AU. The Court is known throughout the land as an underground entity with an inclination for heroism, help, and a dash of havoc. Obtain their aid and your quest is certain to see fulfilment, or so the rumours go –– and Killian Jones is not a man easily turned down. A tale of love and betrayal, as they all are [Enchanted Forestish]
AN: I have been working on this idea since before finals, and it is only now that exam panic/christmas panic/nye panic (I work with a company that is quite hectic this time of the year) has ended that I've been truly allowed to entertain it. I'm not certain how far down the rabbit hole it goes quite yet, but I promise it'll be a journey.
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He'd been expecting it for the last several weeks, had been filled to the brim with the taste of anticipation and enticement, the kinds of which only an organization like theirs could stir within him.
It had started with small signs –– a carriage sprawled on the side of the road with part of the symbol tacked on the door, a man who ushered them into the harbour and spoke of revenge with a smile, a lady insistent that eastwards is where you shall go –– until it had cumulated into the precipice of a beggar on the street offering him a coin with the ensign emblazoned across a pick axe, then a drunk dwarf hiccupping the name of an inn into his ear the following night. He was hardly obtuse, knew that if you needed help like theirs, you had to wait them out, and persistence paid.
Yet it was difficult, even now, to just wander the town and wait for another sign, another arrow to point him in the right direction. He didn't do help, he was his own damn leader and he hated taking orders, hated showing obedience of any kind. He'd do it, would do absolutely anything, as long as it led him closer to his goal, but he loathed the feeling.
But one had to fight for what they wanted, even if fighting took the form of centuries spent in limbo, and he had decided. He wanted this.
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"Second floor, room at the end of the hall."
The lady, an elderly woman with eyes of steel and hair as grey as the smoke of gunfire, slipped him a piece of paper and walked away before he could reply. She hadn't been his server this last night, but he had seen her at the tavern before – she had never given her name, and of course he had made a point to pay her heed because of it. Another contact he had yet to puzzle out.
Hook stared down at the sheet instead, blank but for a twisting black line that oddly resembled the singular wing of a butterfly. It took less than a heartbeat to come racing back to him (the carriage, the harbour, the pick axe), the recognition and the realization, before he was on his feet and out the bar, chucking down far too much coin for his drink in order to escape faster.
They're here.
Thankfully the back door doubled as both an exit and an entrance, leading into a small hallway that conducted to the place he had been rooming at for the better part of the week. He need not even take a step outside.
(it was time, it was finally time, and he refused to be kept any longer)
He stomped through the inn, taking little care to mute his footsteps –– an unnecessary task, as they claimed the entire town as theirs. It was a dark night out tonight, the evening of the new moon, and there was insufficient light streaming through the open windows to effectively illuminate the hallway. When he opened the door and strode in, it was to an entirely pitch black room. Starlight allowed for little to be seen, but he knew from the structure of his own lodgings and the half formed shapes of the shadows that besides the bed and desk, laid out opposite to his own, there were still fathomless pools of darkness one could hide in.
Yet, the figure made no attempt to remove themselves from his sight. He sat on the windowsill, long legs stretched out to caress the floor, donned in a dark cloak that hid most of his facial features from Hook.
One gloved hand gestured for him to shut the door, and he had to remind himself that this was finally happening that this was real, before he was able to do so.
When he turned back around, walking a little farther into the room, he was certain, despite the lack of visibility, that the man was smiling at him.
Bastard.
Silence fell into the room, slowly building and building as neither of them made a move to break it. It struck him as odd, briefly, that he had worked so hard to find these people, and was left only with stubborn words curling in his throat the moment he did.
"Hook," the voice said easily, seemingly perfectly content to be the first to speak, unconcerned with what had been a quietly growing discontent, and with a start he realized what had seemed so off –– the pitch was that of a woman's "it is so nice to finally meet you."
He noted that she had not chosen to say see you.
"M'lady the Thief I presume." He smirked, recovering from his shock and dropping into a mocking bow. "It is an honour."
She made no move to pull her hood back or to move from her spot. Instead, she canted her head to the side as if to study him. "Is it now?"
When he stood up she had her arm tucked back under her body, holding her body lazily against the wooden frame of the window. There was absolutely no tension in her body, and he considered this minor insult in passing. "I have been wanting to meet you for quite some time." He said instead.
"We are aware."
Insufferable, incensing –– "Then you are similarly informed of the reason for my wish of assistance?"
Her smile should have been an intimation.
"We know all about the tales you have been spreading across our city, Hook." She scoffed. "A noble quest indeed. Struck wrongly by a dastardly beast who avenges for your suffering, and in retaliation and protection of you and those deemed important, you merely wish to quell his life. To halt his evil ways and save the land from his curse. Found it a touch difficult to take down a demon of his calibre though, hmm?"
He held back the rising accusations with a belligerent smirk. "You do possess quite the arsenal of skills, don't you love?"
She smiled again, but it was without kindness. "You may save the false flatteries. Do you believe we would not have done our research?"
"Research?"
