eyes as she tried to avoid the inevitable.
“Aye, love,” he promised, pressing a kiss to her temple.
Emma just laid on top of him, listening to the rain tear through the landscape around them. She squeezed her eyes tightly against the pain, but at the same time the pain was beginning to fade, and the notion that the pain was going away was more frightening and upsetting as each moment passed.
Suddenly, a force tore her away from Killian’s body. Emma let out a weak cry, trying to weakly fight whatever had its hold on her. “No…no, Killian…I have to get back to Killian…”
“It’s all right, Emma.”
Her eyes weakly fluttered open to find herself looking up at David’s face. “It’s all okay now, I’ve got you. Everything’s okay.”
“Killian,” Emma insisted weakly. “Go back for Killian.”
“Mulan’s got him,” David promised, holding her tighter. He looked over his shoulder, presumably back at the rest of the party, slowing down a little bit so he could see them more clearly. “Mulan? Granny? You still with me?” he called.
It was only a few paces before Mulan caught up with them, her breath quicked as she held Killian’s weak body in her arms. Emma could still see the rise and fall of Killian’s chest and let herself be reassured.
Her eyes trained on it for a few long moments before she realized just how long it was taking Granny to catch up with David and Mulan. “I’m here,” the old woman coughed as she pulled up beside them. “I’m with you. We gotta keep moving.” She began to lumber forward, but Emma could see the toll of the day, and the impact of the rain was starting to affect Granny’s gait as well.
Still, David refused to travel further than Granny’s eyesight, stopping so that he’d look backward.
Emma nearly wailed every time he stopped, for the rain would strike against her in a way that was almost unbearable. She wanted it to end, wanting to either just get through it or die and David just kept prolonging it.
Maybe it’s on purpose, she thought weakly.
But as the group carried further on, the light the rain started to get. But they still weren’t out of it, and David had nearly dropped her twice. He was getting tired, the longer he stood in the rain and the longer he waited for Granny.
The old woman stopped stock still for a moment, her eyes scanning the tree line. “There’s a cave about another a mile out… you two could probably make it in 'bout ten minutes from here, even carrying Emma and Killian,” she said quietly.
“Well, that’s not an option,” Mulan said harshly.
Emma’s thoughts were muddled, not understanding right away why Mulan was so upset at the idea of there being shelter nearby. “Huh?” she asked weakly, looking up at David.
“I’ll carry you and Emma,” David replied, kneeling down so that Granny could climb onto his back.
She smacked him in the back of the head instead.
“Ow!” he cried, shaking his head. “What was that for?”
“You’re being stupid, David,” Granny replied, but there was no anger in her words. Only sadness. “You won’t make it…carrying both me and her.” She looked at Mulan. “Part of an alliance is making sure your teammates get their best chance, right?”
“No!” Mulan actually sounded on the verge of tears now. “No, Granny, you can’t do this! I promised Ruby I’d keep an eye on you, keep you safe.”
“You’re just as stupid as he is,” Granny said, still sadly but oh so fondly. “You already kept me safe. Got me through the first blood bath.”
“But she’s already lost Dorothy,” Mulan whispered softly, her voice catching a little bit as she tried to hold back her tears now. “She can’t lose you too. Please don’t do this.”
Emma looked up and weakly tugged on his collar. “Ruby and Dorothy?” she questioned softly. David just gave out a watery chuckle as he straightened up, tucking Emma in closer to shield her from the rain.
“Not now,” David murmured, tears starting to make his way down his cheeks.
“Good luck,” Granny replied sincerely, before sprinting off the way they came.
Mulan stepped forward, her hands shaking as she held onto Killian. “We can’t catch her and turn her around and get Emma and Killian to safety.”
“No,” David sniffled. “We can’t.”
David and Mulan began running, much faster now as exhausted as they were. After about five minutes, a cannon sounded, but the two still didn’t stop running as fast as they could, with Emma and Killian in their arms.
“Just hold on, Emma, we’re almost there…” David groaned, trying to convince everyone in earshot.
“Killian?” Emma called weakly.
“Aye,” he called back, his voice barely audible. “Still here…”
Satisfied with that, Emma closed her eyes and let her head loll back against David’s chest for the moment.
She had nearly faded into unconsciousness when she felt the sensation of falling and her body collided with stone. Her body burned with the pain and she gasped, her eyes flying open.
Outside, the rain pattered, but they were safe inside a cave. Squeezing her eyes shut again for a moment, she tilted her head back, her breaths beginning to slow down to a normal rate as she tried to breathe her way through the shock.
Opening her eyes again, she weakly rolled her head to the side. Mulan and David were lying a little way away from her, slumped over unconscious but still breathing weakly. Killian lay curled in a ball just next to Mulan, but she could see even the small rise and fall of his chest.
“We made it,” Emma breathed out softly.
To her right, a low growling began to ring through the cave, getting louder and louder.
Emma watched as a lion-like creature slowly began to rise, their wings unfurling from their side as its claws were unsheathed. A beautiful woman’s face glared back down at her, the brown eyes cold and unknowable. Lion-like fangs curled over the lower lip as the growling continued from the creature in front of her.
“I spoke too soon,” Emma muttered, closing her eyes and letting her head rest against the cold stone floor again.
Chapter 27
Notes:
Let's see, where did I leave you last...? That's right! Emma, Killian, David and Mulan had just escaped from the acid rain, lost Granny, only for Emma to hear some sort of the growling at the mouth of the cave. What could it be? Well...you're about to find out.
As for me? I'm rapidly approaching the end of writing in my word document and it wouldn't be too unexpected to see a final chapter count appearing very soon. Just how many chapters? Well, you'll see.
Chapter Text
As soon as she spoke, the growling stopped.
At first, Emma thought she was losing her mind, or her hearing had been impacted by the acidic rain, but when she looked over at the giant creature, they were sitting up, still watching her. But the teeth were no longer visible, and the claws were now sheathed.
“Approach, Emma Swan,” the creature spoke, in a voice that was both warm and lyrical. For a moment, Emma tried to sort through the people she knew, feeling as if she had heard this voice before, but ultimately decided that she was probably looking for familiar voices after their escapade with the Tribute recordings.
One more time, Emma looked over to her compatriots. None of them were moving or seemed to be conscious, and Emma knew it had to be her. Wincing, she dragged herself over to the creature’s paws, sitting in front of them. “You know my name,” she said cautiously.
“I know many things,” the creature replied, laying with their belly to the floor, their gigantic paws bigger than Emma’s whole body. “Do you know what I am?”
Emma shook her head, swallowing the lump in her throat.
“One might call me a chimera, as I am made up of more than one kind of genetic material.” Their tail flicked and Emma admittedly found herself struggling to follow. “But you may call me the Sphinx.”
“Are you…do you have a preferred way to be called beyond that?” Emma asked hesitantly. “Like…are you a girl Sphinx or…I guess if you’re different things…?”
The Sphinx laughed, that low and melodic sound briefly reassuring. Their tail idly lashed back and forth, the way Emma had seen cats do when they were content or excited. “The Sphinx is just fine.”
Emma nodded, sitting up straight. “What must I do?” she finally asked, feeling at least for the moment she wasn’t going to be mauled if she could communicate.
“You must pass a test, dear one, as you have entered my domain. In this arena, many of your challenges will be physical…emotional…but this one is mental,” the Sphinx informed her. “I will give you a riddle. If you correctly solve it: you and your alliance will be allowed to take shelter in my domain, and have access to something you all greatly need.”
“And if I fail?” Emma asked, her voice coming out no higher than a whisper.
The Sphinx grinned cruelly now, their fangs proudly on display once more.
Emma nodded. “Got it,” she said, her stomach churning uneasily. This seemed more Killian’s area of expertise than her own. “And it has to be me? I can’t ask for help?”
“But who can help you now, dear one?” the Sphinx replied, though the endearment seemed a little more mocking than comforting this time around. “Your comrades are all in a rather precarious position. And you know better than to turn your back on a beast.”
Emma frowned, thinking this over for a moment. “But if I’m the only one who answers your riddle and I get it wrong, then that should mean they get the opportunity to try if they can, right? After all, it seems like poor sport to hunt those who don’t even have a chance to try and solve your riddle. But if I answer your riddle, then you’ve been bested, and they won’t need to be tested either.”
The Sphinx threw their head back and laughed, higher and crueler, much like the hyena-like animals that had chased her and Killian at the end of their games. “We have a deal, Emma Swan.”
“I don’t like making deals much,” Emma grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest.
“And yet here you are,” the Sphinx replied. “Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
She was lying, but what choice did she have?
“It weighs next to nothing, but no one can hold it for long. What is it?’
Emma thought about things that practically weighed nothing.
Feathers were the first thing that came to mind, as she thought of the day in District 11 when the cloud of white feathers were so easily carried away by the breeze.
But I guess you could just tighten your first around feathers and they shouldn’t go anywhere…
So feathers were out.
The feathers, naturally, made her think of Imani, and she wondered if life was the answer, since eventually all people died and let go of their lives.
But I don’t think that’s it either. The riddle is that it weighs next to nothing, and lives hold weight. Some lives hold more weight than others, so it can’t be that…
Still, the line of questioning had brought her to her parents, and she thought of the forest fire that had destroyed part of District 7 and taken their lives.
Well, fire doesn’t really have a weight because it’s not like…solid or anything, she thought, feeling a little bit better about the answer. And you can’t actually hold it for very long because you’ll get burned and stuff.
But for some reason, she was loathe to say that answer out loud as well. When fire spread, it was more than just itself. There was the heaviness of the smoke in the air, the way the ground was scarred in the wake of fires, and she felt like the riddle was far too simple for that to be the answer.
Emma took in a gasp of air as she’d been thinking so hard that she’d forgotten to breathe regularly.
And then she began to smile triumphantly.
“It’s a breath!” she declared, meeting the Sphinx’s gaze directly.
The Sphinx cocked their head at her, a devious smirk curling across their features. “Are you sure? Think carefully now.”
For a moment, the seed of doubt took root in her stomach, and she almost hesitated and recalled her answer. But then she took another deep breath and it only confirmed what she was thinking. “Yes,” she said firmly, making sure there was no way she could be misunderstood. “The thing that weighs next to nothing, but no one can hold it for long is a breath.”
The Sphinx was silent for a moment, drawing themselves up to their full height again. Emma’s hands shook as she waited for the Sphinx to say or do something, but she did not dare break eye contact with it.
And then the Sphinx stepped to the side, revealing several metal cases behind them. “That’s the correct answer.” Dropping in a bow to Emma, they said, “You have beaten me: these spoils are yours.”
“Thank you!” Without thinking, Emma rushed forward and hugged one of the Sphinx’s enormous legs. The Sphinx let out an affectionate purr before nudging Emma with their nose towards the containers full of supplies.
With a gleeful holler, Emma discovered burn cream and she immediately took as much as she could carry. Ignoring how much her own skin burned, she sprinted back to the people in her alliance. The first person in her path was David and Emma took as much burn cream in her hand as possible and began smearing it across David’s wounds, just focusing on getting him up.
