Author's Note: So I started Once Upon A Time a few days ago, and I have to admit I'm hooked! (You get it, hooked? I'm terrible, I know) and I decided I had to write a oneshot for the world's sexiest Pirate. I may continue, depending on the response, and I'm considering working on a Jefferson one! Sorry if this is off, but I really enjoyed writing it nonetheless!
Pale, blue light shone downwards like through the broken stone ceiling of the cavern. Water trickled peacefully down.
Drip…! Drop…! Drip…! Drop…!
She sang to herself calmly, her tail skimming the water. The cavern was large and echoing, a small secluded sea of serene turquoise water lying in its belly. The only entrance into the forgotten cave was through a small, dark, watery tunnel, the entrance of which was covered with thistles and palms – hidden from plain view.
A rugged stone shore lined the cave, the jutting rocks covered in green slime washed up by the frothy tide which was currently lapping its white tongues against her golden scales. "My heart is pierced by cupid, I disdain all glittering gold…" her high and clear voice echoed through the large, wrecked ship that lies in the small ocean. The entrance the glorious and proud ship entered through was blocked many years ago by an avalanche of rubble. The riches it carried now lay forgotten in the belly of the green rotting planks – her sisters had ensnared her crew a long time ago. "There is nothing can console me but my jolly sailor bold…" She sang calmly, running her fingers through her wet strands of hair.
"His hair it hangs in ringlets, his eyes as black as coal, my happiness attend him, wherever he may go," a loud voice sang jovially from the tunnel leading to the cavern as a flickering light suddenly stained the rocky walls as the small raft and its occupants rounded the bend. "From Tower Hill to Blackwall, I'll wander, weep and moan," he continued loudly as the light grew closer and closer, "all for my jolly sailor. Until he sails home!" The male finished with a bellow.
Her eyes narrowed as she slipped off her perch and into the warm and gentle water. The small boat came into view, slipping gently passed the pillars of limestone like teeth at the entrance of her lair. The raft carried two men; one puffing away relentlessly, struggling to urge the boat forward with the two paddles he held in each meaty fist. The red-knit beanie atop his head slipped over his eyes and his face matched the colour of his head-wear.
The other man intrigued her, to say the least. Tall, foreboding and confident; sharp ice blue irises scanned the cave, obviously looking for the source of the melody – herself. He had a strong jaw, a light jet-black stubble coating the protruding angle. The man's hair was the same dark colour and he was young – too young to be a pirate, she mused - and handsome, in her opinion. Weren't Pirates meant to be ghastly barbarians intent on pillage and rape? This man did not seem so, but then again, looks were deceiving. She of all should know that little gem of cruelty. "Captain, whoever it was," huffed the red-capped man, "she's obviously gone!" He gasped as the raft was gently pushed onto the shore with a bump.
"Come Smee! She can't have gone far…" The Captain insisted, hopping off his petite vessel and landing with a rumble atop her perch. He swayed slightly, his footing uneasy against the slippery surface. "Come love," he called, turning as smoothly as he could, his arms out in welcome and speaking to the seemingly empty area. She hid behind a pair of boulders, her neck down submerged in the warm, shimmering water she spent her days in.
"We haven't got all day for hide and go seek." He smirked and with a shudder, the siren noticed his left hand wasn't there – instead, a glinting silver hook replaced it. Within a second, something clicked. She knew this man, and knew he did not appreciate his time wasted.
Slowly, she swam into view. "You want something, Hook?" She challenged, and his smirk grew wider and far more arrogant than she thought humanly possible. "Yes Lass," he whispered, leaning down to her level, peering over the shore line. His face hovered above hers, piercing blue staring down into her green.
They weren't green precisely, he noted, they were turbulent. Blue and green fighting for dominance, raging war against one another – an infernal and never-ending battle never deemed to cease until her eyes closed for a final time. They were as vicious as the stormy sea and as calm as the ocean at the same time.
And they were beautiful. It was in Hook's nature to want something beautiful, and want her he did.
He almost felt he was in a trance, his mind groggy and his limbs heavy as he stared down into her entrancing eyes. Mentally, he cursed the power siren magic had upon unwitting mankind. But his face did not betray his anger, for her spell had a look of serenity and awe wash over his face.
Little had he known, that only a Siren's song could have such affect, and she wasn't singing in that moment, now was she?
"I…I want to know why a pretty little thing like you is trapped here, all alone?" He murmured, his hook reaching toward her heart shaped face. Her jaw set, she gritted her pearly white teeth as the cool sliver trailed itself across her cheek. She refused to tremble, to shake in front of this notorious tyrant. Pan, the demon, had spoken of him. She wanted nothing to do with either this man, or the little brat who called himself King of Neverland. But despite herself, she admitted; Hook was gentle in his gaze and soft in his grasp. He didn't seem to want to harm her.
But that could be a mistake, if she allowed herself to believe it.
"I'm not alone." She spat, her velvet voice rolling with venom as the bitterness behind the sentence cut Hook to the bone, for a reason he could not describe. Perhaps it was merely the work of the siren's charm upon his whimsical state, but he felt hurt at her words.
A shame, he thought, that such a beauty could hold such bitterness and wraith behind an angelic face. He smugly gazed around the chamber; his hook daintily placed underneath her delicate chin and lifted her face up towards his. "Forgive me, but I see no other soul here other than myself, you and my man." He calmly and confidentially stated as in a ghost-like grace in a perfect unison, three beautiful women rose from the water behind their sister. A black-haired lass, a blonde, and a redhead.
