Once upon a time, in a faraway kingdom, there lived a king and queen, who were madly in love and as happy as could be. The king had the kindest of blue eyes, known throughout the realms for his modesty and bravery. The queen was undoubtedly the fairest of all the lands, with hair as black as ebony, skin as white as snow, and lips as red as the petals of a newly bloomed rose, remembered not only for her beauty, but for her compassion. Together, under their tightly clasped hands, the kingdom thrived.
When the royal couple gave birth to a lovely daughter, it was a day of festivities, a day for celebration. They named her Emma, a name which meant "universal," in hopes that she would grow up not only to be beautiful and graceful, but to become the people's leader, a friend for all. She had hair as golden as the sun and eyes the same beautiful shade of green as her mother's. She had her father's courage, her mother's benevolence.
On the eve of her tenth birthday, the entire castle was enveloped in purple smoke. A woman dressed completely in black emerged from the thick mist, a woman by the name of Regina Mills. Veiled with hatred that she was holding onto for something the queen had done as a little girl, she had gone in search of the Dark One, the most powerful man in all the realms. With a curse given to her in exchange for her father's life, she tore apart the royal family. She forcefully gained control over the entire kingdom and imprisoned Emma Swan, locking her up in the highest tower, where she would live for years to come. Not a single soul knew what became of the king and queen, dear Charming and Snow White. To even speak their names became a felony.
The forest began to shrivel up, its plush greenery withering into twisted black branches. The people suffered and starved, too afraid to rebel or to even speak out. The birds stopped singing. Happiness had been ripped from the kingdom.
And thus, our story begins.
A ship rocks softly in the middle of the sea, its sails flapping loudly in the howling wind, the waves lapping at the wooden exterior. The deck is empty, for all the crew members have gone inside to get some shut-eye. The only source of light for miles and miles comes from a candle that burns inside the captain's cabin, which is occupied by one man and the only woman on board.
The man stares at the sleeping woman beside him, gazing at her dark curls splayed over his pillow, her chest moving slowly up and down in harmony with her breath. He uses a thumb to graze her lips and caress her cheeks. The rings on his finger are cool on her face, and she stirs slightly.
Stifling a yawn, she turns toward him. When their eyes meet, her face melts into a soft smile. She reaches her hand up toward his cheek and murmurs his name. "Killian."
He grabs her hand and holds it to his lips. "Milah. Go back to sleep."
She shakes her head and rolls over suddenly so that she is on top of him, her legs on either side of his torso. Her eyes are still misty with drowsiness, but her voice is alive, teasing. "Make me."
He raises an eyebrow and his lips tug into a devilish grin. "Is that a challenge, my love?"
She leans down to run her lips against his neck, his throat, his jaw. He moans slightly and struggles to keep his voice steady, "You know I love a challenge."
"Mhmm," she murmurs against his temple, her warm breath fluttering into his dark hair, as she begins to unbutton his vest.
Suddenly, a dark purple cloud appears from nowhere and seems to fill the entirety of the small cabin. The flame of the candle flickers precariously, forming terrifying shadows on the wooden walls. Startled, Milah falls back onto the bed, away from Killian. Her eyes widen in confusion and she coughs, waving the air in front of her.
A silhouette of a shaggy haired and thin man emerges from amidst the colored fumes. A mocking and sinister laugh seems to reverberate and bounce off of every surface, sending chills running up and down Killian's spine.
"Sorry for interrupting." The voice is nasally and high-pitched, colored with dripping sarcasm.
The purple clouds vanish as suddenly as they had appeared. The man now standing in front of them has the appearance of a human, and yet...
His hair is stringy and unkempt, his eyes a sinister brown tinged with an almost bloodthirsty red. His skin is scaly and bumpy, like that of a reptile's.
"Rumple?" Milah gasps and her hand flutters to her mouth. "What happened to you?"
Killian looks back and forth between the two. He shakes his head in utter disbelief and confusion, before focusing his gaze on their uninvited guest. "Who the bloody hell are you?"
"Sorry, dearie, where are my manners?" The man titters slightly, bouncing on the balls of his feet in delight, before bowing theatrically. "R-r-r-r-rumpelstiltskin!"
Killian turns to Milah incredulously. "You know this...crocodile?"
She nods, avoiding his eyes all the while. She swallows hard. "He's my...he wasmy..."
"I am her husband." Rumpelstiltskin widens his eyes in mock delight and sings, "Or as the entire kingdom knows me now, the Dark One."