The skin began to repair itself instantaneously, and a peaceful look crossed David’s face. His eyelids twitched as he began to come back into consciousness.
“Emma?” he rasped confusedly.
“Hey,” Emma replied, smiling widely down at him. “Thanks for saving my butt back there. You’ve just taken some medicine. You might wanna give it a minute before you get up or anything.” She rushed over to Mulan, but stopped short to call back to David, “Oh! By the way, there’s a thing in the corner of the cave. They’re called a Sphinx. Don’t attack them. They gave us the medicine. We earned the stuff in the containers at the back of the cave, you can go check it out when you’re up to it.”
David just let out an incredulous laugh, which stopped the moment he laid his eyes on the creature in question. The Sphinx dipped their head in greeting and David let out another incredulous laugh as he slung his arm over his eyes.
David had needed less of the cream than she thought, so there was still enough covering her hand to cover all of Mulan’s wounds. Mulan came to consciousness with a soft curse and an ineffective swing of her hand in Emma’s direction.
“Shit! That hurts!” Mulan hissed, grinding her teeth together against the pain.
“Yeah, that’s the price of being alive, I guess,” Emma retorted, and the Sphinx snorted in amusement from the corner of the cave.
Mulan’s hand weakly went to the hilt of her sword, and Emma said flatly, “Just don’t. It’s a friend.”
Lastly, Emma took as much of the cream that was left in the first tub and began lathering it over Killian’s body. Give the state of his suit, there were some spots that needed second and third applications of the cream.
Where David and Mulan’s rousings were quick, every heartbeat that Killian’s eyes were closed seemed far too long. She looked over her shoulder anxiously at the Sphinx, to see if she could ask it what was wrong or if she was too late, but the Sphinx seemed disinterested in the proceedings as it neatly groomed itself.
“We’ve got to stop meeting like this, Swan…” Killian’s voice finally from below her and she whipped her head around to see his eyes opening.
“Yeah, you’ve really gotta stop making a habit of getting yourself nearly killed,” she teased weakly, pressing their foreheads together. When her burned skin came in touch with his now healed skin, she let out a yelp of pain, one that had Killian sitting up abruptly.
“Swan, have you healed everyone else but yourself?” Killian demanded, his hand hovering over her body, as if he wanted to touch her but wanted to hurt her even less.
“Well, it seemed kinda dire, you know? I was awake, I figured I could wait.” Emma asked thinly. Now that her adrenaline from her encounter with the Sphinx was over, she was finally aware of just how much her body hurt.
“Emma?” David asked concernedly, starting to rise.
“Come on, Emma,” Killian coaxed gently, seeing the anxiety writ on her face. “It’s your turn to be tended to now, love.” He gently situated them, so Emma was reclined against him as he began to apply the burn cream on her body. “I know it hurts, I’m sorry,” he apologized every time she winced.
“You’re incredible though, lass,” he praised softly. “And I’m so proud of you. I can’t wait for you to tell me just how you pulled this miracle off.”
“Trust me, I can’t believe it either,” she laughed softly. Closing her eyes, she relaxed against Killian for a moment as the burning and stinging finally began to melt away to something cooling and soothing.
“Emma?” There was a strange note to Killian’s voice. “There seems to be a rather large creature in this cave with us, and no one seems perturbed by it. Do you know anything about this?”
It was Emma’s turn to finally laugh. “Yeah, that’s the Sphinx. It gave us our presents. I beat it in a riddle contest.”
“And here I thought I was the clever one,” Killian teased in her ear.
“Oh no, trust me you are,” Emma replied, not opening her eyes, just so grateful that they’d survived yet another trial of the Games, that Killian was still in good enough spirits that he was up to teasing her.
She hadn’t quite fallen asleep in Killian’s eyes, the feeling of eyes on her were far too unsettling. Her eyes fluttered openly, and she saw David at staring at the two of them, suddenly reminding her of the reality of their situation.
“Killian?” Emma tucked her face into his neck so that David couldn’t hear her or read her lips.
“Mmmm?” Killian didn’t open his mouth to respond either.
“We can’t be much more than half of us left…I’m not really sure how much longer we can trust them for.”
He pressed his lips to her hair and whispered, “Aye. Do you want to split away and see if we can hide somewhere else?”
“Not right now,” she murmured softly, threading their fingers together. Her voice broke a little bit as she confessed, “I’m really tired all of a sudden.”
Killian’s fingers went to her pulse, and she noticed how badly his hand was shaking.
“Are you cold?” she asked sleepily, cuddling into him.
“Aye,” Killian responded in a tone that Emma decided was not truthful. But he was warm and comfortable and so Emma just allowed herself to curl in closer to him to see if she could try and stop him from shaking.
“I’ll keep you warm,” she promised him.
“What time is it?” Killian asked David, cradling Emma closer to him.
“It’s still dark…no way of knowing what time it is until the sun comes up,” David replied, running a hand over his face. “Least we can do if keep watch though. I think Emma’s earned another rest.”
Emma just let out a tired grunt of agreement, and she could feel Killian’s laugh against her whole body. He was still trembling though and while Emma couldn’t possibly get any closer to warm him up, she still tried to press herself further against him to give it a try.
“Just sleep, love,” he whispered as they lay back down together. “I’ve got you.”
The Spinx began humming a soft lullaby, and Emma did not need to be told twice that she could sleep. Trying to nestle in closer one more time, she finally let herself fall asleep once she was tucked comfortably against Killian.
--
Emma let out a low groan when the light hit her face. She tried to cover her face with her hands, but it seemed a poor use of her efforts and energy. Her eyes fluttered open and she looked around the camp that they’d made for themselves.
The metal containers that the Sphinx had been guarding were now on their sides, the contents of said containers packaged neatly along the back wall in a spot that was easily protected. Emma could see mostly medicine, some food, and—to her relief—containers of water.
Realizing she hadn’t had a drink of water in nearly a day, Emma made her way over to one of the water containers. She opened it and took a drink, taking long and slow sips of the cool water. It was the best water she’d ever tasted in her life if she was being honest, though she was sure that was because she’d been without water for so long more than anything.
At the mouth of the cave, there were more of the gift containers from the sponsors.
Suddenly remembering Imani’s blanket, Emma looked around desperately for her survival pack. It had been on her back when they’d been walking, but she hadn’t thought about it since last night.
There were only three packs laying with the supplies, all heavily damaged by the acidic rain. Frantically, she rifled through them but none of them had Imani’s blanket inside. Blinking back tears, Emma looked up at the ceiling of the cave, putting the back of her hand up to her forehead for a moment.
With a sigh, she looked away toward where Killian was sleeping and saw the blanket pooled around where she had been. With a relieved little laugh, she walked back over and tucked it around Killian, figuring he had tucked it around her while she slept.
Feeling better about the whole thing, Emma went to go explore the sponsor gifts that were now sitting at the mouth of the cave. She read each note carefully, ensuring that she wasn’t opening any gift that wasn’t for her.
There were a few gifts for David, a few more for Killian, and the most for Mulan, which made sense given that she was from District 2. But there were a handful for her as well. When she opened them, they were little notes wishing her luck, accompanied with food.
But there was only one person she was hoping to hear from, and when she found his note, she grinned and held the little capsule to her chest.
“Fantastic work, cherub. Thanks for not dying on the first day.”
Curious, she looked back over at David and Killian’s gifts to see if Whale had sent them anything.
David’s message merely said, “Give back my gift from Tink back, you asshole.” She let out a bark of a laugh and set it back down, making a mental note to try and swipe Whale’s bracelet back from David at some point.
Killian’s message read, “Great work yesterday, Killian. Keep yourself and our girl safe. I’ll do what I can for you both out here. Rooting for you both.”
Emma went back to her own little cluster of sponsor gifts, opening Whale’s almost immediately. It was a container that looked quite similar to the medicine she’d dispersed among her allies. Opening the lid, the smell was much more potent.
Still, Emma couldn’t deny the salve’s cooling effects and how relieving it was on the worst of her burns. She could feel her scalp stinging profusely still. While most of her body had been spared from the worst of the acid rain, her head had remained fully unprotected almost through the whole ordeal.
As best she could, she tried to lather the cream and massage it into her hair.
There was an odd sensation against her fingertips, and she stopped and pulled away. In both of her hands were clumps of her hair. Looking at the damaged remains of her hair, Emma couldn’t help her trembling lip and she sniffled quietly.
Merlin worked so hard to get it right… she thought before she could stop herself. To have her hair damaged felt like destroying the last of his work, and that hurt even more that anything the arena could’ve put her through.
“You’re not actually crying about your hair, are you?” Mulan asked. There was a strange, though nonjudgmental, not to her voice. Emma shook her head and Mulan took that as the invitation to sit beside her. “Crying’s not a bad outlet. It’s only been one day.”
God, how has it only been one day since the Games started?
“That’s what Whale said,” Emma said hoarsely.
“Yeah, I don’t know Whale all that well, I just know David likes him,” Mulan admitted with a shrug. “But if he’s kept you and Killian alive this long, he can’t be that bad. Not many people can say they’re that…lucky.”
“But that’s just the thing of it,” Emma replied, looking at the other woman. “A bunch of people are dead and somehow I keep surviving and it all just feels like dumb luck that I keep making it out of here…”
Mulan thought this over carefully, frowning a little bit. “Well,” she started unsurely. “It can’t be all dumb luck. I mean, you solved the riddle, right? We were all unconscious and you had to do that on your own. You saved everyone’s life here.”
“Yeah, but—” Emma tried, but Mulan held her hand up for silence.
“And you made it through your first game and got the Capitol to pick two winners which has never ever happened before,” Mulan continued, her eyes lighting up with a passion that seemed to melt away the woman’s normally cool exterior. “Is Whale dumb? Is Killian dumb?”
“Of course not!” Emma said indignantly.
“Then don’t call yourself dumb. They believe in you. by calling yourself dumb, you’re not only selling yourself short but the people who think so highly of you, the ones that are proud to call themselves your allies and want to fight alongside you.” Mulan gave Emma a long and hard look that Emma was having trouble deciphering, as most of Mulan’s looks were hard to read.
Still, Emma couldn’t help but think back to Merlin and the guilt in her stomach curdled. “Yeah well…believing in me seems to be getting people killed left and right. And maybe I’m not dumb, but I’m definitely not worth dying for.”
Mulan looked over her shoulder at Killian’s sleeping form before looking back at Emma. “I think there are those who’d disagree with you, Emma.”
She looked back out as the rest of the sun’s rays were beginning to climb over the wintery treetops. It was beautiful, if not a little bit blinding with the way the sun reflected off the snow. “It’s a new day,” Mulan said simply as she stood up.
Emma looked at her as she walked away. Yeah, it’s a new day…the sun is up, that’s how days work, she thought confusedly. Getting up from where she’d been sitting, she walked over to Killian and gave him a little shake. “Hey, sleepy,” she murmured. “We’ve got presents.”
