The thunder of hoofbeats fills the air as the roan mare gallops down the wide earthen path in the shadow of the needle-like spires of the Evil Queen's castle. Her rider urges her on, perched in the stirrups and leaning forward into the wind, his black leather duster jacket aloft behind him. The beginnings of a storm are curling on the horizon, the air heavy with the smell of coming rain, and, as accustomed as the man is to being soaked to the skin, he would still prefer to weather it from inside, rather than outside, the castle. Besides, he's survived quite an adventure to secure the prize that he carries now, and he's eager to get his hand on the magical compass he intends to exchange it for.
Killian has spent over one hundred fifty years seeking a way to destroy the Dark One, the demon that murdered his Milah and took his hand. A journey to Neverland to search for the answer had resulted in a lifetime's worth of servitude to the treacherous Peter Pan, but he'd finally gotten the information he'd been seeking in the end. Fate (or coincidence) had dropped Milah's son, Baelfire, into his lap, and while their time together had ended painfully, their burgeoning relationship soured, it had also left him with knowledge of the Dark One's dagger, the only weapon capable of killing the fiend. It also left him with fresh bitterness to feed his quest for vengeance, and it wasn't long after that he'd managed to bargain his way off the cursed island and out of Pan's bonds and set out to pursue the demon's demise with renewed zeal.
That was six months ago. Locating the dagger has proven a challenge. He suspects the Dark One keeps it close, but charging into the creature's castle without knowing what the dagger looks like and where in castle it is (if it is even in the castle) is suicide, and he hasn't survived this long by being a fool. Making inquiries, no matter how quiet, is dangerous and of limited use. Few people are willing to discuss the Dark One, and fewer still have any useful knowledge to impart. One of those few, however, is the Evil Queen of Misthaven. So, when she'd sent one of her black knights to track him down and summon him to a meeting a month ago, he jumped at the opportunity.
Rumors of her had proven true. She was coldly beautiful and regal, calculating and cruel. He'd come to her castle and stood in her chambers while she'd sashayed in circles around him like a great cat, a self-satisfied, predatory smile twisting her dark red lips. She'd told him that she was aware of his hunt for the Dark One and could help him. Then she'd told him about a magic compass, a relic which would always point him in the direction of the thing he needed most and which could help him locate the dagger. She had it in her possession, and she was willing to give it to him. He'd smirked cynically at that, fully aware that such a thing would cost him, and he was not at all surprised when her price turned out to be anything but trivial. She wanted the Sea Star, the fabled giant opal rumored to be guarded in the lair of a sea hag, a creature related to the merfolk, though more wraith than mermaid. He'd heard of it, of course, knew the tales that sailors swapped about the mesmerizing colors that shone from its depths and the unenviable fate of the imprudent men who'd gone after it. The idea of pursuing it himself had given him pause, though he'd disguised his trepidation as disinterest, careful to keep an expression of amusement on his face while he blinked lazily at her. Thankfully, when he'd failed to immediately accept her proposal, she'd sweetened the deal, offering him a vial of squid ink which could disable the hag and purring a promise to give him another vial to use on the Dark One in addition to the compass when he returned with her prize. He'd agreed.
Even with the squid ink and her instructions on where to find the hag, the adventure to retrieve the Sea Star had been harrowing. He'd suffered a number of cuts and bruises and been nearly choked to death at one point, but ultimately, he'd succeeded in killing the hag and claiming the legendary stone. The Jolly Roger had made haste back to Misthaven, and he'd secured a horse and set out on the two-day ride to the Queen's castle immediately, leaving Smee and the rest of his crew in port enjoying their time ashore and toasting their captain as the most able and daring pirate on the high seas.
Killian smiles grimly as he feels the weight of the gem, tucked away in one of his many purses, rise and fall with him in the saddle. Despite his gratification and relief at having secured the Sea Star, he knows that, unlike his crew, he can't celebrate yet. The jewel, while stunning, is just a means to an end, and he's had enough experience with villains like the Queen to know that their deal could still go awry and leave him without the tools he needs to find the dagger.
The heavens are rumbling when he arrives at the imposing black gate, the mare shying as though she can sense the atmosphere of doom and gloom here. He keeps his seat and holds her head steady, murmuring a low word of encouragement before calling out his name and his business to the black knights standing guard. It seems he's been expected, and it's not long before he's granted entrance to the castle grounds and escorted up to the Queen's chambers much like before.
