Have her eyes gone blue? Definitely paler…

The last time he'd seen them, they'd been green—murky green, danger lurking behind their depths like a Siren's lake, effectively luring him into their trance. And: yes, there'd been sparks of harlequin, too, glints shimmering there like wildcards, promising irresistibility, delirium…rapture beyond the very end of the world.

Alas, that was before; now, those eyes appear to have been invaded. As if the siren inside had lost vigour—abandoned ship—and the neglected lake froze from gusting gales. No sign of life remains on the sheets of ice that now glare right at him. None at all! Absurd as it is, that such a thing could exist—that such an intriguing land could be plagued like that!—he has more, ah, pressing matters at hand, at the moment. Such as the fingers pressing into his heart.

He must admit, this isn't the first time he'd been plunged into such a situation as this: A Crocodile and a literal Queen of Hearts had both enjoyed sinking their hands and grabbing such a jewel—one, which, of the many treasures he'd swept within his possession, he's always been most fond of, lest he die—but both such fiends directed their nasty tempers elsewhere, before lasting damage was done. Now, third time running, this action has actually become quite acquainted with him; so, he believes, will the mercy of his heart—well, figuratively, this, mercy, is less than a stranger…a positive enemy, with his life, with everyone he lost—albeit if he plays it, ah, cool, then Swan would spare him.

"I bear you no harm, Miss Swan: my journey to Storybrooke was simply so that I could return to my realm. I desire in no way to interrupt your…" What, exactly? Some sort of—charade? A very bizarre turn of events, in all honestly. Hmm, let's see… So, New York. Poisoned Crocodile. Then she knocked him out; the bruise is still throbbing, next to its older sibling, of which Emma had also bestowed him with back at Lake Nostos. Of course, they took The Jolly Roger—indeed, he is proud of captaining the fastest ship in all the realms, once belonging to The Royal Navy, later being, several times, enchanted from various stolen goods to increase her stamina and therefore she tends to be targeted often for her gift. They took his ship instead of one of those loud contraptions, but they obviously had to, trying to save the Crocodile.

And then, that's it. No hide nor scaly shred of skin was to reach his ears; he didn't get to see the Crocodile die, watch him suffer agonizingly—bloody hell, he didn't even know if the creature was even dead! All because of Emma bloody buggering Swan. But now? The woman's ready to kill him on the spot (not hugely unusual for her standards), but there doesn't appear to be any apparent reason for her to do so, right now, while he had simply been in pursuit of his beloved ship; making sure the Crocodile is dead would come later. Perhaps…perhaps she expects him to go straight after Gold? Well, it is a common trait for a pirate to get his gold, so maybe her actions are rather justified—especially given her Saviour status.

"You lie." Well, not exactly…

"Ah, right—your superpower! How could I forget?" Teeth bared, she moves slightly closer to him; he can't help but notice that the distance between their lips is scarce, and, briefly, an image of leaning forward to close that very distance rolls in his mind—probably a bad idea, considering how she's more likely to sink her teeth into his flesh rather than respond passionately. So pick-up lines probably won't work, then. He has a nasty feeling that will simply be a trigger for her to crush his heart to cinder, right here, right now.

"Gold's dead, Hook." There should be something of this news—joy, thrill, exhilaration that Milah is finally avenged—but there's only an empty acceptance. Crimson lips curl into a smirk, a rather foreboding one. "But not by your hands—excuse me—by your hook."

Not…by my hands?

"What?" It's not a croak—nor is it a demand. His voice doesn't, in any form or way, betray emotion. Just a skeleton. She chuckles; a velvety sound that leaves a ringing in his ears, a dizziness to his head.

"I killed him, Hook. See, like you, he was wreaking too much havoc in my town…and no jail cell would keep the bastard put. In fact, everything loops back to Gold—the curse itself, the misery of my entire family…"

"But that means—" Bloody hell! "Emma, are you the—"

"Dark One?" She chuckles darkly. "Yes."

The Saviour is the Dark One.

The delightfully fiery woman he first met is now an ice-cold demon.

What the bloody hell did he miss?