“Good lord, have you been bathing in mint leaves?” Killian groaned, his nose wrinkling as he sat up. He rubbed his eyes, letting out a tired yawn as he looked up at her blearily.
“I take it you don’t like it,” Emma laughed self-consciously, tucking some of her singed hair behind her ear.
“You smell like the concoction my mother used to make us stick our heads over when we were ill,” Killian replied, taking her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. “You sleep okay?” he asked softly.
She nodded, squeezing his hand back. “You?”
“Aye, for nearly dying by acidic rain, I slept like a charm.”
Killian got up and went to his little pile of sponsor gifts. It was more of the same, a little bit of food, a little bit of medicine, and one particularly delighted Capitol sponsor sent him a sharpening tool for his hook. Emma and Killian shared a quiet breakfast together, keeping an eye on any changes to the clouds in the sky.
“I think we should move,” David announced when they’d all finished eating and sorting their supplies. “The cave is decent shelter, but it’s right in acid rain territory. What if we were out getting water and it began to pour down on us again? Plus, we can’t hide in here forever and wait for the others to just kill each other.”
“Sounds like you have a place in mind,” Killian replied, screwing on the cap to his water container.
“I think…remember how last night, Granny said that there was a section where the past tribute voices stopped? And then all of a sudden the acid rain started?” David asked.
“You think that if we move away from this spot then we won’t be in acid rain territory,” Emma realized.
David nodded.
It wasn’t an awful thought if Emma was honest. The worst thing they’d come across at the Cornucopia so far was the Career pack, and they could easily stave the career pack off if it was the four of them against Blackbeard, Gothel, Arthur and James.
Killian tilted his head questioningly at her, seemingly remembering what she had said before they went to bed last night. She nodded a little bit and gave him a small smile, which he softly returned.
“We should move then,” Killian said. “While we can’t see any clouds. Does anyone know their way back to the Cornucopia from here?”
“We’ve been moving northeast,” Mulan replied. “From the cornucopia to here. If you give me a few minutes to figure out what time it is, I can use the sun to guide us back to the Cornucopia.”
“All right,” Killian replied, looking around the cave. “Then the rest of us should probably pack up, take what we need and just go.”
Emma nodded, looking over her shoulder to find the Sphinx. The great beast walked to Emma’s side, and she looked up at them worriedly. “Will you be all right?” she asked.
The Sphinx laughed. “What a question, dear one.” The Sphinx began to stretch, front paws out and backed curbed the way a house cat might. “This is my home for now. Besides, there may be other weary travelers who end up in my domain.”
“But what about after?” Emma asked curiously. “I mean…where do you go once the Games are over?”
The Sphinx looked down at her, a little more seriously this time. “Where do any of us go?” they replied solemnly.
Emma hugged the Sphinx’s leg, burying her face against their fur. “Good luck,” she whispered.
“And may the odds be ever in your favor,” the Sphinx replied. They looked up at the sun, clearly content to bask in its glow for a few moments, before turning and heading back to the cave.
“I can hear Whale now,” Killian replied. “‘You always make the strangest bedfellows, huh, cherub?’”
Emma barked out a laugh. “Except Whale would never say bedfellows.”
“Friend then?” Killian asked as they began to head out of the cave.
“Sure,” Emma said with a sad smile. “Why not? I made a friend with a Quarter Quell machination who could’ve nearly killed us.”
“You made friends with Whale,” David replied cheekily as he walked by. “What’s one more thing that could kill you?”
Emma looked back over her shoulder and gave the Sphinx a little wave before they walked out of the cave and out of sight as they headed back into the forest.
--
“If I never see a bloody flake of snow again, it’ll be too soon,” Killian grumbled. So far the main issue they’d come across as they began to journey southward was the hidden snowbanks. One of them would be walking and then all of a sudden would nearly be trapped neck-deep in the snow with no way to pull themselves out.
If one was alone, it would be very easy to get stuck here and die or get buried by the snowfall that seemed to fall off the trees. In a group though, it usually took only a person or two to lift them up again.
Killian was the most recent victim of this trap, and given that his suit still had tears in it, he was none too happy about the snow that had been pressed against his bare flesh.
Still, Emma couldn’t help but smile to herself at the flakes of snow that were still dusted in Killian’s dark hair. She almost reached out to dust them away but then thought better of herself, simply smiling as they walked.
“Did any of you get thread from your sponsor packages?” David asked suddenly. “When we get to the Cornucopia, I can sew it back up for you.”
Emma stiffened, though at the back of the party moving southward, no one could see her reaction. Still, her stomach churned at the idea of David so near to Killian and with a sharp object. Sure, needles were tiny, but weapons in the Hunger Games had been made with much smaller things.
Suddenly, her mind began to race as she thought of a needle laced with dreamshade. Her heart began to pound against her chest and she found herself moving up closer to Killian just to reassure herself that he was fine and that there weren’t any needles nearby.
“Something behind you?” Killian asked lowly, careful not to draw David and Mulan’s attention just yet.
“No,” she whispered back. “Just…feeling a little on edge exposed like this. We haven’t really come across anything that’s tried to kill us in like an hour.”
“Hey guys?” Mulan called from the head of the group. “You might wanna come take a look at this.”
Looking at each other, Emma and Killian both rushed forward to look at whatever it was Mulan wanted them to see.
They were back where they started, clearly at the banks of one of the sectioned-off pieces of land by the cornucopia. If Emma looked just a little bit further west, she could see where her landing pad had forced her to resurface the day before.
Only…the giant space that had been home to the Cornucopia just a little over 24 hours ago was. Firm indentations in the ground had shown it had been there and that Mulan’s trajectory had not been mistaken.
But the Cornucopia was gone.
Chapter 28
Notes:
I'm so glad you all liked the Sphinx. I was a little nervous about such a drastic change from the original Quarter Quell in Catching Fire, but it seems like it paid off! As for this chapter...you may or may not have noticed, we have a final chapter count! We are hurtling toward the end here, and I hope you all enjoy what I have planned!
Chapter Text
“Where is it?” David asked desperately, pacing forward a few strides just to stand out the edge of the water. He stood fruitlessly on the banks as if he could force it to appear and let out a frustrated growl when nothing happened. “I thought you said you could find it!”
“Well sorry for thinking that a giant metal structure which stayed in the same place the last 74 years could move in less than 24 hours without us noticing!” Mulan said hotly, running a hand through her hair. “This isn’t my fault, okay?”
“Isn’t there any way you can figure out where it went?” David asked, looking around above her and around her.
“Like what?” Mulan asked. “Because I’m not seeing any signs of a big metal structure being moved somewhere in this arena? Has it occurred to you that maybe that this is one of the twists? That there just is no cornucopia anymore after the first day!”
“That can’t be it!” David insisted fiercely.
“I don’t know what else you want from me, David! You’re seeing exactly what I’m seeing, aren’t you?”
Above them, dark clouds started to form, and Emma feared they weren’t out of the way of the acid rain just yet. The water began to churn ferociously as the wind picked up, and thunder rumbled around them.
“What kind of weather is this?” Emma muttered. “Seriously, did Pan team up with a meteorologist for this one?”
Killian huffed out a strained laugh beside her. “Who knows?” They watched for a moment as Mulan and David continued arguing and then he sighed. “I’ll see if I can get them to calm down so the moment we find shelter they don’t kill each other.”
Now would be a good time to slip away, Emma thought, but even as she watched Killian try to get in between them, she still felt like having at least a party of four people with the Career pack still out there was the smartest move she could still make.
The gold of Whale’s band on David’s wrist flashed in the lighting and Emma’s stomach churned again. Whale, what do you know that I don’t? she wondered. You’ve never been in a Games with David yourself, you don’t know what he’s like…
The rain immediately began to pour overhead as soon as Killian began arguing with them. The three of them were shouting at each other about where to go, what blame should be placed on whose shoulders, and just about every other flaw they’d tried to hide from each other over the last 24 hours.
The more they yelled at battled each other, the fiercer the storm around them became. The one still waters were now churning with white capped waves, the rain—thankfully just regular rain and not acidic—began pelting them.
It seemed almost as if the storm was competing against them for a place in the argument. Killian began yelling now too, and a clap of thunder sounded to match his protestations. Emma gasped, her eyes wide with the realization.
“That’s it!” Emma declared, grinning to herself proudly for figuring out yet another of the arena’s puzzles. Looking around, she found a rock to try and stand on. “Hey!” she called, waving her arms at them. “Hey! Don’t you see it? We’re causing the storm!”
But they just ignored her or maybe couldn’t hear her as another crack of thunder sounded above their heads. “Cut it out!” she hollered, her grin beginning to fade. “Cut it out or we’re all going to die!”
Seeing not much end to the fight happening in progress, Emma looked over her shoulder as the waves churned mercilessly. Something had to get them to stop them from fighting, otherwise they’d never make it out of this part alive, surely. Water began to lap at the shores more furiously and nerves began to settle in Emma’s stomach.
She had to get their attention. She had to get them to stop fighting so that the storm would finally settle down.
I really hope I’m right, she thought. Taking a moment to swallow down her fear, she leaped into the water. She could hear Killian calling her name in terror before a wave rolled over her head and pushed her under.
Scrambling, she tried to get her head back above water, but another wave buffeted her back under.
She wanted to cry out for Killian, but every time she opened her mouth for air, it seemed only to be filled by seawater. She wanted so badly to breathe, but she knew she couldn’t because she wasn’t able to get a full breath of air, since she was getting water with it every time she tried. She felt like her heart was beating in her ears, her head, trying to break out of her chest.
Oh god…oh god, I’ve made a huge mistake, Emma thought, squeezing her eyes shut. I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up for…
Her arms began to get really heavy, and just when she started to sink, a strong pair of arms surrounded her and began to pull her upright. She coughed and sputtered, squeezing her eyes shut as she curled into the solid body that had her anchored. “Huh?” she whimpered.
“You’re okay, you’re okay,” David tried to soothe softly. “I’ve got you, okay? Just hold onto me tight and we’ll get you out of here.”
Emma nodded, clinging tightly to David. She coughed as she did so, still struggling with the feeling of not being able to breathe, but at least her head was firmly above water now.
“I’ve got her!” David yelled to Killian and Mulan on the shore. “Now pull!”
Killian and Mulan pulled David and Emma along, until Emma was back on the shore. Killian shoved David aside and pulled Emma into his arms, peppering kiss after kiss against her hair, before kissing her cheeks, her forehead, her nose, every bit of skin he could get.
“What the bloody hell was that for!” he demanded with tears in his eyes.
Looking out over the expanse of the waters that were now beginning to calm down, she pointed weakly to the Cornucopia, which had suddenly reappeared. “See?” she rasped, proud of herself though exhausted as she nuzzled up against Killian’s side. “I told you. We were causing the storm…”
Killian laughed and just cradled her close, his tears barely noticeable against her hair and face. “Emma, you wonderful, infuriating woman…” His hand felt warm against her skin and she happily nuzzled up against it.
