Many a time had Lieutenant Killian Jones heard the stories of a ferryman that took the souls lost at sea to the afterlife. He'd never given it much thought before, always preferring to not dwell on such poppycock tales. He had a distaste for such stories, as they were almost never true. He never thought that he would pray to such a ferryman that his brother, his Liam, might make it safely onward. He never thought that he would hold on to such a hope, as silly as it seemed.
The new leather felt heavy on his shoulders as he sipped from the bottle of rum at the desk in the Captain's quarters. It didn't feel right to call the small room his own. He didn't sleep in the bed anyway. But he didn't sleep at all, really. His mind drifted towards the books on the shelves, the maps and notes on the desk, and Liam's neat handwriting in his journal. It was something Killian couldn't bare to touch, but as the moon rose in the sky, he felt his curiosity rise up like a cobra, or perhaps it was the rum he simply could not develop a taste for. Either way, it was not long before he reached gently for the small, leather-bound book and opened it as if the pages themselves might disintegrate into dust if he wasn't careful.
Captain's Log
Journey to Port Angelou
Day 18
I regret to report that the Jewel of The Realm has had no luck with the storms. The crew is tired, and we are still two days from port. They are storms the likes of which I've only read about. We've lost three sailors since I reported last: Quartermaster Jiggins, Private Pollux, and Private Quint. All have drowned in the sea. The crew has taken to tying themselves to cannons or the mast while on watch, for fear of the squabbles reappearing. The very nature of these storms is to surprise and then reap the vessel. They only last little more than an hour, and come in what seems to be random intervals with no sign of warning.
However, I did not wish to report about the storms. They are not what worries me. After the poor sailors have drowned, immediately the storm calms, and the waters still. I've ordered the crew off the deck at this point, so that only I know what happens from here on. The body of the sailor floats on the water, and a head pops up next to the corpse. (I assume it to be a woman, as I can see long blonde hair.) She takes the body underwater and does not resurface. I have no memory of any stories pertaining to a blonde, sea-goddess that takes the corpses of sailors. It was by chance I saw her the first time at all.
I will report more as I see it, but I hope I shall not have to. I have a theory that these storms are caused by her so that she might take sailors. Yet not every storm has ended in such tragedy. I do not intend to tell the crew. Such a story will only frighten and intimidate. They must be strong now.
I pray that the wind is with us, and that Poseidon will ease our journey, yet I feel in my heart of hearts that this simply will not be.
Captain Liam Jones
Jewel of The Realm
Killian thumbed the page absentmindedly, and flipped through the book some more. That journey had been almost two years ago. Had Liam seen her again? He paged through the journal, and stopped to read a bit more. He'd seen her twice after, with the death of Perkins and Jackson. Killian suddenly couldn't bear to read anymore. The presence of Liam was so strong he could barely breathe over it. He set the book down quietly and lumbered up the stairs onto the deck.
"You're relieved, Black." He said, kicking the sailor's sleeping form. "Don't let me catch you sleeping on watch again." The sleepy sailor leapt up and stammered an apology before ducking down below deck. There was silence, save for the lapping of the waves on the hull of the ship, and Killian revered in it. His eyes searched the horizon, but no blonde-head of hair popped above the water. Killian vaguely thought to himself that she might only appear with death at her heels (or fin, perhaps?) and that he did not want to see her himself.
It was a month later when his cabin boy died from his wounds. They'd raided a ship and the poor boy had gotten caught in the crossfire. Killian himself had no care for the boy, only thinking that death might be a more peaceful existence than what he was living now. But he could see the gazes of the crew on his back, and he knew that he must give the boy a burial at sea if no more than that.
So he stood above the body just before dawn and delivered a small speech about his bravery and the unpredictable nature of the sea. The body was slipped into the ocean, and Killian thought of the blonde she-witch that Liam had written of, as the boy splashed into the sea below.
"Below deck. Now. All of you." He growled, hoping to elicit a timely response. He was not disappointed, as the crew scurried below deck before he could blink more than twice. He leaned over the hull, hand gripping the rope tightly as he looked for the body. It slowly drifted out, and Killian thought to himself that Liam might've been mad and imagine the whole thing. But just as the sun broke the horizon and set the water aflame, an unmistakable blonde head rose out of the water, looked in the ships direction for a few moments and then drug the body below the surface. The head did not resurface, although he watched for what seemed like hours.
Killian barricaded himself in the captain's quarters and poured over Liam's journal. He concluded with two bits of information. She did not bring death. She followed it. She only appeared to take the corpse. She never was seen before the soul had left the body. And she must be taking them somewhere. But where? And why?
