So I don't know what the hell I'm thinking starting another story, but I've been struggling with my other stuff lately and I'm hoping this might help me process 5A haha. This story is a big combination of my Greek mythology knowledge, snippets from Hercules and OUAT scenes, and a few other things that I felt like tossing in :] definitely a little AU from what's been speculated for 5B so far. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it! All rights/characters belong to OUAT and its deviant writers. I own nothing.
Waiting. A hopeless, monotonous, never ending sort of waiting. If there was anything Killian Jones was good at, that was it. Okay, it wasn't that he was specifically skilled or even that he enjoyed it - no, it was more a matter of him having nothing else to be good at.
Well, at least not anymore.
In all actuality, he liked to think he'd always been a fairly patient man. As a sailor in his former life, Killian had much experience with biding time and even more so with drafting ways to achieve this desired calm temperament. Yet with all methods, there's often a bit of madness - and that was very much the case in his current circumstances.
Yes, the lunacy here came in the form of a number. Ten thousand two hundred twenty nine days….and counting. There was definitely no end in sight, but there was every reason to stop keeping track. He didn't though and he really had no clue why. So as time carried on, so did Killian.
He warred through every single day - and they all started the same.
He didn't require sleep anymore. He hadn't for years now - about twenty eight of them to be exact. Being in some state of deceased was the likely cause of such a side effect, but he still found himself laying flat on the damp cold ground each night while chasing down dreams. The pleasant type of slumber never came, but nightmares often plagued the sleep he fell into but didn't require. The flashes of sins he couldn't recall committing suffocated his mind as he tossed and turned on the hard terrain, a series of scrapes and soreness assaulting his back when he finally came to.
He didn't remember the terrorizing visions when he woke up in a cold sweat, his breath shaky in his throat as he rubbed at the dark circles surrounding his eyes. The dreary light that met his gaze arrived at different times every morning, a detail that caused his routine loving soul to drown in exasperation. An untimely rising wasn't the best way to greet the day, but then again, waking up in the barren land just outside of Hades' dominion wasn't high on his list of preferred locations either.
It had taken him a few years to confirm, but the area he was being forced to call home was wedged between the River Styx and its surrounding marsh. It wasn't paradise, but it wasn't exactly awful either. The water had always soothed him and this river was no exception - as long as he could avoid the snap of the occasional crocodile. Thank the gods their ghostlike nature meant they weren't permitted on solid ground.
He couldn't help the fact that he always came back to the same place. The edge of the downtrodden mass of trees was the quietest spot he had come across since he'd landed here and the view when the sinking light burned at the brimstone horizon was nothing short of menacingly beautiful. Plus, it was some semblance of a routine - and he needed to cling to that.
He found his feet earlier on this particular day than he had in a long while, his mind free and his vision sharp. Running an anxious hand through his unkempt and disheveled hair, Killian tried not to question the clarity he felt as he brushed off his sleeves and rolled his shoulders in hopes of assuaging the dull pain in his back. There weren't many mornings that started quite so fresh when one was trapped in this realm and it was likely that it wouldn't last long. He decided to make the most of it.
A dull mist hung in the air as Killian trampled down the shallow hillside onto a well worn path, cracked cobblestones underfoot as he adjusted the hood of his ragged, black cloak. God, he hated wearing that damn thing, but the Underworld wasn't hell - and the cool temperature proved that. He was about to once again wonder why he hadn't lost that sensation of hot and cold, but decided against the useless curiosity. His trip to this in-between prison seemed to break a lot of rules - the fact that he still felt human was just one of the many grievances that had graced that list.
Shivering slightly, his steps fell heavy as he wandered toward the sound of soft wailing. He'd headed this same direction a few times before and given the fact that things rarely changed around here, Killian was vaguely sure that the lost souls that manned the area surrounding Hades' orchards hadn't gone anywhere. The jaunt wouldn't be a short one, but the several miles would give him time to think - it wasn't as if he had much else to do. He staggered along the ash covered walkway as he set into the familiar pattern of brooding.
Twenty eight years had flown by faster than they should have. Killian's frustration had evened out after a stretch of time, his extreme anger and raging temper driving him to near insanity for the first decade or so. Eventually, he'd done what he had to in order to keep his wits - he shut it all off. Everything from his emotions to his sense of hope became dull after a while, something he was glad for when he couldn't be glad for much else. The Underworld didn't seem like a place where keeping your humanity about you would be helpful so burying it was his best option until he had another. Well, or at least until he found out what he was doing here. Killian had accepted long ago that he wasn't fit for heaven, but there had to be a reason as to why he wasn't in hell yet. He just wished he knew what it was.
Perhaps that was the bane of the entire thing - Killian knew very little of his own demise. His life had ended abruptly and in a way he only vaguely remembered. He'd heard it mentioned that this was the way of this intermediate holding place - memories became bleak and broken as a man waited for judgement. Souls came to be purified or persecuted based on mortal actions. He knew whatever he'd done as a man was questionable, but maybe it was somehow redeemable. After all, he wasn't burning for it - yet. Instead, he was waiting.
