Under tower and balcony,
By garden wall and gallery,
A pale, pale corpse she floated by,
Deadcold, between the houses high,
Dead into tower'd Camelot.
Knight and burgher, lord and dame,
To the planked wharfage came:
Below the stern they read her name,
The Lady of Shalott.
Tennyson - "The Lady of Shalott" - Part 5
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PART 3
Kissing death away
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She loosed the chain and down she lay, her snowy white dress shining on the red and colored by the warm light of the sunset. The broad river was carrying her far away, and she felt all her sorrow leave her body and mingle to the calm water. Soon, clusters popped into the purple vault above her head. A smile broke across Emma's face: it was the first time in ten years that she gazed up at the night sky. The night was her ceiling, the boat her coffin, the tapestry her shroud. And yet, she felt relieved. Happiness was not to be felt by the Lady of Shalott, for the thought of leaving the world she had just found again sent pain through her veins and the idea of never seeing Killian again made her heart ache more than words could possibly say. She wished he would not be the one to find her body in the morning. She would never find peace if he did. She wanted him to remember her as the lively little girl of yore, the little princess he had vowed to marry, not the pale corpse lying on a crimson web.
A single tear rolled down her temple and melted on the fabric beneath her head, where her golden curls lay limp. She deeply inhaled the scent of night, but breathing was becoming hard. She felt the blood freeze slowly in her veins, and a sly cold wrapped her being, from her toes to her lashes. She took in a breath and opened her mouth, willing to sing death away for a little longer, a last melody before saying goodbye.
Till all the seas gang dry, my dear, And fare thee well, my only love,
And the rocks melt with the sun
And I will love thee still, my dear,
While the sands o' life shall run.
And fare thee well a while!
And I will come again, my love,
Thou' t'were ten thousand mile.
The last lines were barely a whisper, muffled by the sound of the tide splashing against the prow. Around her watery coffin, the willowy hills were enshrouded by ribbons of pale silver light. She stared at the stars above her, like a million eyes watching over her. She silently wished to become one of them to watch over Killian. And with this last thought, with this last line sung in the cold air of the night, death came embracing the princess with her wings. Singing in her song she died, Emma of Shalott.
Her body bore by the broad stream made its way through the houses of the banks. She had reached towered Camelot, where the knight and burgher, lord and dame danced and sang. Her silence broke into the rousing music of the city, and her dead-pale shape caused the musicians to stop. They all came look at the beautiful lady lying on the precious tapestry, carried by the river. And round the prow, they read her name : Emma of Shalott.
"Who is this?" one asked.
"'Tis the fairy of Shalott!" another answered.
"'Tis no fairy," a child intervened, "'tis the long gone princess of Camelot!"
The whispers grew louder. Was this Princess Emma, she who had been taken by the Evil Queen a decade ago? The sound of royal cheer died in the palace, and all the knights and royals crossed the crowd to see the pale lady.
The Queen almost fell to the ground, her legs were too weak to carry her. She muffled a cry with her hand and her husband wrapped his arms around her, staring at the lady in awe. It was their daughter for sure, they would recognize this fair hair and this face in a million faces. For ten years they had all been looking for her. They had crossed seas and forests, mountains and valleys. And all this time, she had been in Shalott, the sole island they could not search. For the Evil Queen was cunning: she had cast a spell on the legendary island. All the royals of Camelot were unable to see Shalott. Killian had often wandered there, "feeling a presence" as he would tell them...
"Emma..."
The cracked voice behind the royal couple shattered their hearts even more. The young black-haired man was standing in utter terror beside them, his blue irises turning to ice as his eyes were set upon the princess' lifeless body. His feet carried him to the boat and he clutched the side, bringing it to him. He tied it to the jetty and knelt by her face, her too pale face and her too pale lips. He had been looking for her for ten years, never giving up hope, always feeling her eyes upon him as he rode by the river. And now her she lay, dead. So close. And yet, galaxies away.
His eyes roamed her face, pretty as always. She had grown a beautiful swan, and there was nothing he wanted to see more than her sea green irises. "Open your eyes love," he let out, his voice strangled by tears. "Open your eyes."
His hand cupped her cheek and brushed her silky hair. All the words he had planned to say to her, all his promises of eternal love had died along with Emma. He had died with her, and though he was kneeling by her side, he felt like he was lying dead with her. This was not the fate he had wanted. This was not the fate he had chosen. He had loved her forever, and ever since he had drawn the anchor and the swan by the lake, he had known they were meant to be, and that this affection he felt was to grow into something more. And now he loved her, yes, he loved her more than his own life, and she had died without knowing it.
"She knew," the Queen said out loud, as if she had read his mind. "I am sure Emma knew you loved her."
The young knight looked down, the unbearable pain stifling him and squeezing his lungs. He peered at her face again, and this time, a sad smile curled his lips. He tilted his head to the side: "God in his mercy lend her grace." Even in death, she was his gentle swan. And until his last breath, he had vowed to be his anchor. His eyes locked on her fleshy lips and his face came closer to hers. "I love you," he murmured against her mouth, and he sealed the words of his heart with a kiss.
Suddenly, a huge impulse of energy shot from their sealed lips, like an aurora waving and turning in the air. The crowd cried in surprise and Killian backed down. Two green and fluttering eyes twinkled beneath him, and his heart stopped. "Emma?" he asked, sure he had somehow died kissing her and joined her in her lethal sleep.
The princess frowned and sat up with difficulty, her eyes not unlocking from his. Shyly, she extended her hand towards his face and cupped his cheek. Her fingers were warm. Killian closed his eyes and covered her hand with his, shaking with tears and laughter. When he opened them again, he grabbed her face and crushed his lips on hers, breathing life into her. She returned the kiss with passion, drawing into his warmth, getting lost into his touch. Her fingers caressed his temples, ran in his hair as her lips danced with his. They stopped and he rested his forehead against hers. Breathless and yet so full of life, she said : "I will."
Killian's eyes narrowed in confusion. "You will what love?"
Emma smiled and laughed lightly. "I will marry you, silly."
He helped her stand up and leave the boat and laughter keep escaping his mouth, like a melody of happiness. They stared at each other for minutes, enveloped by silence and warmth, and eventually, he wrapped his arms around her and nestled his head in the crook of her neck. Like an anchor and a swan embraced they stood, and a child in the crowd smiled. After all, the legend was true.
He who would catch a glimpse of the Lady of Shalott would embrace a timeless happiness.
A/N : I could NOT let Emma die, I just couldn't. I had considered it because the actual Lady of Shalott does die, but no, she had to find Killian and kiss him.
The song quoted in this part is "My Love Is Like a Red, Red Rose" or "Red, Red Rose". The lyrics were just really fitting. It was written by Robert Burns (1759-1796), the scottish poet.
Thanks a lot for you support, I hope you liked this little AU. Feel free to leave a review, I love reading them :)