Killian sat in the small dory boat, trying to see anything in the ocean around him. It had been dark for hours, and Killian had sat waiting with Wilkes' body next to him since sunset. He'd demanded that the ship stay close, two men on watch to recapture him when he signaled with his lantern. Deciding that he had sat silently long enough, Killian pushed the body into the water and settled himself to watch. Wilkes had been a good man, and Killian did feel sorry for his death. It had been two years since he'd seen the sea-witch. The curiosity had turned into an obsession, and Killian felt morbidly guilty for wishing one of his crew would die so that he might ask where she took the sailors when they died.
"Are you waiting for me, Lieutenant?" a voice from behind him asked.
He nearly fell overboard trying to turn around.
To say she was lovely was an understatement. She was the most radiant of creatures (for that was what she must be) he had ever seen. Liam had been right about her head. It was a blonde halo cascading down her back and around her in the water in eerie tendrils. She had soft facial features, but her eyes were a piercing green and held a hardness to them that even he could not deny.
"That," he swallowed hard and tried to contain himself, "is Captain to you, sea-witch."
Instead of hissing like he imagined a creature of the sea might, she smiled and laughed like a melody tinkling on bells.
"I don't think quite yet. Maybe next time I see you, but not yet, Lieutenant Jones." She swan leisurely around the boat, and Killian tried to see what was propelling her, but the water was black. She wore what seemed to be a brown leather corset top, her cleavage pushed down to hid the assets he was sure she must have.
"I think it bad form that you know my name, and I don't know yours." He prompted, eyes not leaving hers for an instant. She smiled again, but shook her head. "Next time then perhaps, my lady?"
"I hope there won't be a next time, Lieutenant." There was silence for a long moment where he contemplated her answer and the seriousness of her eyes.
"I'm not really a lieutenant anymore." He shrugged, and looked at her as hard as he could, trying to gain some access into the mind that lay beneath the beautiful golden locks.
"But you're not a Captain either. What are you?" She asked, a smirk playing at her lips.
"I, madame, am a pirate." He raised his eyebrow at her and winked. "I suppose I couldn't ask you the same question."
"I'm no mermaid, if that's your question." She shook her head minutely and stuck out her tongue. "Disgusting, really. I don't care for the fins." She laid back on the water to expose a dainty foot.
"Then you are a siren?" He asked again, but she simply smiled alluringly.
"But I cannot sing." Her eyes raised to the stars, and then she began lacing Wilkes' pale, dead fingers in her own. "I'm afraid that I've overstayed my welcome, pirate. I hope not to meet again."
"Wait. I have questions." He demanded, reaching out to her. She flinched away immediately and swam back a pace. "Please."
"Those questions cannot be answered until you are the one floating in this water. I hope you never know." His lovely lady smiled. "Goodbye, pirate." Her head dipped beneath the water and Wilkes followed her.
"Goodbye, my lady."
"Waiting for me again, pirate? You must have some odd fascination with death, hmm?" The blond vixen floated around the boat in the chilled air. Killian was surprised that there were no chunks of ice floating in the water. The crisp of fall had faded to bitter cold. It had been pure good luck that one of his men fell asleep on watch duty and by dawn was frozen solid.
"Not death, love, but beautiful women are my weakness." Killian Jones smirked and rolled his tongue over his lips. She narrowed her eyes, but the smile hadn't left her lips.
"You're different now." She stated simply, rolling around in the light of dawn as if the sun had not touched her skin in ages.
"That I am. It has been a while since we last met." Killian yawned. "You couldn't have come a little earlier? I waited all night." A few rays of light were beginning to peek out of the horizon tentatively, but all was still dark enough to shield them from sight.
"I was busy." She frowned and her eyes hardened, the flirtation dissipating in the span of a moment.
"Too busy for a handsome man like meself?" He smiled hopefully at her again and winked. After a moment of deliberation on her part, she returned a small grin.
"I see many handsome men." She shrugged and moved up towards the boat. "What makes you think you're so important?" Her arms rested on the edge and it rocked towards her gently.
"I'm the only one with a beating heart," He said, leaning towards her face, the boat precariously rocking towards them.
"That can be remedied." She offered her hand and a vicious smile lit her features dangerously. He met her hand and shivered instinctively from the ice cold temperature of her wet skin. "Cold, pirate?"