The thief drew up her arm, the one she had kept hidden, and suddenly in front of him was another piece of parchment, this time not with their insignia but with her ––
–– memories rushed past him then, a deep laugh and a wicked grin, green eyes sparkling up at him with pure joy and he the one to place it there, full red lips enticing him in further and further until he was standing above her with nothing but a shell in his arms and–
The sound of rolling paper drew him out of his daze, the woman in front of him placing the portrait back into her cloak, and he didn't fight the anger that tightened his face, tensed his shoulders and brought the taste of blood to the very forethought of his mind. It infuriated him, he had rarely given others the opportunity to engage him so thoroughly, yet he knew he needed their help, needed their resources, but fuck the cowards who used her image against him.
"Glad to see we can both be honest Hook." The Thief said to him, and he realized she must've been watching his face the entire time. "It's very important to us that you realize the severity of lying to our face."
"Is that an invitation to deceive you elsewhere?" The quip came out without pause and as such it bore the full brunt of his rage. Of his pain.
She frowned, and he sensed it was not because she was disappointed in him. "You will not be able to deceive me at all –– I'm very skilled at detecting lies."
He wanted to laugh then –– wasn't that the entire purpose of her being there, to lie, deceive, trick, and steal? –– but once more rolled the response back into his throat. Oh how he loathed standing on unequal ground.
"You weren't precisely innocent when the Dark One attacked you, were you Hook?" She continued, and her voice held pity and a smudge of something else he cared not to decipher. "And he is not seeking you so much as you are thirsting for revenge. A dangerous game that is."
And yet…desperate times.
"Aye lass, and what would you know of vengeance?"
Her hand twisted in her lap, the one that had communicated his silence, his thirst, and as such told more than she likely wanted to let on, and she quietly admitted. "Enough to entice us to look over your case again. Tell me, why not admit that you wanted equal payment for what he did to you, if your cause is so worthy of our help?"
It was precisely for that reason, that while nothing had been more worthy to him, it was only to him and –– "I enjoy the odds being stacked in my favour."
She nodded. "The pirate didn't want to gamble. Yet, you must have thought we would offer eventually, knowing our reputation."
She was referring to the rumours of her organization; that while they were not necessarily above the law they certainly did not play in its grasps.
Still, something about the way she was speaking to him, with calculation carefully removed from judgement, and of course, that they had even set up a meeting…
–– "Are those your only terms then, Thief? I mustn't lie?"
If she was annoyed by his alteration of the topic she didn't comment on it. Rather, she held up her arm, the left one again, and counted carefully off her fingers. "We require honesty, until our endeavours together have ended, and we dictate the body count, so you mustn't kill recklessly –– We are…aware you've been apt to do." She said, with a small exhale that might have been a laugh. "Same goes for the unnecessary torture and bodily harm. We decide the plan of action, and while you are welcome to dispute it, keep in mind that it is our help you have sought, and we ultimately choose the mission path."
Three simple rules, ones he had expected, although that did little to quell the annoyance in his chest –– don't lie, don't kill, and don't try to lead.
She had to have read the displeasure in his stance when she continued on, for his face was kept carefully blank. "Your motives are pure, your loss is very real, yet your actions have been misplaced. We understand revenge, but you shall find we only offer justice. Nothing more, nothing less."
"And what if I told you I am only looking for the former?" He asked, utterly undecided between kill the bitch who tries to rule you and kill the bastard who stole your love. Either way, he found it useless to attempt to keep the blood thirst out of his tone.
"I would advise you to seek help elsewhere." She pointed out, then laughed. "But that is your problem, isn't it Hook?"
Because, his enemy was too powerful to kill without their help.
What was that motto of yours?" She added, and he snarled, silently. "A man unwilling to fight for what he wants, deserves what he gets?"
Hook stalked forward, his hand balled into a fist. "How do you know ––"
She held up a finger. "Ah, ah." She tsk'ed, finally sliding off her pedestal and standing in front of him. She was tall for her sex, though she still stood underneath him. The new angle cast her face in total darkness, even the lips which he had been watching for any signs of weakness, and he realized with a jolt that even this was entirely planned. "Threatening will get you nowhere. I told you we have done our research."
This time his growl was entirely audible.
"See, I have a saying too." She continued, finally dropping the damnable royal we. "Actions speak louder than words –– and yours are screaming hostility."
"Pray tell then, m'lady," he whispered, moving closer yet to her "why have you agreed to meet with someone who you have already decided upon?"
She smiled again, and moved back, finally allowing him the chance to breathe again. "You are amiss pirate. I never declared your hostility out of place."
A heartbeat passed, and then he surged forward. "Wait, are you saying ––"
"Killian Jones," the Thief said, straightening up and pushing him back in one fluid, formal motion "the Court offers you it's aid in defeating the being known as the Dark One, for the crimes committed upon you and your lover. I have told you our terms –– do you agree?"
He could handle anything, the rules and restrictions and posturing, if it meant they were giving him their aid. The Court had one very strong and irrefutable argument going for their organization –– they never failed.
"Aye." He breathed. "Your terms are acceptable."
She smiled, and the new gentleness did not go unnoticed by him, even under his haze of good fortune. "A deal has been struck." She said, reciting an oath that must have been repeated countless times previous, ringing hollowly familiar to him. "I will find you tomorrow morning. Be packed."
He didn't have the chance to offer another agreement or any sort of pass, before she had leapt back up to the windowsill and with a small flick of her wrist, thrown open the glass and disappeared into what he was certain was the evening crowd. And he made no move to follow her, even though it was a two story drop, even if he had yet to see her face.
Because they had accepted his quest. They had accepted –– tomorrow, the start of the end would begin.
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