Thank you to everyone who went on this ride with me (your feedback and love gave me a huge boost in the completion of this little endeavour) and to everyone who might decide to do so now that it is complete (I know wips are scary af). Hope you like this! ;)


The ceremony is beautiful and far enough from modest to satisfy the groom and the bride's family but not so far as to aggravate the bride herself. All of Storybrooke is abuzz with news and gossip, genuine happiness and only mild surprise for weeks before and after the wedding. The bride's dress is brought all the way from Arendelle. The flowers are only in bloom in that particular month. The cakes – oh, Mrs Lucas will talk anyone's ear off about the cakes for months to come.

Mrs Chillton looks 15 years younger. Mr and Mrs Nolan have been all too eager to lend their superior knowledge and experience. Miss Anna has barely slept for more than 6 hours out of sheer excitement.

And Mrs Elsa Jones would've scolded her but she is much too happy and much too busy dissuading her husband from any grandiose and imprudent honeymoon ideas.

Miss Swan and Captain Jones are involved both in the ceremony and in assisting with said imprudent ideas but not quite so busy as not to be able to throw many knowing looks and smug smiles at the bride and groom.

And that would probably be a high note on which to leave our characters to their celebrations. But as it is we have one more story to tell. The story of Miss Emma Swan and her hand much desired in marriage as it turned out.

5 weeks before Captain Liam Jones and Miss Elsa Froster's wedding

"The audacity!"

She drops the letter on his desk and plunges in the chair across from it with all the grace that Killian has come to expect from Miss Emma Swan in the last week of cohabitation with her.

"Am I to take it that you have taken the liberty of going through my correspondence or that you are requesting that I read yours?"

"You don't have a correspondence."

"I assure you Commander Nemo and I are very particular about our annual Christmas cards."

"How personal. Please do look at this so you can share my outrage."

Jones picks up the discarded letter, then makes to rise to get his glasses, only to find Emma already thrusting them in his face. Exasperation and fondness – it would make a good title for a memoir about life around Emma Swan.

He takes the glasses and ignores her satisfied little grin as he quickly glides over the lines on the single page. It is not a long letter and it is not a particularly good one, especially if it is supposed to be what it appears to be.

And Captain Jones cannot help but feel a spike of irritation – dare he call it jealousy – at the possessive manner in which another man sees fit to address the woman across from him. For a moment, he wonders if inciting his jealousy is, at least in part, the very purpose of him being shown the letter.

But he finds that the part of him that was conceited enough to believe so once upon a time has grown rather old and wary of making such assumptions. So he makes a point of keeping his expression neutral and his voice even when he finally looks back at Miss Swan.

"It is a proposal, if I am not much too rusty to recognize one."

The way she rolls her eyes around all the time is definitely not befitting of a lady but it tugs at the corners of his mouth all the same.

"Not the most passionate or well-worded one I can imagine," he cannot help but add.

"Passionate – as if it can be passionate!" and like that Miss Swan is back on her feet. "I have seen this man all of four times in my life!"

"You must admit people marry on much less."

"Three times then?"

He does not laugh but it is a near thing and that is just the magic of Emma he has come to realize and grown rather comfortable with that realization.

"That, substantial fortunes and the appropriate positions in society on both sides."

"Oh. Oh, now that you mentioned it… why, I must accept, mustn't I? What shall I ever do, if I do not take my 'appropriate positions in society'? How shall I live?"

Killian does his best to remain unmoved and unamused in the face of her fluttering eyelashes.

"Took it a bit too far at the end there."

Emma huffs in exasperation and sits back down, snatching the letter from his loose fingers.

"I swear I am never to understand the way men think."

"Usually it is along the lines of 'beautiful woman and a sizable income equals marriage'. Not the most sophisticated logic I admit but…"

"Was she rich?"

He looks at her in confusion.

"Your wife."

"Ah," Captain Jones strokes a hand down his beard – slightly longer than usual – something should be done about it, perhaps tomorrow, before their walk. "Her family was. But her family did not approve of me very much. At the start. Or at the end, come to think of it."

"But she was in love."

"I would like to think so."

"Of course she was."

He realizes he has dropped his eyes to where his shirtsleeve hangs around his wrist. Brace and all has proven too much of a hassle for one with a bullet hole inside him. And Emma has been much too insistent on him not leaving the grounds and not needing his whole 'armour' on when in his own home.

His stomach is churning painfully for some unidentifiable reason.

But then he looks up and she is all soft, golden curls falling from her braids and ever softer eyes and the kind of smile that he hadn't really seen on Emma's face before he came to consciousness to find it hovering over him a week ago.

His insides settle and he tries to shake his head at her but his face has certainly betrayed him twice over by now. Especially given her next words.

"I think you should help me pen my rejection, Captain. Might lend it some diplomacy."