She's facing away from him as he enters, her raven hair swept up elegantly atop her head today, her slinky, dark purple gown dripping in jewels and cut in a way that leaves her back almost entirely exposed to him as she tends to a leafy green plant in a terrarium. She turns at the sound of his footfalls, her dark eyes sparkling with pleasure and anticipation, and sets her pruning shears aside. "The conquering hero returns."
He snorts inwardly at her snark. "I have the item you asked for," he announces, halting in the middle of the room, intentional about keeping his distance even as he postures casually, weight on one hip, his hand on his belt.
Her wicked smile widens. "I knew I picked the right pirate for the job."
"Indeed." He gives her his most charming grin. "I trust you're prepared to hold up your end of our deal?"
"Naturally," she simpers, sauntering over to an ornate side table outfitted with several crystal flasks and glasses. She gestures. "Can I offer you a drink, Captain?"
"Aye," he replies, though he has no intention of actually imbibing anything this woman offers him. "Thank you." He makes his way over to the terrarium as she unstoppers a decanter. "I had no idea you had such a green thumb, your Majesty," he says, hunching over a little to study the plant. "Is this what I think it is?"
She throws him a smug smile over her shoulder as she pours. "It is."
He hums, genuinely impressed. "They say growing magic beans is no easy feat."
The Queen sets the decanter aside and approaches with two exquisite crystal tumblers filled with an amber liquor. "Well, you could say I have a magic touch," she replies, her tone suggestive as she sidles up to him and holds a glass out.
He glances down at the drink, his eye catching a small glass bottle on the worktable next to the terrarium with one of the translucent, milky white beans resting inside. The pirate in him can't help but contemplate how easy it would be to lift it when she isn't looking, but he knows that stealing from this woman is asking for serious trouble, and he puts the thought aside. "My thanks," he says accepting the glass.
She taps her cup to his with a soft clink. "To your health, Captain."
He gives a courtly bow at the waist. "Your Majesty." He watches as her lashes flutter downward and she takes a sip, lifting the tumbler to his lips but taking care not to let the liquid touch him.
She makes a satisfied sound at the taste. "Did the sea hag put up much of a fight?" she asks, meeting his eye coyly, her tongue poking out to catch an imaginary drop from the corner of her mouth.
Killian swirls the liquor in his glass absently and shrugs. "Nothing I couldn't handle," he replies with a smirk, acutely aware of how close she's standing next to him.
"Clearly." The Queen tosses her head and takes a deep breath, the tops of her breasts visibly rising and falling. "May I see?"
He acquiesces to play her flirting game – Heaven knows it's probably safer than rejecting a sorceress with a known appetite for wrath – so he makes a show of appreciating her décolletage, drops his voice into a slightly lower register, and arches his eyebrow devilishly. "You show me yours, and I'll show you mine."
His answer is too obvious, but it seems to please her nonetheless, and she gives a chuckle and moves away, giving him some room to breathe. Her hips sway as she walks across the room to a chest sitting on another side table between two sterling candelabras. The hinge squeaks when she swings the lid back, and she reaches inside, pulling forth a battered brass compass and the vial of ink. "As promised." She turns and raises them up so he can see the items before setting them down on the table and gesturing toward him, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Your turn."
He reaches back under his coat and retrieves the Sea Star, admiring the way it shimmers in the light one last time before tossing it up in the air and catching it. "I admit I'm curious to know its value to you," he says breezily, walking over to her with it in his outstretched hand. "None of the tales I've heard say anything about it being magical."
The Queen snatches it from his fingers as soon as it's within reach, beaming triumphantly. "It's not. Not on its own," she answers, running her fingers over the surface of the stone reverently. "But spells sometimes call for certain precious stones, and the bigger the stone, the more powerful the spell." She cackles and meets his gaze conspiratorially, sneering with delight. "This," she says, lifting the Sea Star to the light peer into its depths appraisingly, "is the only opal in the world large enough for my purposes."
He can feel the hairs rising up on the back of his neck at the evil gleam in her eye, but he forces his features to remain in an expression of polite interest. "What kind of spell are we talking about?" He quickly pockets the compass and the squid ink.