It was a coin flip as to which was worse at this point. He was pondering just that as he bent down to untangle his cloak from the prickly thorns of a rare bush on the side of the path.
"Bloody hell!"
The often used and now quite ironic sentiment left Killian's lips in a startled yelp as something from just behind the prickly plant hissed loudly. He jumped backward with wide eyes and his heart pounding as a feral, wiry whiskered animal skulked from the undergrowth. Killian couldn't help how hard he grit his teeth when the feline stretched its legs with a meow.
"Sodding cat…."
He mumbled his irritation as he side eyed the mangy orange tabby before heading up the road. If that little encounter was setting the standard, maybe it would be better to stick to the shadows. Killian quickened his pace a bit, turning back a few times to spy the little beast watching him. Talk about strange, he thought as his feet plodded on the ground at a new speed until he met the dreary gates of Hades' land.
"Demon," a voice croaked from just behind the chains crisscrossed on the iron bars. "You have business here?"
The man with the inquiry was definitely old and quite possibly enslaved as he held close to a wooden staff. His shroud was torn and the hood dropped down over his eyes, a pair that Killian was certain were filled with regretful darkness. He swiped his slightly damp hair off his forehead before landing a stubborn glare on the guard.
"Just need to pick something up," Killian offered vaguely. "Won't take long."
"Does he know you're here?"
The man didn't have to be specified - it was obvious that the moniker not being muttered was that of the god who ruled this realm. Hades had always been elusive, not making himself known to many. In his previous life, Killian had heard legend of the lord of the Underworld - a fallen deity who was more sympathetic than the devil but had a vengeful mind and a cold manner of dealing with the deceased. Hades never acknowledged the fact that a fairly undead man had been wandering in his dark realm for years now, but he had to know Killian was there. Perhaps he didn't care - or perhaps there was a reason for his silence. The constant droning of years had shown Killian that wondering wasn't productive so he shook the thought off quickly before snapping his attention back to the soul at the gate.
"I've been here before," Killian explained, resting his hands on the bars. "I doubt he'll mind."
"Well, enter at your own risk, spirit," the man mumbled. "The damned are not always so welcome when it comes to Hades' grounds."
"Good thing I'm merely one of the departed then," Killian snapped back, pushing the entrance forward as it squeaked. "I'll take my chances."
The guard turned and wandered off into the misty fog that hovered low on the cinder covered ground. Killian felt his defenses lower slightly as he moved past the fencing and into the boundaries not traversed by many. It didn't matter - he'd be out of sight before anyone could ever say the word 'trespasser'.
The River Acheron wasn't known well by most, but Killian had stumbled upon it his second time inside the godly gates. It wasn't deep but rather swampy and concealed by the disillusioning haze that lingered above the steamy water. The current was often loud, the murky water hitting hard against a boulder where it crossed streams with the River Styx. He'd learned to avoid the shoreline, learning long ago that the waves were unforgiving as they tempted you with senseless memories from the life you'd lost.
Then you're going to have to answer life's big question - what kind of man are you going to be?
I fight my enemies, but I fight fair.
He's my brother. He's all I have left.
He wished desperately that he could make sense of it all. Killian tried to quell the hurt threatening to fill his senses as he stomped along the riverbank. He knew that black reeds grew near the water's edge and he wondered how difficult it would be to pull them from the somewhat pliable soil. They might be just what he needed to complete a little project he'd been contemplating for a while now. His eye caught sight of one close enough to avoid the river's pull and took a deep breath before tiptoeing toward it. His fingers had barely closed around it when his eyes flickered upward toward something brighter - something that was very, very out of place.
Killian blinked hard as he narrowed his gaze and stepped back to a safer spot. He was almost sure he was imagining it - he had to be. He turned fast, moving up the rocky riverside to a small overhang. As he felt his cloak drag along the ground, he stepped to the edge of the hidden lookout spot. His hand held him steady as it gripped a small boulder and his mouth fell open in awe. This wasn't a trick. It wasn't a hallucination. It was real - or rather she was real.
She was there. There was a woman - or perhaps an angel. He was having a hard time distinguishing which was more plausible.
As he squinted the short distance up the side of the screaming ripples of water to get a better view of her, his heart racing in his chest as he watched her. She was slender, her legs clad in dark pants that seemed to highlight her fit figure. Her arms and shoulders were bare, their pure paleness emphasized by her gray tank top. Her boots were black and knee high, something Killian noted might serve her well if she was here to stay….though it's likely she wasn't - was she?
She spun around after a moment, her long wavy blond hair falling on her shoulders in tangles that probably would look stunning under the bright daylight the Underworld lacked. Her expression should have been terrified. She should have been frantic. Yet as Killian caught the slightest look at her face, he took note of two things - she was absolutely beautiful and she was one hundred percent annoyed. Watching her swat at the slight sheen of smoke in the air as she sighed in obvious aggravation, Killian smiled subtly while drawing a conclusion he hadn't in a very long time.
This day was definitely not going to be the same.