“David!” a voice called from the banks of the cornucopia.
“Snow?” David called, his head jerking up immediately. He rushed over to the edge of the bank that he was on. “Snow!”
“There’s a walking bridge! About a mile to the east of you!” she called back. “It’s narrow, but you can make it!”
“I’m coming!” he called, already rushing off to find it. Emma could see how a few more people on the other side with Snow, and she remembered the alliance that had disappeared into the woods yesterday. It seemed that everyone in their alliance had survived the first night.
That’s a large group, Emma thought nervously.
Mulan frowned and looked perplexed as David ran off toward the cornucopia. She seemed to be assessing just how many people were on the other side as well.
There was a moment when she seemed to hesitate, almost as if she was going to bolt entirely before she walked back and offered herself as a crutch for Emma. “That was a very brave but very stupid thing you just did,” was all she said.
“I can walk,” Emma protested softly, though being held up by both Mulan and Killian made it a hell of a lot easier.
“But then what if you impulsively decide to jump in the water again, then what?” Mulan asked wryly and Emma laughed weakly in spite of herself. “I don’t know about Jones here, but it’s a hell of a lot easier for me to drag you across land than it is for me to drag you in the water.”
“I agree, love. Just let us do this for you, aye?” Killian murmured softly.
While Emma was tempted to close her eyes, she kept an eye on David and Snow. David had seemed so sure yesterday that he would find Snow again. And all of a sudden, here she was? It seemed more than suspicious.
After all, David had been the one to suggest leaving the Sphinx’s cave.
Had he known Snow was going to be here? Had they planned this somehow before the Games? To split up and then be reunited? For what purpose?
To gain Killian’s and my trust? To lure us back all together? After all…these Victors know each other. If they wanted to turn on Killian and I? They could…but why would Whale let them do that? Unless they deceived Whale as well.
Emma just frowned as they kept moving closer. No movement seemed to be happening around Snow, she just was talking animatedly to David, holding his hand and kissing him errantly.
“Gross,” she muttered in spite of herself.
“Like you’re not like this with Killian all the time?” Mulan asked confusedly. “What about this could possibly be gross to you?”
Killian and Emma both blushed but didn’t say anything as they moved closer.
“Oh, Emma!” Snow cried, rushing forward to help Killian and Mulan with Emma. Emma just curled in closer to Killian as she came closer, not thrilled to be this close to someone she didn’t fully trust in the moment. “Are you all right?”
David frowned at her, moving closer too, and Emma tried to press in closer to Killian. “Are you feeling okay, Emma?”
“Fine.” She didn’t want to meet their gaze, so she looked at the ground. Her mind kept churning on ways she could escape, how to communicate this to Killian without getting caught and if it was worth taking Mulan with them or worth going on alone. “Just tired…been a long day of travel and then getting knocked around by the water…”
Looking up a bit she said lightly, “Looks like it was a good thing David convinced us to leave the spot we’d set up in, otherwise we’d never have found you.” She tilted her head up at the man and asked, “How did you know it would all work out anyway?”
“I just had a feeling,” David said serenely, but it did not ease Emma’s mind at all.
Snow clapped her hands together. “Why don’t we get you set up on the far interior of the cornucopia?” she asked kindly. “And that way, you can rest after all you’ve done today! After all, David would’ve never found the Cornucopia without you!”
“I’m jealous of how Pan found a way to use noise levels to concoct a storm and connect the storm’s appearance to the visibility of the cornucopia,” Belle said wistfully, approaching the group. “If we weren’t all about to die, I’d love to pick his brain about it. It’s a beautiful piece of technology this arena, truly.”
“Yeah, real beautiful,” Emma said wryly, her eyes flashing to Killian. He seemed to get the message and he scooped her up, carrying her away from the group as they clustered around each other. Mulan stood a little ways away, in between the group of friends who all knew each other and Emma and Killian.
Emma tucked herself into Killian’s side, suddenly worn out. “Is drowning always this exhausting?” she muttered to him, and he laughed softly, kissing the top of her head.
“Aye, yes, it is,” he murmured, pushing her hair back. “You should be lucky you haven’t got hypothermia with it.”
“Don’t jinx me, Killian. It’s still only Day 2 of the Games,” she replied as they sat further back. Killian took Imani’s blanket out of Emma’s survival pack and wrapped it around her.
“They don’t appear to be on the move for now,” he said softly, watching the group of adults out of the corner of his eye. “We can rest for now if you’d like. I’ll keep an eye on them and wake you up if anything happens.”
“And if they murder you and slit my throat in my sleep?” Emma asked, raising an eyebrow at him.
“If they were gonna slit your throat, they would’ve done it when you were incapacitated between Mulan and I. Unless they put you further back so you can’t run away,” Killian reasoned. “At any rate, it’s probably more comfortable dying in here than out there.”
“I’m so glad they have my comfort in mind as they’re plotting my death, how very considerate of them,” Emma said dryly, looking up at her husband flatly. Killian chuckled and situated them so Emma was fully reclining against him, her head resting on his chest with the blanket tucked around her.
“Will you watch them?” Emma asked him softly, her lips against one of the open tears in his suit. “I don’t trust such a big group…”
“Nor I,” Killian agreed. “But Whale did say the Quarter Quell was different from a regular Hunger Games. And he hasn’t steered us wrong so far.” He looked down at her, watching her face closely. “Do you want to go? Only the two of us can sneak out no problem, I’m sure…”
“Not yet,” Emma muttered quietly, tucking herself against him more closely. “I don’t know how far I’d get right now.”
“Okay,” Killian said. “Why don’t you sleep a little bit, and we’ll assess again what’s happening, aye? Might as well take advantage of some sleep. Even if it’s just a short nap, you can regain some of your strength.”
“Yeah,” she mumbled, wrapping her fingers around his hook.
“I’ve got you, Emma,” he promised softly against her hair.
“I know,” she replied sleepily and she felt his smile against his forehead.
--
It was dark when Emma’s eyes opened again. She was warm and content between the blanket, Killian’s body heat, and a nearby roaring fire. She rubbed her eyes and sat up straight, and she felt Killian pull back to give her some room to get settled.
“How long have I been out?” Emma muttered, rolling her neck to soothe some of the tension out of it.
“Just a few hours,” he answered, looking down at her. “Look at me for a second, love?” She sat perfectly still as he checked her pupils, felt around for any lumps on her head, and used his hand to check her breathing. “How do you feel? Do you feel like you need to clear anything?”
Emma took in a deep breath and shook her head. “No, I think I’m okay,” she told him assuredly. “It feels normal to breathe and everything…” She shuddered as she recalled how awful it was to try and take a breath against the waves. “What’d I miss anyway?” she asked lightly, trying to change the subject.
“Not much, they’ve mostly been talking about what they’ve seen in the arena. Apparently, we missed out on zombified ice tigers, an icicle giant, and what possibly could’ve been more flying monkeys like Walsh,” Killian replied. “We haven’t eaten yet. Snow would like to eat as a group…”
His jaw twitched at the end of the sentence and she was glad that Killian felt the same way she did. “I’m thirsty. Do you want to get some water?” she asked lightly, slowly standing up. He nodded and stood up with her, gathering their canteens.
They began to walk toward the mouth of the cornucopia when a shadowed figure appeared at the entrance.
Killian raised his hook and Emma went to grab her sword when a very annoyed voice sounded. “Will you two relax before you hurt yourself with those things?”
“Regina!” Mulan recognized the voice almost immediately and drew her sword quickly.
“Relax, relax!” Snow declared, moving in between Emma and Regina. “Regina is a friend.”
“That is…highly unlikely,” Mulan said suspiciously. “How do we know she’s not with the Career Pack?”
“I have been with the Career Pack, that’s the whole reason why I’m here,” Regina spat crossly.
“Come in, come in,” David said encouragingly. “We have fire. Have you had enough to eat and drink today?”
“Are you crazy?” Emma asked skeptically as Regina crossed into the cornucopia and sat beside the fire.
“David, you know that I’ve been kept well fed,” Regina replied snidely. She took a canister in her hands and unscrewed a small tube in the top. “We got our instructions from our Capitol sponsors and as soon as I did, I figured it was time for me to come and share the news…”
“Well, it’s good to see you,” Robin said cheerfully as he made space for Regina by the fire. “I was starting to get worried about you when we hadn’t heard from you yet.”
Regina rolled her eyes at him. “It’s only been like a day, you can’t have expected me to have gotten orders within the first few hours, could you?”
“Ah, but can you blame a man for worrying, my fair lady?” Robin teased and Regina blushed slightly.
“Okay, she has to be lying,” Emma said defensively, her sword still pointed at Regina. “People just don’t give orders to the Tributes of who they’re supposed to be killed next. It’s a free for all, not a hit list.”
All the adults looked in between each other. “Well…”
“Don’t you see?” Felix demanded, his voice rising in both pitch and volume. The beasties seemed to enjoy this, the pitch and frequency of their laughter joining his. “It’s not us who wins! It was never us!” His voice dropped to a whisper. “They’re the ones that win. And they’re not even playing the game fairly…the lists, the supplies, the orders…and I’m still not the winner here.”
Emma’s hands curled into fists out of sheer frustration. Of course they all had known about this the whole time. Of course they did.
“Usually the Career packs get the orders, given that they’re the favorites,” Snow tried to explain quickly.
“And we’re just supposed to trust her?” Killian asked, jerking his head at Regina. “How do we know that she didn’t fake it? Or that it’s not just a setup to get us to lower our defenses before the other four come in here and attack?”
Lancelot, who hadn’t said much, simply nodded at Killian as if he respected Killian’s perspective in the matter. “Well, Regina?” he asked, raising an eyebrow though Emma could tell he was just humoring Killian at best. “Are you here to lower our defenses?”
“Do you really think I would’ve just waltzed right in if that was my plan?” Regina snapped and Lancelot just let out a huff of a laugh under his breath. “I would’ve dispatched with David in a heartbeat and just gotten it over with if that was the case.”
Suddenly, the entire cornucopia became incredibly still.
“Is David the target?” Snow whispered, the color draining from her face.
For the first time since entering the Cornucopia, Regina looked contrite. “Yeah,” she whispered. To David, she added, “Sponsors figure your death will spark a reaction in everyone in our alliance. Plus, you’re a heavy hitter and it leaves a lot in this group vulnerable.”
“Well, we just won’t let that happen!” Snow declared defiantly. “What we can do is…”
Emma turned around on her heel and all but began to walk to the edge of the bank for some water. She jerked her head subtly at Killian, asking him if he wanted to come with her. He gladly followed her to the bank and waited while she filled up her canteen with water.
Emma followed his gaze as the group they had been with seemed to pull in tightly together, whispering about plans and matching strategies.
And Emma hated it.
They were all each other’s friends, all Whale’s friends, and once again, Emma was reminded that she and Killian were the youngest of the group, only recently Victors and the others had no reason to trust or protect them.
Moreover, it was suspicious that they seemed to just trust Regina. Emma’s every instinct, built in her from her own Games and everything that happened after, screamed at her to either get away or kill Regina now for some security, to eliminate another person that could just kill her later on.