4 weeks before Captain Liam Jones and Miss Elsa Froster's wedding

This time is infinitely harder. This time she has known him for years – years ago but she remembers the fondness she had for him in her early teenage years all too well. This time he is in front of her and he is earnest and hopeful and a little nervous. This time she looks inside and tries to move away the brashness and exasperation and find her own diplomacy and understanding tucked somewhere for safekeeping. This time when she says no – because there is simply nothing else she can say, no hope she can possibly give – she can see the way his face falls, the way his eyes dim and flit away from hers, his hands dropping the one he had so ardently asked her for.

"I see. And if I were to ask again in a month or even a year-"

"Mr Humbert."

"No. I understand… But if time is what you need-"

"It is not a question of time. I… well, given the time, I hope… That is I am to… I don't think you will be able to ask in a year. I hope."

Emma squeezes her eyes shut and tries not to curse under her breath the way a lady should not even curse in her head. If people could stop asking her to marry them, it would be of great help. She has some things of her own to think over and execute and ask and hopefully achieve the desired results.

"Oh. I… I was led to believe that you rejected Mr Cassidy. I deeply apologize, if-"

"I did reject Mr Cassidy," she says it in the mocking tone that she only allows herself in front of Elsa or Killian – much to their consternation. "His offer was preposterous and his assumption that it will be received favourably doubly so."

"But then perhaps after some time to consider the merits of marriage-"

"Graham, I do wish to be married! Just not..."

"To me."

She tries not to flinch.

"It's not that. It's not… it's just… someone else."

The gentleman's brows draw together and for a fleeting moment his lips twitch and Emma knows with perfect certainty that he thinks she is playing a joke on him.

Neal Cassidy is one thing. Neal Cassidy might have money aplenty and his father might be a magistrate but he also has a reputation of caring little for what people say and, what truly matters to Emma, how people feel – even people supposedly close and dear to him.

But Mr Humbert is a man of indisputable character, fine manners, fine fortune and an even finer looks. He is young, pleasant and by all expectations should not want to settle to family life so early on. He is, to put it simply, the most coveted bachelor in Storybrooke, perhaps in the whole county.

And Emma is the ridiculous girl who has apparently seen fit to reject him. For someone else.

"Stranger things have happened."

"You should tell Mary Margaret that."

Instinctively Emma turns her head to the side, to try and catch a glimpse of their gracious host in the beautiful gazebo but her and Captain Jones seem to have walked much too far into the Nolan's luscious gardens and her vision is obscured by far too many roses red as blood.

She is just about to scold the gentleman beside her – who is not supposed to be walking around at all, her hand tightening around his forearm and her eyes narrowing on his profile when-

"She was quite adamant that I tell her right away, if it is a promise to me that is holding you back from Mr Humbert."

"Wha-"

"Not to worry, I told her that she should know I have more sense than that."

Once, when Emma was about 6 years old and skating over their favourite lake with Elsa, she heard the ice crack under her and in the next second she was in the water.

It felt a lot like this.

She pulls her arm away from Killian and steps to the side, there's noise in her ears and her body feels like it did all those years ago – like she is not giving it enough air. Jones keeps going for another meter or two before he stops and looks back at her in confusion.

"Swan?"

It would probably be better, if her first – or second or at least third – thought was that it was all fine, she could just turn around, go back to the garden party, take Mr Humbert to the side and accept his incredibly enticing proposal.

But Emma doesn't think of that. She doesn't think about much of anything other than the fact that she is a complete and utter fool. And, frustratingly enough, that Jones should really get off his feet already. So she focuses on that.

"We should head back. Liam is going to have my head for letting you go this far out."

"Wait, wait, what-"

"I think we should rejoin the party, Captain Jones."

She watches him draw back as if she is the one that slapped him in the face.

"Emma, what-"

And she can't help it. How dare he look at her like that. How dare he.

"And you, being the man of sense that you are, surely must be tired of the company of a silly girl and all her silly problems."

He opens his mouth to respond but, much to her relief, quickly snaps it shut. Much to her distress, however, he decides to move closer instead, his hand reaching out for her.

"Emma, surely you don't think- I did not mean-"

"That you were gravely offended at the mere suggestion that you might have expressed an interest in being engaged to me?"

"Of course not!"

Emma takes a step back and watches his hand fall along with his features. She crosses her arms over her chest protectively.

"Then what, pray tell, did you find so offensive to your sensibilities in Mrs Nolan's remark?"

She says it in a deliberately haughty tone and is almost glad when she sees it achieve the desired effect – the Captain's eyes blazing and his nostrils flaring as his hand curls into a fist at his side.

"I meant rather the opposite to what the lady has decided to conjecture. I meant that I have more sense than to believe that you would settle so far below your stature, were I to ask such a question."