"Not at all." He lied as she pulled his hand into the water up to his wrist. He could feel the cold water like a million tiny daggers plunging into his skin repeatedly. It wound its way up his arm and seemed to freeze him from the inside out. "Planning to drown me?" He stumbled on the last word, and she smiled at his lie.
"Not at all." She fired back, their faces now only inches apart. There was silence, except for the sound of soft waves against the boat and Killian's ragged breath coming out in small white puffs. "I should go." she whispered, and released his hand. He snatched it out of the water and gasped as the wind froze the bones in place.
But before Killian could catch his breath, she had disappeared into the depths with the corpse.
"You killed him." It was not a question. She had popped out of the water and in mere moments had determined the sources of his moderate guilt.
"You knew I was a villain when you met me. I had to see you again." He shrugged, but there was still a twinge of regret in his muscles. "Consider it a gift."
"You're no villain, pirate." Her expression softened a little, and Killian took it as a small victory, though mildly offended by her determination to see him as something other than what he was. "And I will keep your gift forever, but I would rather them not perish by your hand."
"I am a villain, love." Killian grinned like a cat and his eyes flashed playfully. "Don't you know what that flag means?"
"A sailor is not defined by the flag he sails under, even if the flag is crimson. You all still end up in my arms, do you not?" She shook her head sadly, eyes filling with unshed tears. Her head dipped under water, and Killian was sure she would disappear. She resurfaced on the opposite end of his small boat.
"He has a sister that will miss him when he does not return, you know." She was turning the young man's face in her hands, eyes locked on his features as if she was dissecting him apart. "She and her young child will starve now."
"How do you know?" Killian asked, ignoring the gnawing in the pit of his stomach. He would return to shore and set the man's loved one's up with enough money to last them for a long time. His own share, if he had to.
"Because I can hear him." She explained, finally looking away from the man. "Do not kill anymore on my account."
"I will not if you answer my questions." Killian narrowed his eyes in what he hoped seemed like a menacing-like manner.
"You're bluffing, Lieutenant. I would avoid cards if I were you." A smiled played at the corner of her lips. "But I'll concede to one questions if you promise to kill no more on my behalf." Killian nodded, trying to ignore the hotness in his cheeks as she recognized his lie.
"What sort of creature are you, milady?" He asked quickly, afraid she might take back her offer if the silence lingered between them for too long. She sighed, and looked up at the dark sky.
"I don't know, pirate." Her gaze returned to his face, and there was earnest longing in her eyes. "I can't remember. I'm no lady as you call me. I do not breathe, sleep, or eat. I'm no siren; I've never killed before." The words were spilling out of her mouth at a rapid pace, and Killian listened intently, driven not to miss a single word. "I don't have fins, I don't have any magic. I do not know what I am, or how I came to be."
"Then perhaps a swan." Killian offered her sarcastically, frustrated with her lack of knowledge as much as his own. He leaned back into the boat and sighed a little.
"I like swans." She said softly, looking at him timidly
, trying to judge his reaction. Killian laughed a little, and she relaxed.
"Then a swan you shall be." Killian flashed her another grin, and bowed slightly in the boat. "Goodnight, Swan."
"Goodnight, pirate."
His curiosity only grew. He had to know. For the first time since his brother's death, Killian tore the Captain's Quarters apart looking or information. Firstly, he had to know what kind of creature she was. That was the most important question. He had no intention of putting his crew in danger of a witch, if that was her nature. However, there was a nagging in the back of his mind that he could not erase. She was lost. It was in her eyes, it was in the quiver of her voice when she tried to talk about a past she had no recollection of. There was nothing. So Killian headed towards land, if only to restock the ship and spend the spoils of the last few raids. The crew was restless anyway, so he justified the journey.
Milah was an unforeseen adventure. She was lovely, any man could have seen that. But it was her hunger Killian truly admired more than her beauty. From the moment he met her, she had this desire in her heart that he could scarcely ever hope to fill. She'd begged him first for stories of a life far away from hers in this little village. He obliged, flirting restlessly, and recounting the tale of how he single-handedly conquered the greatest vessel King John had and then stole the crown straight off his head. She'd laughed, and there was a brightness to her that Killian loved.
"I think you're a damned liar." She smiled at him and took another drink, they were now the only two left in the hall of the inn. His crew had all retreated to a resting place, the lucky ones upstairs with the prostitute of his choice. "I think you must be more than just a pirate."
"No, milady. I'm no more than a humble pirate." Killian smirked infamously at her. "Pirates want treasure." He reached out and played with the ends of her raven hair. It was soft and fell through his fingers like water. "But I wonder what you want."