“Emma?” Killian asked quietly.
“It’s not good,” she replied, taking a long drink. While the water during the storm had been inexplicably salty, this was fresh as if it had come from District 7. “We’re in a really visible spot with a lot of people who seem to know stuff we don’t and I don’t like it.”
“Aye, I don’t either,” Killian agreed, taking a swig of her canteen as well. “I know Whale insisted that we ally ourselves with these people but…”
“They have no reason to ally themselves with us, except out of duty to Whale,” Emma finished. “And that’s not going to get them out of here.” She shifted from foot to foot nervously before saying quietly, “I want to go. Right now.”
“Aye, we should go,” Killian replied, not moving his mouth much so they wouldn’t draw attention. “But it’d be unwise to go back out into the forest with the Career Pack still roaming about. Especially since we don’t know what Regina’s true intentions are. She may be double-crossing this group for all we know.”
“Why would she?”
“Why wouldn’t she?” Killian asked. “She’s from District 1, her odds are in better favor with the others in that pack, and truthfully? With the exception of James, there’s no one in the Career Pack that she couldn’t best. I watched her in training. She’s vicious. She wouldn’t be here if she wasn’t. And I think they’ve all made a mistake to trust her.”
“I agree,” Emma replied. “She’s got a grudge against Snow, did you know that?” Killian shook his head. “Tink told me, the night of the press conferences.”
“All the more reason why they shouldn’t trust her,” Killian said grimly. He tilted his head a little bit, watching Regina curiously. “Let’s keep an eye on her. And the minute we see how she’s going to act, whether for them or against them, we’ll decide from there. Does that sound fair, love?”
Emma nodded. “Gives us one less variable to worry about,” she agreed, gently tapping her head against Killian’s shoulder. “’m glad you’re with me here,” she said quietly. “If it had been Whale, I would’ve just run into the forest, and he probably would’ve torn all his hair out.”
Killian chuckled lowly. “Well, to be fair, I almost tore all my hair out when you jumped into those raging seas.”
“Stay with me?” Emma asked quietly, slipping her hand into Killian’s.
“Always,” he promised, giving it a gentle squeeze.
The two district 7 tributes headed back to the cornucopia. All eyes turned on them and Emma quickly came up with something to say. “Water’s drinkable now. When I was in there before it was salty, but we just tried it and it’s clear to drink. We can fill up everyone’s canteens if you’d like.”
“Good idea,” Archie proclaimed, getting to his feet excitedly. “Why don’t I help you two fill everyone’s canteens. All this talk of explosives has me on edge.”
“Explosives?” Emma repeated, dumbfounded. “How in the world did they get explosives?”
“It was a gift,” Regina said idly as if this was a thing that happened every day. “That’s why I made it over here, they’re planning on using the explosives against you all to get you to scatter, hoping to kill David in the process. Then any of the remainder they’ll just bury out in the arena and hope you come across it.
Belle’s eyes widened and she sat up a little straighter. A slow grin began to creep across her face, and she grab a stick and began waving it around, as if she were drawing on an imaginary chalkboard.
“I take it you have an idea?” Lancelot asked warmly, looking at Belle approvingly.
“Regina, what style of mine are they?” Belle asked urgently.
Regina looked at Belle, raising a perfectly manicured eyebrow. “Are you joking? Do you really expect I’d come in here with design specs and everything? I don’t know. They’re just regular explosives. Like the ones that they use for the Tribute pods.”
Belle let out a squeal of excitement and clasped her hands together. Lancelot just laughed again affectionately and sat beside her. “What if we can get Regina to get the explosives from the career pack?” she asked the group excitedly, nearly hitting Lancelot in the face with the stick in her exuberance. “And then, once we get a hold of them, we rebury them and get them to explode on a timer rather than pressure?”
“How would we accomplish any of that?” Emma asked slowly.
“Well getting the explosives from the career pack would be the hard part—” Belle started.
“How is that the hard part?” Emma interrupted. “How can we even hope to accomplish any of this?”
Belle leveled Emma with a flat stare. “Because I designed those explosives. I know exactly how to rig them to make them explode on a timer. Even if they don’t take out any of the career pack with them, it’ll probably take out a lot of the arena traps! And especially if we set them up near the edge of the forcefields, it might rebound hard enough that it’ll do even more damage!”
Belle seemed to get starry-eyed over the mechanics and turned to Lancelot to explain it more in-depth.
Emma wished she could say it soothed her worries, but in fact, it only increased them. At one time, she’d asked for Belle to be her ally, but now it seemed suspicious that the woman was even here at all. It was clear she had a brilliant mind and knew a fair amount of Capitol secrets.
Moreover, it seemed like everyone knew that Belle knew so much more than she ought to. That made Emma beyond nervous, and it made her feel more and more like she was walking into a trap she couldn’t see.
She looked at Killian and he nodded, heading toward the back of the Cornucopia to get their things.
They were leaving.
Now.
If they stayed a minute longer, Emma knew they’d be caught up in something that she didn’t understand and felt that it would ultimately get her killed.
Let the adults fight it out amongst each other. I don’t want any part of it, Emma thought, slipping out to the entrance of the Cornucopia just so she could breathe. Archie was hunched over the river, and at first Emma thought he was just filling up their canteens.
Then a sound of the strangled gasp reached her ears, followed shortly by the ring of the cannon as Archie flopped face-first into the water.
From the ink blank lake around the Cornucopia rose James, a wicked grin crossing his features.
“Hello, Emma,” he said pleasantly as he emerged from the water, flanked by Blackbeard, Gothel and Arthur. “It’s so good to see you again. I believe you have a friend of ours.”
Chapter 29
Notes:
Oh look...we have a final chapter count. And not only that, there's only one more chapter left int his whole fic! Wild.
Chapter Text
The boom of the cannon brought David and Snow to her side immediately. “Emma!” David cried out. His worry immediately turned to fury when he saw Archie lying dead in the water and James in front of him. “You!” he snarled.
“Oh relax, would you, David?” James said in that gratingly pleasant tone. “We’re just here to collect our pet rat.” Snow notched a bow into her quiver, pointing it directly at James. James, by and large, seemed completely unimpressed. “Oh, it’s like that, is it?” he said with a disappointed sigh. “What a shame. I’d hoped we would have just left on our merry way with Regina and tow and let you live for another day. But it seems you’ve already made the choice for us.”
“Not that it matters now anyway,” Gothel sneered. “We’ve hidden the bombs where you won’t be able to find them. After all, Regina behaved exactly as we expected her to.”
Emma looked over her shoulder. Regina, to her credit, looked shocked and a little bit guilty.
Lancelot stood up, drawing a dagger, but an arrow whizzed by Emma’s cheek and struck him in the chest. The cannon went off as Emma whipped her head back to look at Gothel.
“That’s two down now,” she said, her tone saccharine. “Eight to go.”
David drew his sword, as did Emma.
Get through this, and you and Killian can separate yourselves from everyone else after, she thought, ducking as Gothel loosed another arrow. By her side, Snow launched an arrow, which hit Blackbeard in the shoulder but didn’t deter him much.
“Robin!” Snow called. “We could use your help!”
“Come further in, Snow!” Robin called. “We have the high ground up here, a better advantage on the shot!”
As Snow slipped further back into the Cornucopia, Mulan rushed forward, sword drawn. With a quick parry, she deflected one of Gothel’s arrows as it headed for Snow’s retreating form. Arthur rushed for them to try and get Mulan off surprise, but he was no match for her.
“Pin the ones in the cornucopia!” James ordered, nodding at Blackbeard and Gothel. The two nodded and began rushing up toward the entrance to the cornucopia.
David and Emma came down together to try and stop them. James surged forward so, at the very least, Gothel could get by the two of them and head further into the Cornucopia. David’s sword met James’s machete and Emma ducked underneath James’s arm to try and deter Blackbeard.
Using his momentum, he was able to use his parry to send her sprawling to the side. As she turned out, he sprinted further forward, disappearing into the Cornucopia.
“Bastard!” she heard Killian cry out, no doubt at Blackbeard.
“Emma!” Mulan gasped, coming over. There was blood dripping from her cheek. “Your arm, are you okay?”
“Huh?” Emma hadn’t even noticed that Blackbeard had gotten her on the strike. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
“We have to run,” David panted, coming up to them. “Into the forest, so we can split them up. We’ll come back and reconnect with everyone later. But for now, we have to give them their best chance.”
“But—”
Emma barely had time to protest as James and Arthur began to advance on the three of them. Looking past them, she could see Killian standing tall as he found back-to-back with Robin.
“Killian!” she called as David began to usher her away.
“Emma!” Killian tried to surge forward to join them, but Blackbeard was in the way. She was too far away to hear what he said, but it made Killian’s face darken with fury.
“Come on, Emma, we have to go!” David said, urging Emma again toward the bridge that they’d come across not that long ago. Emma was beyond thankful she had rested earlier in the day, otherwise she didn’t think she would make it without Arthur and James catching up.
“Can we weaken the stability of this bridge at all?” Emma asked as she ran. “Any stones we can knock loose?”
“I’m not sure,” David replied. “You look, I’ve got your back.”
Emma did her best to look around and found one of the stone pillars had a loose rock. Bending over the bridge, she used her sword to loosen the rock, so that it came crumbling down, taking a section of the bridge with it.
David swiftly picked her up and the two went running back toward the forest.
“Let’s just hope they’re not fast swimmers,” David panted when they reached the other side.
Desperately, Emma looked across the shores. On the one hand, it meant that James and Arthur were stuck from pursuing them, at least for a little while. She saw James dive right in and Arthur not behind him, so it was clear that they weren’t going back to try and help Gothel and Blackbeard.
The sound of the cannon reverberated, and tears filled Emma’s eyes. She tried to see if she could see Killian from across the shore, but with everyone still further inside, she couldn’t make anything out.
“Come on,” David murmured, putting his hand on her shoulder. “We have to keep moving.”
Emma shrugged it off angrily and followed Mulan into the forest, hoping more than anything that the cannon hadn’t been for Killian.
--
“Emma,” David started as they trekked through the forest. It’d been an hour by Emma’s estimation, and there was still no sign of whether Killian was alive or not.
“Don’t talk to me,” Emma snarled lowly.
“Emma,” David tried again, slipping in front of her to stop her. Mulan, to Emma’s great relief, kept on moving ahead and didn’t bother to try and convince Emma or David that one side was right compared to the other.
“I know you’re worried about Killian. I’m worried about Snow. Let’s just deal with Arthur and James, and we can get back to them,” David said, trying to calm her down. “I’m sure everyone is just fine. We have bigger problems though now, right? Let’s solve those first, and we can get back to the people we love.”
“And what if they’re not there to get back to?” Emma asked angrily, clenching her hands into fists. “We could’ve stayed! We could’ve helped them! We were eight against four, we could’ve won that fight no problem!”