But Killian did not notice any of the three, but merely the fourth he held in his hook. "I told you I wasn't alone." She told him, smirking up at him. He laughed softly, releasing her.
Her intoxicating gaze still remained on his face as she slipped further away, toward her sisters.
But Killian Jones had a mission, a simple one but yet an insanely draining one by the same token. To make this woman of the water his, and to make her sing only for him. Milah…sweet Milah. The pain in his heart came back, but was shoved aside as his gaze fell back upon the siren. Milah and this woman were now duelling, fighting for dominance over the feared Captain's heart.
He feared for his own safety, for his sanity during the battle…because he was unsure which woman would win. The woman who died in his arms, who sailed the seas with him in a search of adventure, or the woman who floated before him, a wickedness and mystery in her eye with knowledge he ached and yearned to learn.
"What's your name, love?" He asked, his hook still outstretched as she lifted her head, calling a brief introduction, "Saskia, love." She cheekily responded and Hook chuckled.
Hook returned to the cave, much to the displeasure of Saskia, but soon...soon she began to await his visits eagerly. Against her judgement, she had grown attached to a land-lover, a sin worse than losing your voice among Sirens.
Saskia. His Saskia. Killian frequented the cave many times, sitting in the captain's chair in the destroyed ship as Saskia lay, playing with glistening jewels and precious gems that littered the rotting floor. Killian was always amazed the floor didn't collapse underneath his footing, particularly around the section Saskia would enter through. At first, he would swagger in, and she would only begin to peer in through the floor toward the end of his visits. Slowly, day by day, she grew to trust the pirate more, ignoring every warning signal within her until eventually she sat in a pond of water in the captain's cabin on the other side of the room.
His reputation had no power in her domain, in her home.
He had talked to her of his hatred of The Crocodile – Rumpelstiltskin - and how he was going to skin him for Milah. Saskia had not uttered a word during these rants of rage, merely tying strands of pearls and diamonds to her tail as if they were pathetic pieces of twine.
But one day, after months of never-ending hatred toward The Crocodile, and his pain over Milah, he entered and uttered not a single word of either his lover or her murderer. He sat there, watching the water swish over his boots, watching Saskia play with her 'toys.' He had even added a few sets of solid gold and silver cutlery and cups to her large play-pen.
"Would you ever board the Jolly Roger?" Killian asked suddenly, and as she nimbly picked up a golden chalice, responded with a curt no. "Why not?" Killian asked, vaguely offended at her bluntness. Saskia turned to him, her long auburn hair falling over her chest like stringy seaweed. "My tail would fall away to reveal legs. Like the two you stand on. It would be agony, and…" She trailed off, shivering at the thought as her free hand trails along the golden scales.
"And?" Hook urged, "I would never be able to get my tail back." She whispered, and hastily, Killian had changed the subject.
Then tragedy struck.
The last time Killian had seen her was when the Lost Boys knocked an unsuspecting Killian out and dragged Saskia screaming into the open ocean, laughing and joking jovially amongst themselves about how their master, Pan, may allow them to keep a strand of her hair each; maybe even a scale if they were lucky. His final memory of her was her sweet voice screaming his name, and his own voice, gentle and weak, promising he would find her. Promising he would bring her home.
But Neverland was a treacherous place, filled with danger and peril. And thusly, his Saskia was never discovered.
Not until the Jolly Roger arrived in Storybrooke.
The sun rose swiftly over Storybrooke, and Killian stepped onto the dock with a heavy thud. "Apparently, Hook, you aren't the only pirate in Storybrooke." Cora stated, smirking, as she swished down the dock. Killian frowned as the morning breeze gently brought the sound to his ears.
"What will we do with the drunken sailor, what will we do with the drunken sailor early in the morning!" A voice sang loudly and Hook tilted his head to the side, following the voice down the dock until he found the source.
A houseboat sat at the end of the dock totally alone, its exterior painted a rustic and sunny yellow and blue. The top of the red door opened, as did the bottom. The top was opened to reveal a young woman with short hair standing in her kitchen come sitting room. She was singing along wildly, shaking her jean clad hips along to the beat. Her back was turned to Killian as his eyes fell upon the missing person's poster slapped on the bottom half of her door. She had obviously gotten a professional to draw the photo for her, or else she was exceptionally talented, and underneath the photo read in big red letters;
"Have you seen this man?
NAME: Killian Jones/Hook
LAST SEEN: N/A
DESCRIPTION: Approx. 5'11, short black hair, earrings, blue eyes and a scar below his right eye,
Missing a left hand – hook instead."
Killian frowned, confusion clouding his mind; why would this woman want to find him so badly? So much so she had gone to the trouble of designing, drawing and printing posters. Clearing his throat and jumping aboard, she yelped. The woman turned on her heel swiftly, a frying pan in her hand and her stance one of a fighter. Killian's sassy comment caught in his throat when he recognized the woman prepared to strike him.
The pan fell to the floor with a clatter and Killian was knocked against the door as the woman threw herself into his arms. "I wasn't sure I would see you again." She mumbled, pressing her face into the pirate's chest. "Well, this is a surprising reaction." Hook sassily responded and Saskia briefly tightened her grasp, his ribs howling in pain as she loosed her grip. A warning. Hook's face buried itself in her short hair, wrapping his leather-clad arms around the small woman.
It was still Saskia, definitely. Definitely still Saskia.
Just not with that fishy smell, and now she was back.
Back to help him destroy Rumpelstiltskins.