Three things are known to be true.
The Dark One lies, the Dark One tricks.
And before there is a Dark One, there is the Dark One's Curse.
Ah, the Dark One's Curse.
It cajoles and entices, seducing the weak and belittling the strong.
It seeks out the light, the joy, the hope, the purity of true love. It crawls into the blackest corners of a creature's heart and mind and soul, snuffing out all that is good and true, sullying and tainting as it sinks its pointed fangs into blood and bone and thought.
The Dark One's curse has survived many centuries, a living entity in its own right, powered by hate and revenge and bitterness. It has consumed many a soul, many a stalwart creature, been embraced by those seeking to corrupt, wanting power beyond measure.
The Dark One's curse flows from one unfortunate soul to the next, gathering strength as it leeches and devours, bringing with it the collective malignant will of all who have come before. It is always the same, unchanging.
Until now.
Now, the Dark One's curse is cleaved in two, shared between two souls, two hearts, split between two creatures bound by more than magic.
Two creatures bound by love.
(but love is weak, this the Darkness knows.)
The Darkness has seen love stumble and fail for centuries, crumbling into dust, cracking into oblivion under the weight of greed and deceit, the lust for power proving so much stronger than the lust for the flesh.
And the pirate, the newly reborn immortal, is filled with the most delicious of doubt, the most ferocious of righteous anger. Yes, love is weakness, and the Darkness cackles with whispered glee, knowing it will not be long before they both buckle and fail and are consumed.
The Dark Swan has been strong, stronger than any other soul the Darkness has swallowed whole, but tonight she is filled with untruths and fear along with her hope and love, hiding her lies beneath a veil of desperation.
"I'm right here." She grasps with pale hands, begging to be seen. "Look at me." The pirate's heart is blackened by anger and vengeance, but it seems the Dark Swan's sway is stronger, and he is quick to do her bidding. "That future you told me not to be afraid of? We can have it." Her voice is as broken as her promise to let him pass in peace. "The house in Storybrooke. I'm not afraid anymore. I want it. With you. It's ours." She lays her hands upon his face, skin to skin, and the Darkness recedes, pushed aside. "You just have to want it too."
"Aye, love, I do." The pirate's heart fills with something stronger than bloodlust, and the Darkness blurs and shivers, pinpoints of light marring its shadowy beauty, loosening its grip. "More than anything."
(and the Darkness seethes, circling and swirling, clawing for purchase, waiting. Because love is weak, and cracks of human frailty will always appear.)
They speak of human nonsense, of hope and family, clinging together in the dim shadows of the trees. The Dark Swan warns the pirate to use no magic, and he foolishly agrees, believing his soul is still tethered to hers.
They embrace, their bodies pressing close, lingering, and soon comfort turns to hunger, flesh calling to flesh, mouths and hands seeking and challenging, tasting and seducing. Lust thrums through their blood, dark tendrils tainting what was once noble and unselfish.
(craving and panting, flesh hardened and aching, burning with the blind hunger to consummate what has been denied them for so long)
The Dark Swanis strong enough to resist, pulling away, putting him apart from her.
She will always be the strong one.
The Darkness now knows the path to victory.
"All right, enough distractions." Breathless laughter as her teeth flash white against blood red lips, red as the blood that once stained her true love's throat. "I am going to go scout our path."
The pirate still hungers, dark impulses tearing at his insides, the need to take and be taken humming beneath his pale skin. Nevertheless, he yields to the Dark Swan once more, a willing slave to her commands. "I'll go replenish our water supply."
Two creatures bound by love, determined to cling to the light.
This cannot stand. A Dark One cannot serve two masters.
(the darkness lies, the darkness tricks.)
Left alone with naught but his demons, the pirate grows pale, panicked gaze staring wide as the whispering of the dagger presses through the fog of humanity clouding his mind's eye. "What the devil is that noise?"
Taking the imp's form once more, the Darkness smiles. "That's the sound of the dagger singing to the sword. And if you can hear it, that means Excalibur is quite close."
A shake of the head, still clinging to the sad little notion his beloved has been true to their pledge. "No, it's impossible. Emma said it disappeared."
Such blind devotion. So utterly misplaced.
"Wake up, dearie. Your lover's lying," the Darkness whispers through the imp's lips, and knows the battle is won, the pirate's tenuous hold on his soul cracking wide open in the face of True Love's treachery. "She has the sword."
Betrayal is such a human trait, the Darkness muses in delight as the pirate's eyes fill with despairing fury, but it tastes as sweet as the nectar of the Gods themselves.
Oh, yes, the Dark One lies.
The Dark One lies, the Dark One tricks, and mortal love will always stumble and fall.
These things are known to be true, after all.