“We started off at ten to four and they dispatched Archie and Lancelot without getting a single scratch on us,” David reminded her. “Now, let’s keep going.” He turned around and began to walk away.
Emma’s gut churned as she followed. Now more than ever, her mistrust of David flared in her stomach. He had separated her from Killian. It all seemed far too convenient that Regina had shown up when she did, then the Career Pack, and now she was traipsing alone in the forest with David and Mulan.
If they turned on her, she would’ve at least stood a chance with Killian by her side.
Alone?
Well once they got rid of James and Arthur, she’d have to find out how quick she could be to get away from them so that she could get back to Killian.
Or maybe she didn’t have to wait to go back to Killian.
She stopped dead in her tracks, making quite a bit of noise as she did so. “I’m not going any further until we go back for Killian,” she threatened.
“Emma, we can’t go back for them right now,” David replied with a sigh. “I know you’re worried about him. Believe me, I know. But it’s not going to do us any good to retrace our steps right now.”
“You don’t have to come with me,” Emma challenged, stepping closer as she glared at him. “I’ll go by myself then. It’s not like you care about what’s best for me anyway, you’re just looking to get yourself out of here alive!”
She didn’t understand the look of heartbreak in David’s eyes, but it only incensed her, rather than cool her down.
“Um…hey, before you do that, Emma?” Mulan said nervously, causing both David and Emma to turn around and look at her. “Have you both ever seen explosives before? Because, ah, I think I found what the Career Pack was hiding.”
Confusion was enough to subdue Emma’s ire for now and she pushed past David to go see.
At the base of what Emma considered to be the largest pine tree she’d ever seen in her life was a gigantic bag. Inside were silver balls that had a faint orange glow around the middle.
“Are these it?” Emma asked, looking at them. She didn’t dare touch them for fear that they were already rigged to explode. “How do we know how they’re set to go off?”
“Well, you could always touch one and find out,” a sardonic voice sounded from behind them. Emma whipped around at James’s voice, her throat suddenly dry. “Well, I didn’t expect you to find it this quickly, but then again, I hadn’t expected you to collapse the bridge, Emma. You’re so much smarter than they give you credit for. It’s an irritation I look forward to not have to dealing with any longer.”
His hand rand lovingly across his machete as he stepped closer to Emma. “It’ll be such a delight to pick your brains, Emma,” he said threateningly, pointing the machete at her. “I’ve been waiting for this since the day we met.”
“You’re not gonna lay a single hand on her, James,” David snarled, stepping in front of Emma protectively, his sword already drawn. “You’ll have to kill me first.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about me killing you,” James snarled. “I just won’t kill you first. I’ll let you bleed out nice and slow so you can watch her die. Just another young girl you failed to protect, just like when you lost your daughter, hmm?”
With a roar of fury, David launched himself at James and the two weapons met with a startling clang. The weapons were one way to tell each twin apart, but every so often, a flash of gold would pass Emma’s vision and she was able to locate David again.
Arthur gladly slipped by the two dueling tributes and came forward toward Emma, his sword raised. “Fancy a rematch, Emma?” he taunted. “It’s one thing to fight in the training room, but there’s no one to stop me from killing you out here.”
“I’ll only take a rematch if you’re looking forward to losing again,” Emma replied, raising her sword, and shifting her stance the way Mulan had taught her. “Be a shame for you to waste all those investors’ money by getting killed by the Swansong, wouldn’t it? I’m sure somebody’s put a nice bounty on my head, even if they don’t think you’re up to the task.”
With an angry cry, Arthur’s blade met hers, trying to get her to buckle under his weight. But her stance was firm, and she stood tall, easily holding back Arthur’s strike. Using her weight to her advantage, Emma swiveled around him, sending sprawling backward toward Mulan. Slipping on a tree root, he went sprawling onto his back, looking dazed and frustrated.
His sword went clattering to the side, and Mulan stood with her foot on his stomach faster than he could blink. Before he could even react, Mulan quickly pierced his chest, twisting her sword in as he let out a grunt of pain.
“I always knew I’d get to beat you one day in a fight,” she hissed, pulling the blade out of his chest before piercing him again. Arthur’s cry was cut short by a third jab, and the cannon sound barely moved the tall and steady pine tree. “I’d say it was a shame it had to end like this, but I’m really not.”
“One down, one to go,” Emma replied, turning around toward James and David, who seemed locked in an incredibly tense battle.
David and James seemed evenly matched as they kept fighting each other, expertly navigating not only the terrain but what the other would do despite never really having fought each other before. Still, there was an unnerving smirk on James’s lips that Emma didn’t like, and suddenly, she realized why.
When David swung to the left, James ducked under his arm and elbowed David as hard as he could in the face, sending David to his knees. Emma rushed forward as James raised his sword above his head, her own sword drawn to try to protect David.
“I’ve waited a long time for this. Give your daughter my regards, will you?” James taunted as he began to bring down his sword. “Hopefully, Snow will already be waiting for you.”
But his movement upward was too wide, and with a powerful surge, David ran James straight through. With a bloody gargle, James sunk to his knees, and David used James’s chest as leverage to remove the sword.
“Huh…” James whispered. “How about that.”
He collapsed into the snow, his eyes staring blankly up at the sky. The cannon sounded and Emma’s stomach lurched as she realized they were no longer being pursued.
Her shoulders came up defensively, and she looked between Mulan and David nervously, wondering if either of them would attack her now.
David walked toward her, holding his sword for a moment. She tightened her grip around the hilt and puffed up her chest, hating the way that her heart pounded at the way he approached.
When he stood before her, David knelt down in front of her, so he was underneath her line of sight and no longer towering over her. “Did he hurt you?” he asked gently. Emma shook her head, pursing her lips together. “Good.” David smiled kindly and then looked between her and Mulan. “Let’s take care of these explosives. And then we can figure out what happens after. Does that sound like a plan?” he asked, his gaze fixed on Mulan.
Mulan let out a sigh of relief, lowering her weapon slightly.
David turned to look back up at Emma. “Emma?”
“You promised we’d go back for them,” she reminded him, hating how childlike her voice sounded in the moment. “Once we took care of the Career Pack, you promised we could go back and try to find them.”
But rather than demean her for it, David’s expression only softened. “I did,” he agreed softly. “I did promise that we’d go back and look for Snow, Belle, Killian, Robin, and Regina. But if Gothel and Blackbeard are still around, they know where these explosives are and they could use these later to hurt the people we love. So we’re going to take care of this first.”
Gingerly, he put a hand on Emma’s shoulder. “Can you trust me, Emma? Just for a little while longer?”
Her eyes immediately went to the hand on her shoulder. Her first instinct was to shy away from the touch. But then Whale’s bracelet caught her attention again and she looked at it for a long while.
When she was ready, her gaze met David’s. “Okay,” she agreed. “Until we find them again.”
David beamed. “Good.” Standing up straight, he began to walk back toward the collection of explosives that Mulan had found.
Emma followed a little more slowly, keeping her distance just in case the explosives went off. “Do you have any idea how any of these work?” she asked cautiously, her eyes darting back and forth.
Mulan frowned and then took a deep breath. “Stay back,” she warned both David and Emma. “I’m going to pick one up and see what I can figure it out.”
“That seems like a bad idea,” David warned.
“Well, we don’t have a better one, not without Belle,” Mulan replied. “Didn’t you just give Emma a whole speech about how we can’t leave these unattended for Blackbeard and Gothel to find?”
David smiled wryly. “I did, didn’t I?”
Mulan leveled him with a stern look. “Neither of them is stupid, David. I bet you anything while they don’t know the exact mechanics, they know enough to make it work. I’ve never known Blackbeard to fight with a weapon he didn’t understand.”
“How do you know that?” Emma asked curiously.
“Cuz I killed a kid from his district that didn’t follow that advice,” Mulan shrugged. “Now step back, David.” She waited until both David and Emma were a noticeable distance away before she picked up one of the silver orbs, turning it over in her hand.
In a way, it almost reminded Emma of one of the Capitol sponsor gift tins, except sleeker and rounder. Emma waited with bated breath for literally anything to happen. The world seemed too quiet around her since the last cannon went off.
Another cannon hadn’t gone off since the one for James, and there was still no sign of who else was alive or dead.
Finally, Mulan let a derisive snort when nothing seemed to blow up in her face. “Oh, well that’s helpful,” she said dryly, loud enough for both David and Emma to hear. “Those bastards already had these things on a timer.”
“Maybe that’s why they split us up,” Emma replied, inching closer back to Mulan. “So that a bunch of us would head toward this and get here as the time ran out.” She still didn’t like that these were Belle’s inventions and that someone had deliberately brought these into the arena.
While there was a chance that whoever sent the explosives didn’t know Belle designed them—and it was possible given that she had once told Emma that Gold had stolen her designs for the force field—it didn’t feel very much like chance, not in the arena where odds counted.
“Well, we’re about 15 minutes ahead of schedule,” Mulan said flatly. “So, I figure we have about five minutes to figure out what to do and ten to get ourselves out of any blast radius.”
David frowned at them contemplatively. “What about Belle’s plan?” he asked. “About using them for a rebound at the force field edge?”
“What edge of the arena are we getting to in fifteen minutes?” Mulan asked. “The nearest edge is probably two miles out, maybe more.”
Emma frowned at the ground, closing her eyes to see if she could hear any of the humming nearby. With a gasp, she suddenly remembered that day in the training arena with Belle, when Belle had taught her that the space where it was quiet was the weakest point of the force field.
Where the helicarrier had to come in.
Mulan and David turned to her confusedly and she pointed at the tree. “What if we use that tree to launch the bombs upward at the top of the arena?” Emma asked eagerly.
“You’re out of your mind!” Mulan protested.
“No, that makes sense actually,” David responded, and Mulan gaped at him. “I mean, there has to be a reason the Career Pack put the explosives here. I bet you anything that this tree isn’t a real tree.”
“Well, technically none of these are real trees,” Mulan muttered.
“You know what I mean,” David said, rolling his eyes. “There’s got to be something about this tree. Something we’re not seeing.” Turning to Emma, he asked, “Are you any good at climbing?”
Emma snorted. “Pretty sure they’d kick me out of District 7 if I wasn’t good at climbing trees. Any District 7 kid can climb a tree before they learn how to walk.”
“Do you need help?” David asked, but Emma already brushed past him, hoisting herself into the tree that they were talking about.
“Nope!” Emma said cheerfully, cleanly finding her footing and moving upward with ease.
“Just see if you can find anything! Anything that can help us get the bombs up that high!”
“This seems suicidal,” Mulan muttered, her eyes flickering over to David worriedly.
Emma snorted under her breath, finding herself agreeing as she expertly maneuvered the spacing in between the branches. There were a few moments where she had to pause and consider where to place her foot next in order to get the best vantage point, but it wasn’t significantly harder than any other tree she had climbed.
She thought back to the tree in the first arena, and how the bark felt against her hands as she scrambled up.
Something about this tree felt off, though she wasn’t sure what exactly it was.