And Emma can't quite help herself, can't refrain from throwing her arms in the air and almost growling at the damnable man in front of her.

Oh, he was the complete and utter fool.

"We've been through this! I already told you that I would very much have you, you insufferable-"

She presses her lips together hard and tries to regain some measure of control over herself. It's hard when he responds with utter confusion and a painfully pinched brow.

"That was not… That is to say, it was clear that, given the dire circumstances-"

"Yes, because dire circumstances are known to make women partial to matrimony."

"Are they not?"

"No, Killian, no. Love makes women partial to matrimony."

"Oh."

Emma lets her arms unfold and finally does away with the space between them. Her hands settling on his shoulders and sliding down to hold his hands – real and wooden.

"And I don't mean to sound impatient but given recent events-" she cuts off and hurries to add. "I don't mean to sound conceited either but-"

"Miss Swan, are you… propositioning me?"

She tries to keep her expression serious, she truly does, but Killian's eyes are twinkling and his eyebrow is going up and so are the corners of his mouth and after all she is propositioning him and she does not seem to be in the least bit embarrassed about it.

"Well, yes, as a matter of fact, I am. Would you- Do I have to ask Liam first?"

"Swan-"

"Would you marry me, Killian?"

She is rather proud of how steady her voice comes out, how she looks him in the eyes – his very wide, very blue eyes. He seems rather proud as well.

"Only you, Emma Swan, would receive multiple offers of marriage in the span of a single week and proceed to make one of your own."

"I was hoping mine would be a smidge more successful."

Captain Jones sways closer, now completely in her personal space, her breasts almost brushing the buttons of his vest.

"If I were still a betting man, I'd say it would be an astounding success."

3 months after Captain Liam Jones and Miss Elsa Froster's wedding

Perhaps the younger Captain Jones should've indeed put money on that bet, he does turn out to be absolutely right.

The ceremony is as unconventional as the mysterious proposal that everyone seems to have a different opinion for – held on a windy beach on an only partially sunny afternoon, it satisfies the sensibilities of no one but the bride and groom. Hardly anyone but the groom's brother and his wife know of the whole thing before it is already happening. The bride's dress is picked by the bride alone at a time equally unknown. Flowers are needed only for her bouquet and picked single-handedly by the groom the day before. There is no cake. There is some rum. Mostly to warm up anyone who finds the sea spray and breeze hard to bare.

Mrs Chillton is somewhat put out by the short notice and the inability to invite any of her friends and acquaintances but much placated by the sheer joy on the bride's face as she waves her into the carriage. Mr and Mrs Nolan are equally baffled but much easier to be prevailed upon – given Mr Nolan's predisposition to cheerfulness and Mrs Nolan's penchant for romantic and spontaneous gestures but mostly thanks to the groom's very persuasive and excited manner, rumoured to have been unseen in years. Miss Anna is taken with the whole idea and beyond delighted to be whisked away to the mysterious ceremony close to sunset.

Miss Emma Swan and Captain Killian Jones are said to have never been in higher spirits and that by the older Captain and Mrs Jones, said to know them best of all.

In the first year of their marriage it is believed that they are rather an unlikely pair and thus unlikely to be much too happy together.

By year two, they are believed to be rather inconsiderate and verging on scandalous with the amount of times that Mrs Jones sees fit to display her affection for her husband in rather public places and gatherings and with the amount of invitations for more such gatherings that Captain Jones feels justified in refusing in order to take his wife to the seaside or to "reorder their library" as he dares put it to some of their closer friends.

By year three Mrs Emma Jones and her husband have surprisingly little time to shower their twin nephews with gifts and affection – a practice much encouraged by the older Captain Jones and for reasons completely unimaginable to the other three labelled as "spoiling" by Mrs Elsa Jones – and this mostly due to the fact that they have provided the other Joneses with a niece of their own to "spoil".

To this day Mrs Emma Jones is rumoured to have actually put a curse of sorts on a lady who insinuated that she had been extremely foolish to accept Captain Jones when she had much more becoming offers made to her. The legend of exactly how many gentlemen she had refused while waiting for the Captain to propose has taken on a life of its own – from some stating that no such offers had been made at all to other whispering of numbers in the dozens – all this resulting in much undignified eyerolling from the lady in question and quite a bit of amusement and preening from her husband.

To this day Captain Killian Jones is rumoured to propose to his wife anew every year to "reaffirm her willingness" and pledge his own, much to the sighs and flutterings of the young ladies of Storybrooke and the groans and muttering of gentlemen who are being more and more often asked by their wives why they have been proposed to only once.

But Emma, when among their friends and family, takes extraordinary pride and delight in stating that Jones can propose as often as he wishes – she'd accept every time, but he should never forget who did it first.

Captain Jones doesn't seem to mind his wife's boasting one bit.