In the land of untold stories waited hundreds of people, scared of their futures, hiding from their pasts.
He understood most of them, and he knew some of them - centuries of life will do that to a man; make them empathetic and knowing.
However, of all of them that he had expected to be confronted by - other pirates, a king or two, a mystical creature he may have stolen some secrets from at some point - he never expected to be greeted by a woman with sandy hair and curls like waves - blue eyes to be the ocean.
She had approached them outside of their home, tentatively asking for their names.
Her fingers were frail, and she shook a bit, appearing exhausted, so they answered.
Emma shook her hand and told her her name, and asked if she needed help with anything.
She looked to him and said she simply needed to know his name, before she took a step closer; examining his eyes.
He leaned forward and placed a kiss on her hand before introducing himself, and with a moment of silence to follow, her eyes lit up and he was struck by confusion.
"Killian, you said?" she asked with hope in her voice.
"Aye," he'd replied.
"Killian Jones," she said, her hands on his shoulders as she looked him in the eyes - recognition there, but ease not yet following.
He'd nodded slowly, dark brows furrowed as her smile made years of heartache fall away from her tired, tired eyes.
She jolted forward, and he jumped as he found himself wrapped in a tight embrace. He felt as though the years that had melted off of her face were similarly being eased off of his shoulders with the force of the hug.
He felt as though he was being returned to his times as a little boy, and when a hand came up to cradle the back of his head his head, a kiss planted gently on his forehead as she stood on tiptoes, it all came back.
"Mama?" he whispered, as a gasp sounded from Emma beside them. "Mama, is it you?" he asked, pulling away from the hug to look into her eyes - into the eyes that she gave him.
"Baby boy," she said quietly, tears brimming in her eyes as she leaned back in and held him tighter, if possible.
He buried his head in her shoulder as she hugged him, and found tears falling down his cheeks. She held him as she had so many years ago, and he could not help but to feel young - to feel weightless.
There were things to catch up on, moments he dreaded facing, things he was terrified to tell her.
Would she want him as her son when he had become such a ruthless man?
However, in that moment and those soon to follow, all that mattered was that he was in the arms of his mother, and that he no longer had to wonder if the only parents he'd ever have at this late in life would be in-laws.
(He loved David and Snow, but he knew that calling them "Mom" or "Dad" would never fly.)
Later, as they'd all been introduced and gone inside, Emma quietly asked what he was like as a boy. With a secret grin, she'd whispered things about his inability to pronounce his r's and the freckles that spotted his face - about how soft and squishable his cheeks had once been.
She mourned the loss of his childhood, and the fact that she'd never be able to laugh at his round little cheeks again - the deep dimples that showed when he followed her example.
With a small laugh, and a glance to make sure Killian's back was turned, she assured her that his cheeks were just as squishy when kissed, and his dimples just as deep when laughing.
And though this information was used highly to her advantage, and quite often, enjoying the giggles that followed her attacks, he couldn't say that he minded when he was blessed with a family he'd gained, and a mother that'd found him after his childhood was thought to be completely lost.