She turns and takes a few steps toward the balcony, looking out at the vast forest beyond. The sky has grown darker since he arrived, the clouds coalescing, and rain has begun to fall, the wind whipping the tops of the evergreen trees over so they bow eastward. "A curse that will finally rid me of Snow White and all of her loyal subjects once and for all," she says, her voice dropping to a deadly tone. "A magical plague that'll lay waste to her entire kingdom." She lets out a throaty laugh. "It'll be perfect. Painful, but so fast that none will have time to flee. I'm not even sure they'll have time to scream before they're all dead."
Killian's stomach twists in knots and bile rises in his throat. Mass murder. He's committed more than his fair share of dishonorable deeds and killed dozens of men in his time, but the idea of whole towns, of innocent children, falling to the Queen's curse sends a chill down his spine. His breath quickens, and he stares at the opal as she cradles it in her hands. His brother died to keep a monarch from poisoning a realm, and he's just enabled another to do the same. Gods, what has he done? And, more importantly, what does he do now?
The answer comes to him immediately, seizing him in the gut and overwhelming any thoughts he might be having to the contrary. He has to get the Sea Star back. It's not smart. It probably won't end well for him. But for the sake of Liam's memory and for the sake of own his conscience (which he is surprised to find still exists), there is no choice. Killian's mind begins to race, and he glances around, desperately seeking options, because the Queen is almost certainly going to want to kill him for what he's about to attempt, and she's well-equipped to do so. He swallows hard. He knows it'll be a miracle if he can make it all the way out of the castle without her catching up to him, and his certainty that he's going to die for this grows exponentially. It'll be one of the few things in his life he can be proud of though, he supposes – dying for the same cause that Liam did. Sadly, the idea is of little comfort.
No matter what happens to him, if he doesn't find a way to permanently keep the stone out of the Queen's hands, his sacrifice will be in vain. His eye falls again upon the magic bean in the bottle, and an idea forms. He licks his lips. "So when are you planning on carrying out your little plan?" he asks, surprised by the steadiness in his voice. "You'll understand if I want to be sure my crew and I are clear of Misthaven before the misery begins." He starts to wander back around the room, keeping his pace as aimless as he can manage despite the adrenaline that has begun to pulse through his veins. He's relieved when she seems too enamored with the Star to care about his movements, and though his hand is slightly shaky, he manages to set his tumbler softly on the worktable and swipe the bottle all in one subtle motion with her none the wiser.
She gives a fake pout. "Well, I suppose I could be persuaded to hold off for a few days," she drawls. "After all, it would be a shame to lose an associate such as yourself, Captain." She looks up and fixes him with a salacious smile as he approaches. "You've proven yourself quite useful."
His heart is pounding in his ears as he nods, scratching being his ear and averting his eyes so they don't betray him. "I try to be worthwhile," he replies softly, coming to a stop six feet away from her.
He moves in a flash then, whipping his sword from the scabbard and arcing it toward her hand, the steel biting her flesh and causing her to yell and drop the Sea Star. The jewel hits the stone floor with a thud, and in one fluid movement, his arm rotates back around and he knocks it away with the flat of the blade, sending it skittering across the room as the Queen snarls with rage. Killian sheaths his cutlass as he scrambles after it, and he's nearly closed the distance when he's suddenly overcome by the sensation of an invisible noose yanking tight around his throat. He grunts and wheezes, jerking down to his knees, his hand clawing at his neck, though there is nothing solid there for him to grab in order to lessen the suffocating grip.
"What the devil do you think you're doing?" the Queen hisses, coming up behind him, her voice infused with venom, her bleeding hand cupped in her magical chokehold.
Spots begin to swim in his vision as her pressure on his throat grows, threatening to crush his windpipe or simply snap his neck. His face begins to turn purple as he trembles and gasps like a fish out of water while looking up into her livid expression, the terror in his eyes mixed with defiance. It's everything he can do to reach into his pocket for the magic bean and spike the bottle into the floor a few feet next to him.
There's the tiny tinkle of breaking glass and then a huge an explosion of light and wind as an eerie green vortex materializes in the floor, and the squeeze on his throat suddenly disappears as the Queen is momentarily stunned by the appearance of the swirling, magical tempest and the sudden inexorable pull of its gravity. She yelps and scrambles to keep herself from being sucked in, grabbing at an iron torch sconce on the wall nearby. Killian coughs as the air returns to his burning lungs, his head still spinning on the verge of blacking out. Swaying, he flings himself haphazardly at the Sea Star, his fingers closing around it half a second before he rolls himself sideways and allows the portal to swallow him up, the Queen's outraged screech echoing in his ears.