When she used one of the tree holes as a placement for her foot, Emma finally realized what it was. Her foot caused a ringing sensation to reverberate through the tree. “It’s made of metal,” she whispered, her eyes going wide.
“It’s made of metal!” she hollered down to Mulan and David. Quickly skittering back down the tree, she quickly began examining it, looking for anything that would get her to open it. “Mulan, how much time do we have?”
“Seven minutes,” Mulan replied, looking down.
“Okay, two more minutes and if I don’t find what I’m looking for, we’re out of here,” Emma agreed. She looked closely at all the roots, seeing a knot in the root that seemed abnormally large. When she pressed down it, the tree hissed as it began to open up.
Inside the tree was a large catapult mechanism, and Emma’s eyes widened as she watched the tree unfurl.
“Holy shit,” Mulan whispered, echoing Emma’s sentiments exactly.
Emma looked at the catapult again. It seemed simple enough o load and launch, and she wondered if that had been James and Arthur’s plan all along: separate them from their alliance and hurl bombs at the survivors. It could’ve been carried off by one person, provided that person happened to be particularly good at climbing.
Looking up, she figured with enough speed, the bombs could still hit the top of the forcefield. Emma glanced at Mulan and David. “Are we doing this?” she asked quietly.
“I don’t think we have a choice,” David said. Gently putting his hands on Emma’s shoulders, he added, “But you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. I’ll climb the tree, load the catapult. You’ve done enough for us this Games.”
“Yeah, but do you think you can climb and load that thing in five minutes?” Mulan asked, folding her arms over her chest. “Emma’s our best shot at getting his done. Of getting out here alive.”
Emma immediately set off to sling the back of explosives over her back. Mulan was right: they simply just didn’t have the luxury of time to figure this out and discuss it. Someone had to act and it had to be done now. “You two can get going, in case this doesn’t work,” she offered over her shoulder as she began to climb back up.
“Not a chance,” David called back.
Mulan hesitated for a moment, but then she looked up at Emma. “That’s what an alliance is for, right? Making sure we all have our best chance? Well, I think our best chance is making sure that you don’t do this alone.”
Despite the mistrust that had rung in the back of Emma’s mind for the last few hours, Emma couldn’t help but feel a surge of warmth and affection for Mulan and David now.
And then, an insidious voice whispered in her mind.
Do it. Drop the bombs. Then you’ve eliminated two of your competitors. They don’t care about you. They don’t care about Killian. So end it. You have the high ground. You have a weapon. You have Killian. So just end it.
There was a moment where she considered it. There was a moment where her hand delved into the bag and tightened around one of the explosives.
But when she looked down at David and Mulan, David gave her a friendly wave, still grinning up at her. Whale’s gold bracelet gleamed off his wrist, and she sighed, pressing her forehead against the tree.
Goddamn it, Whale.
Besides, the voice in her head sounded too much like Whale and not like anyone she trusted.
“You doing okay up there? Not getting dizzy or anything?” David called.
“Just needed a minute,” Emma replied, guilt creeping up in her stomach.
“Can you take your minute after we do this?” Mulan called tersely and Emma let out a huff of a laugh through her nose.
Scampering up the rest of the way toward the launching mechanism, Emma was more acutely aware of the time than she’d ever been. When she reached the place to load, Emma was less than surprised to discover that it was designed to fit the explosives, though it was fairly self-intuitive to load.
“Well, guess they had to make it easy for Arthur,” she muttered as she began to load them one by one.
The explosives began to flash a sickly red color, and Emma knew she didn’t have much time left. As she loaded the explosives into the area—only intuiting what it was given that it looked quite like a giant crossbow more than anything—she looked to see what else she could discern from it at a glance.
There were two levers, one horizontal and one vertical. Near the farthest lever were two sets of circular holes, roughly at eye level. And to the right of the eye holes was a button.
Emma nodded and quickly scrambled to the other side, using the circular holes to see and the levers to adjust accordingly. She couldn’t hesitate to think or even doubt, because time was clearly running out.
Pushing the button, Emma held her breath as the explosives launched upward, their momentum driving them without sign of slowing down.
The first few hit the top of the force field and Emma sighed in relief as the tiles began to crack and fall around the arena.
But debris came hurtling down quicker than she anticipated, and Emma didn’t know where to go that was safe. In her panic, she clung to the tree with her eyes shut as a deafening boom sounded.
Bits of the tree began whizzing down around her. Horrified, Emma realized that the debris from the force field had crashed into the tree she was standing in. The tree was now coming down around her and there was nowhere for her to go.
As the tree began to pitch to the side, Emma tried to find better footing so she could safely get off, but it was moving too fast, and the branches up at the top of the tree were now on fire.
Fuck…Killian, I’m sorry. Henry, I’m sorry, she thought, squeezing her eyes shut again as she braced herself.
The last thing she heard as she went hurtling toward the ground was David screaming her name at the top of his lungs.
Chapter 30
Notes:
HERE WE GO EVERYBODY, LAST CHAPTER.
While two years certainly isn't FOUR years (and thank god it's not), I'm so thrilled that so many of you commented and followed me through this very long journey. If you'd told me that this would be a series at over 200k words and I'd finished 2/3rds of it when I first started writing in the fall of 2016, I probably would've laughed. But here we are, just over 5 years from when I started writing the series, nearly 5 since I started posting (January of 2017), and about 2 years since I started posting this part (March of 2020) and we really are on the last chapter of Part 2.
Yes, there will be a part 3! When? Great question. I'd like to finish some of my other Captain Swan MCs before I begin moving my outline to chapters. And also, Critical Role has taken over my muse's attention and this series will have to compete. But I will aim to finish it because...well, honestly, it's exciting watching everyone react to your world-building and foreshadowing.
But seriously, thanks for joining me on this ride. I hope you're all enjoying it so far.
And now without further ado: the last chapter of Where Have All the Children Gone?
Chapter Text
Emma’s eyes weakly fluttered open and the breath she took hurt her chest. There was a mask over her face, which she weakly batted at.
“Easy, cherub,” Whale murmured, taking his hand in hers. “Easy…you’re a little banged up.”
“Did I win?” Emma rasped, looking up at her mentor. Her head hurt and the lights seemed too bright. “Is it over? Am I home now?” Whale’s hand tightened around hers and she squeezed back weakly.
“Not home quite yet. You’re lucky, but not that lucky,” he told her softly. “You gave us all quite the scare…you’re smart, but you’re reckless, kid,” He smiled down at her, but there was something in it that Emma couldn’t clock. “Just glad you’re okay, Emma. We’ll get you back to Henry soon enough.” He brushed a little bit of hair off her face and Emma gently headbutted his hand.
Moving her head allowed her to see a little bit more around her as she started to wake up a little more. As her eyes adjusted around the room, she saw that there were hovering stretchers all around her. Her face began to fall as she registered the people on the tables.
Mulan.
Belle.
David.
Robin.
That’s five of us.
Her eyes narrowed and Whale sighed. “Too damn smart for your own good sometimes, cherub.”
“Whale?” she growled lowly. “What’s going on?”
Whale looked away from her for a moment, running his hand distractedly through his hair. “It’s complicated.”
“Whale,” Emma snarled, sitting up a little bit. Her eyes individually tracked over the people on the table and her mentor in front of her. Whale buried his face in his hands, mentally bracing himself for the question they both knew was going to come next.
“Where is Killian?” she asked, her voice low and dangerous, slowly pulling the mask off of her face. Her lungs seemed to need a moment to adjust to the air around her and she let out a few violent coughs, but she was not putting the oxygen mask on back over her face.
“Emma—”
“Where is my husband, Whale?” Emma repeated, sitting up fully now. Every part of the action hurt, her body screaming with the effort but it was worth it to make eye contact with Whale. He flinched at the word, looking out of his hands, shaking his head at Emma.
“Oh, she’s awake,” a voice floated across the room. Emma narrowed her eyes at the newcomer, her hands shifting for something to protect her and Whale from this new person.
“Easy, cherub,” Whale murmured, putting his hand over hers and sitting in front of her protectively.
“Hello, Emma. Do you remember me? We met the night of your engagement party.” The woman’s warm smile and flowery dress sparked the faintest hint of a memory.
“Persephone,” she finally recalled, her voice flat as she struggled to control her temper. “How unexpected. As I recall your husband Hades was very close to Gold. He paid me a fun visit the night Gold announced the twist for the Quarter Quell, but I’m sure you have no idea what I’m talking about, right?”
The pain was warring with the frantic urge to just start looking for Killian herself, and her patience for games now that she was no longer in the arena was worn about as thin as it could be. Any thinner and she was sure she’d snap, which this woman unwittingly seemed more than too happy to test.
“Emma,” Whale hissed.
“You have a good memory—” Persephone started at the same time.
Emma crossed her arms, not having the patience for either of them. “So either, you’re about to bring five Hunger Games tributes to Gold on a silver platter, which I highly doubt given that you’d taken the time to take us out of the Games before it was over. Or, you’ve orchestrated something to get some of us and not all of us out.”
Persephone blinked for a moment before continuing calmly, “That’s very astute of you, Emma. Though the intention was to get everyone out from your alliance.”
“My alliance?” Emma asked, whipping her head around to look at Whale. “As I recall, I didn’t want or ask for an alliance. I just wanted it to be me and Killian. So if you’re trying to get everyone in my alliance, that means there’s only one other person you need to be worried about.” She turned her head slowly, drawing herself up to her fullest height so the woman knew that there were no uncertain terms. “So, I’ll ask again: where’s Killian? And I want an answer this time, goddamn it.”
Persephone sighed, sitting down beside Emma. “When you collapsed the dome…we had to act quickly. We had access to this helicarrier, and only had a limited time…” She looked over at Emma and reached for Emma’s hand. “We grabbed everyone we could before we ran out of time.”
Emma snatched her hand away from Persephone and Whale both, curling in on herself like a wounded animal about to strike. “Killian?” she rasped. “He’s dead…?”
“No. Gold has him.”
Her stomach sank. And while her shoulders unwound, there was a look to her eyes when she opened them again that could only be described as deadened. “Which is worse?” she asked hollowly.
She closed her eyes again, not wanting to see either of their reactions. “Is it only Killian then?” she asked, her voice deadened.
“No,” Whale said quietly, his voice catching. “He’s got Snow and Regina as well.”
“Bet David and Robin took it real well when you told them.” Emma hoped more than anything that the adults could hear the absolutely venom that was dripping from her voice. When no one responded, her eyes opened and she looked at her mentor coldly.
His expression told her all she needed to know.
“Oh, so you haven’t woken them up to tell them yet? Some friend you are, Whale. I’m sure they won’t completely hate you. After all, this is what you do. You plan, you keep people in the dark, and you swoop in to fix things so you can look like the hero. All the while, everyone’s lives and relationships just crumble down around you. But you get to be one step ahead of it all. Must be nice.”
She considered it a horrible victory when Whale flinched beside her. She didn’t care if it was true or not. She didn’t care if it was even how she felt or if she just knew which of Whale’s buttons to press. She’d now lost Killian to machinations that her mentor had kept her hidden from, after swearing he was doing everything in her power to keep them both safe.