"I want adventure." She shrugged his hand away from her, making him look at her face. He saw naught but earnest longing written all over her features. "Take me away from here, Captain."
"It's bad luck to have a woman aboard." Killian countered, trying not to let his desire get the best of him. She was lovely, quick-witted, and looked as if she might be able to handle a sword if someone would teach her how. His mind whispered that there was no good reason not to take her along, if only to bring her somewhere to start a new life.
"I can make it up with work. I can cook good meals. I can bet your crew doesn't have much good food to eat on voyages." Her eyes were furious with need for danger, and he could feel it radiating off her in strong waves. "I can do laundry. And I can carry my own weight. I'll sleep on the deck if I have to."
There was silence while Killian debated in his mind. The crew would go crazy. A woman in their quarters? He shuddered to think the kind of "rest" Milah would have down with thirty men. No, that wouldn't do. Jukes cooked just fine, but the man had been bugging him for a helping hand for a long time now. Laundry, however, was something most of his men had never heard of. The Jolly was a naval vessel, there were means to wash garments, but they'd not been used since...
"Well?" She drew his thoughts back to her initial question.
"You will most definitely not be sleeping on the deck. It's far too cold still. You'll just have to sleep in my quarters." Killian shrugged nonchalantly, but couldn't help but smile when she threw her arms around him in joy.
When she dies, no, when she is murdered, all he can feel is anger. It runs in his veins, simmering just below the surface of a cool exterior he knows. He wonders how long he will have to sit here with his beloved before she comes to collect. It turned out to be only a few minutes, but it felt like forever he was trapped with his lifeless love.
"I'm so sorry." It's the only thing she utters once she surfaces, blonde halo first, sad green eyes, and then pale shoulders. Her hand takes Milah's tentatively, as if testing the skin for warmth. "She really did love you so."
He recognized the tone in her voice. It was Liam's. He had heard it a few memorable times when his brother had to inform the family of a sailor that their son, their husband, their father had perished at sea, and he would not return this time. It filled his already broken heart with dread, knowing that there was nothing she could do now. It was silly of him to hope that she could bring life back. He bit his tongue so hard he could taste blood. He swallowed the metallic sting and looked back up at Swan.
"Take me with you." He had meant it to sound resolute, but even he could recognize the smallness in his plea. He already knew the answer before her lips parted.
"I cannot." Her chin trembled faintly, and he thought he could pick up tears of grief in her eyes, but it was not. He wondered vaguely if she could weep, or if it was forbidden of her to feel pity or sorrow for those she collected from the waves of the sea. He clutched at Milah's cold hand desperately.
"Please." It was broken and emasculate. If he were in a right mind, Killian would berate himself. A pirate captain that ravaged the seas would never beg. But he did anyway. "I cannot let her go."
"I'm sorry." She shook her head again. "It is in the very nature of death to let go. You will be lost forever if you do not."
"I was lost before her." He snapped viciously, but Swan did not retreat as she had done before. "I have been lost since Liam died. She is the only way. I must follow." He was rambling now, nearly leaning over the boat into the black waters. Gently, Swan's pushed him back into the boat, first prying his fingers from hers, and then letting him rock back naturally.
"I cannot take you with her. You must find your own way now." Her voice was sweeter than before, but it held biting truth. "But I will give you a favor, if you ask it of me." Her eyes were imploring him, he could see that she was attempting to lead him to a conclusion. "My duty is to ferry souls lost at sea to another somewhere beyond this realm. What would you have me do?" Her gaze bored into him as he cleared his mind to ponder her words.
"I would have you go with her in my stead to this realm beyond. I would have you ensure her safety." He looked at her for confirmation, and she nodded, but did not smile.
"I will go with her until the end. She will not be alone." Swan breathed deeply and took Milah's hand, but before she could disappear, Killian's hand caught theirs, once again almost tumbling out of the boat.
"But where will you take her?" He asked quickly, his voice rattling dangerously.
"Somewhere better." Swan reassured him, softly pushing him back. "We must go if we are to make safe passage." She paused again as Killian retracted his grip slowly. "I sense we will meet again soon. You are planning great travels."
"To Neverland." He confirmed. "I lost my way to travel realms."
"No, you haven't." She corrected, searching the pocket of the woman in the water. "She saved it for you." The bean was promptly placed in his hand.
"Goodbye, Captain." She bit her bottom lip and he saw the conflict in her eyes, but before he could question her again she had descended, taking his heart with her.