“We’re going to get them back,” Persephone promised placatingly, looking more and more uncomfortable by the second.
“The same we that got him out?” Emma asked viciously. “The same we that put me in an alliance that I didn’t want? The same we that seemingly has been planning my every move since I got reaped again?”
“Emma, be reasonable—” Persephone tried.
“If you wanted reasonable, you would’ve saved Killian. Not me.”
“Emma, don’t be stupid,” Whale finally snapped back, his eyes flaring in a way she’d never seen from him. “You’d be in a hell of a lot worse shape if we’d saved Killian instead of you! Gold absolutely would’ve had your head on a platter and you know it!” He glared down at her and she jerked her chin up at him. “And not for nothing, cherub? Killian would’ve been damn near as wound up as you if not more. He’d have done anything to keep you safe.”
Emma let that stew for a moment, rage boiling in her gut before she realized that Whale was right. Killian would’ve done anything to keep her safe.
And she was going to do the same for him.
Emma flung the covers back and stood up on shaky legs. The minute she put weight on them, she let out an absolute howl of pain, her legs all but screaming from her knees to her hips. She clung to the IV stand, nearly biting Persephone’s hand when the woman nearly reached out to try and help.
“Emma, what are you doing?” Persephone asked.
“We’re going to get him. Now,” Emma growled.
“Get her some morphine, she’s gotta go back to sleep,” Whale sprung up and wrapped his arms around Emma tightly.
“Let go of me, Whale!” she roared, thrashing in his grip.
His grip only tightened. “I’m not letting you kill yourself, cherub. Sorry. Not today,” he grunted, sinking down to the floor with her.
“Let go! Let go of me! Get off of me!” she screamed, trying to wrench herself out of Whale’s arms to no avail. The medics began to swarm around her, one holding her shoulders down and another holding her IV steady.
A third medic was injecting something into her IV, but she could hardly see as she kept screaming and thrashing around just trying to get free.
As the morphine began to kick in, her screams began to fade off into little whimpers and her thrashes lessened to little tosses of her head. She saw someone try to reach for her but Whale bat their hand away.
“I’ve got her. Just wait ‘til she falls back asleep,” Whale ordered as if daring them to come close and see what would happen.
“Whale,” she whimpered plaintively, trying to articulate how betrayed she felt and how terrified she was for Killian. “Whale, you promised…I trusted you to keep us safe, Whale. Me and Killian both.”
“I know,” he whispered, burying his face against her hair. “I know…and I’m so fucking sorry.”
The last thing she felt before her eyes fluttered shut again was the press of Whale’s lips against her temple.
--
When she woke up again, her mouth was so dry that it felt like her tongue was stuck to the inside of her mouth. She closed her eyes for a moment, wiggling her toes. The action caused a shooting pain up her leg and her eyes flew open with a hiss. “Goddamn it!”
“Better not let Henry hear you say those words. He’ll either make you put a coin in a jar or start repeating them himself and then where we would we be.”
Emma’s heart nearly tumbled out of her chest to hear Neal’s voice beside her. She looked over at him, tears filling her eyes when she realized he was in fact real. “Neal,” she rasped happily.
“Hey, Emma. Good to see you,” Neal laughed wetly, brushing some hair from her face. “Do you want some water? Whale said you’d have a hell of a dry mouth when you woke up.” He paused for a moment before he added, unsure how the information would be received. “He’s been worried about you.”
She nodded and he turned around to get some water from the pitcher. That way, Neal couldn’t see just how awful she felt as she recalled all the things she said to Whale before she’d been sedated.
“Where is Whale?” she whispered; her voice was unable to go any higher than that for now. “Owe him an apology.” She closed her eyes and slung her arm over her face, grimacing as more of the things she said to him when she’d last woken up as her alertness returned to her bit by bit.
“He was here a little awhile ago, I’m sure he’ll be back soon,” Neal said soothingly. She heard the sound of the cup of water at the table beside her and she moved her arm from her face. “You can apologize then. I don’t think he’s all that mad at you though.”
“Should be. Said the worst things to him,” Emma replied, looking up at Neal.
“And yet, all he said was he got a black eye cuz he underestimated you.”
“I gave him a black eye?” Emma groaned.
“The only time he’s ever left your side since he brought you here is when they’ve called him in for meetings and stuff or that David guy made him go eat. Actually, they should be back in like an hour.”
“And…Killian?” Emma couldn’t help but ask hopefully. “Did they get him back yet?”
“I don’t know all the details, but I think that’s the meeting they went to. At least, I hope it is, anyway. In the meantime, let’s get you all settled. Do you need help sitting up?”
Neal’s tone was too cheerful. The room didn’t match any room she recognized, not even a hospital room in 7. There was a quiet, mechanical whirring that sounded and the lights in the room were far too bright.
“I might need help,” she said, watching Neal’s reaction to see if that could get her any information.
Despite the pain, Emma quickly cataloged that she could move and feel her legs, her back, her arms, her neck. Nodding, she let Neal gently help her sit up, her eyes squeezing shut at the touch to the small of her back. “That hurts,” she muttered, shaking her head as if that could clear the pain of the body.
“Yeah, they said the burns might hurt for a while, but the good news is that you look less like a winter quilt than you did when they first brought you here,” Neal joked, holding the cup of water out in front of her.
Though Emma’s hands shook, she was grateful that she could hold the cup steadily and drink from it. “How long have I been out?”
“Couple days. Everything’s been in an uproar since the end of the Games. Shoulda known you would turn the whole world upside down, Ems.”
“Yeah, well…I didn’t do it all by myself. I had a lot of help without even knowing it.”
“Yeah, setting the entire world on fire doesn’t seem like your style,” Neal replied, grinning down at her goodnaturedly.
Whatever it was that had Neal acting so strangely, it wasn’t her.
Still, she let the normal conversation go on, letting the world come back to her slowly but surely.
All of a sudden, the door burst open and Emma flinched, her hand tightening around the glass, prepared to use it as a weapon. “I heard she was awake!” her mentor called anxiously.
Affectionate tears nearly filled her eyes as Whale barreled into the room and hugged her tightly. Emma wrapped her arms around him, burying her face against his chest.
“Hey, cherub,” he rasped wetly, pulling back to look at her. “Feeling a little less homicidal today?” He smiled at her fondly enough, but she could see the tightness at the edge of his smile, the way he seemed to hold himself at a distance when he pulled back. The ring around his eye was puffy and dark and guilt swam in her stomach.
Her smile faded as she took him in. The rest of him looked pale and gaunt, almost like it had before the Games had started up again when they’d seen each other after nearly a year apart. Only this time, it had been a few days at the most.
“Whale, I’m sorry—” Emma started.
“No, cherub.” He cupped her cheek gently. “Don’t be sorry.” He smiled down at her. “For better or worse you remind me of me…and I don’t know that I would’ve reacted any differently. I’ll be honest…I’m just glad you don’t hate me forever.”
“Pretty sure you should hate me,” she muttered, hanging your head.
“What? Cuz you said something that based on everything you’d been through was true? Cuz you gave me a black eye when you headbutted me?” Whale sat down beside her, very gingerly nudging her with his shoulder. “I’m made of stronger stuff than that. Besides, you think that Capitol woman was going to take your ‘I just got out of the arena and I lost the person I love’ rage in stride? Please. Only Capitol woman I know who could withstand all that is Tink.”
Emma smiled up at her mentor, silently wanting to believe that his forgiveness was real and genuine. He looked down at her, and while it was genuine, she could already tell that there was a weight behind his eyes that she didn’t like. Still, she was just happy that she had one of her friends back and she rest her head on his shoulder.
“Boy, you sure are in a chipper mood since they gave you the good stuff,” David replied from the edge of the room. Emma looked up and made eye contact with David. “Hey, Emma.”
“Hey,” she replied. “’m sorry about Snow.”
“Don’t be. She’s…she’s tough. She’ll be okay,” David replied, though Emma couldn’t tell if he was trying to reassure him or her. “Besides, we’re gonna get her back. Killian and Regina too.”
Emma nodded, closing her eyes again. “Are we almost home?” she asked softly and childishly.
She didn’t see anyone’s reactions but she could feel the change of the reaction in the room. “What?” she asked worriedly, her heart starting to beat quickly against her chest. Her eyes fluttered open and she sat up straight again. She looked at her mentor, whose eyes were closed with a pained grimace, and she suddenly remembered the story Tink had told her about Whale’s brother.
“What’s wrong with going home? Is it Henry?” she asked him.
“No, no, Henry’s fine,” Neal promised, kneeling in front of her and giving her hand a squeeze. “We just haven’t brought him in to see you yet cuz you’re a little banged up and we didn’t wanna scare him.”
“But he’s okay? Gold didn’t get him too?” She blurted out what had been her biggest fear. Whale’s eyes flew open with shock and looked at her. “Tink told me…”
“That woman…” Whale said faintly, a quick smile twitching at his lips before fading again.
“Something’s happened though, hasn’t it?” Emma asked, looking between Whale and Neal. “Please…I’m just so tired of this, can’t one of you tell me?” The two men looked helplessly between each other, and Emma couldn’t help but ask shrilly, “And you promise Henry is okay?”
“I promise Henry is fine,” Neal said resolutely, squeezing her hand. “Don’t worry. I got him out in time.”
“Out of time for what?” Emma asked suspiciously. “When are we going home?”
Neal sighed, standing up so he could look Emma directly in the eye. “A few hours after you won…a huge forest fire broke out. But it wasn’t like one of your average fires…it was a whole circle.” His eyes became misty as he continued, “There was a gap that allowed me to get some people out, and some people figured it out before I did, but uh…we can’t go back to 7 right now.”
“So, we just have to wait for the fire to go out?” Emma asked, trying desperately not to believe what she knew Neal was telling her. “And then we can go home?”
Neal pressed his lips together. “I don’t think we’re ever gonna be able to go home again, Ems.”
She took in two deep breaths to quell the tide of emotion that welled up within her. She looked to Whale and David. “So where are we going?”
“Well, if it makes you feel better, we’ve already been there for a few days,” David started.
“Miss Swan.” An older woman stood at the entrance to her room. She wore an elegant grey dress, and her dark brown hair was piled on her head so that only a few delicate curls framed her face. “I’m sorry to disturb you. I know you’ve only just woken up and I’m very sorry to disturb you. You must be anxious to see your brother soon and see where you’ll be staying while you’re here.”
“I am,” Emma said nervously, noticing how David and Whale immediately straightened up when the woman arrived. She began picking at her nails nervously as she took in the woman in front of her. “I’m sorry…I just…it’s been a long, few days…who are you, exactly?”
“Oh, dear, don’t worry, we haven’t met before.” The woman laughed, but it certainly wasn’t warm in any sense of the word. The saccharine smile crossed her face as she introduced herself.
“My name is President Cora Mills. And I wanted to welcome you to District 13.”