"Why are you here?" Killian asks cautiously, his voice a low growl. His face hardens. Even at sea, he had heard rumors of the Dark One and the misadventures that befell those who ever disobeyed him. He throws his legs over the bed and gets up to stand on his feet.
"I'm here to take my wife back," the crocodile states his business simply.
"Take her back," Killian echoes him in incredulity, his voice colored with a blatant mixture of disbelief and amusement. His eyebrows shoot up into his hairline.
"Yes, dearie. You see, I was enlisted in the army and I came back when I - ah - injured myself." He points toward his foot and sneers, revealing a row of yellowed and rotting teeth. "But when I returned and opened the door to our home, expecting to see my wife, well, all that was left behind was a note."
He pauses and jumps slightly, sarcastically pointing a finger up, as if he had just had an epiphany. "That's when you stole her! So now I plan to take her back."
Killian places his hand on the hilt of his sword and hisses, "Over my dead body."
"Oooh," Rumpelstiltskin coos in mock admiration. He waggles his fingers in delight. "So brave. But so naive."
The sound of scraping metal echoes in the room as Killian brandishes his sword and lunges forward. His brows knit when he finds the sword has failed to meet its target, piercing instead, through purple mist, exactly where the monster had stood mere seconds ago. Taken aback, he turns around, where Rumpelstiltskin is now standing with a knife at Milah's throat.
"How...?" Killian gapes and then immediately shuts his mouth. He straightens up. Between clenched teeth, he spits, "Let her go."
"Drop the sword first, dearie."
Hesitating for only a second, he lets the hilt of the sword fall through his fingers. It clatters to the ground.
"I take her with me, or she dies." Rumpelstiltskin giggles menacingly at his victory, for he knows that Killian will do anything to keep her alive.
"So if you can't have her, nobody can. Is that what you want, crocodile?" Killian's eyes shine with anger, yet his blue eyes are icy. He scoffs bravely and points with the end of his sword. "You're a coward."
Rumpelstiltskin widens his eyes. He gestures questioningly toward his own ear, though he clearly heard what Killian has just said. "Pardon?"
"I said you're a coward," he repeats, his voice hard and steady, growing louder. "If you love something, you fight for it. So fight me...coward."
"No."
The voice does not come from Rumpelstiltskin, but from Milah. Both men whirl around to face her.
"Killian, don't do it." She has tears swimming in her eyes and she is biting her bottom lip to keep it from trembling. She turns to her husband reluctantly. "If I go with you, will you promise me that Killian stays alive?"
Rumpelstiltskin sighs dramatically and he gestures with a ridiculous flourish. "If he must."
"Then I'll go." She struggles to keep her voice steady.
"Excellent. Then it's a deal," exclaims Rumpelstiltskin. He waves his hand in the air, and purple clouds start to appear again at their feet.
"Milah, no!" Killian cries.
As the two begin to disappear behind a cloud of dark mist, he rushes to plunge his sword deep into Rumpelstiltskin's stomach.
The crocodile begins to laugh, and the violet fog seems to vanish temporarily. "You think that can defeat the Dark One?"
Killian's voice is shaking with anger, escaping through painfully clenched teeth. "I will defeat you, even if I have to do it singlehandedly."
"Singlehandedly, dearie?" Without a warning, Rumpelstiltskin takes the sword out of his stomach without so much as an expression of pain, and immediately swings the blade toward Killian so that it slices his hand off. Killian drops to his knees, crying in pain and cradling his bleeding stump of a wrist toward his body. The crocodile sneers mockingly, "Good luck with that."
And with one final giggle, the coward disappears, taking Killian's love with him.
For one second, it is dead silent. Even the wind has ceased to rattle the windows, the waves have stopped hitting against the ship. Killian sits on the floor, his eyes distant, looking, but not seeing. Blood is still squirting out of his arm where his hand should be and has begun to puddle in a dark red mess on the floor.
Roaring angrily, he lunges suddenly toward his desk and violently sweeps his arm across the surface, knocking books and maps and parchment to the floor. He rips the sheets from his mattress and throws them to the floor, stains of red streaking the white fabric. He grabs his sword from the floor and swings it wildly into the wooden post in the room. The rope that had been wrapped tightly around it unravels so that a curved metal object falls to the ground. The sudden noise seems to wake Hook from his caprice.
He exhales slowly and walks toward the hook, bending slightly to pick it up. He holds it at an angle so that the candlelight hits it, making it glow a mysterious gold color. Raising an eyebrow, he places it near his freshly amputated arm, as if it is his hand. He decides against discarding of the object and instead, pockets it.
When he does so, he reaches his right hand into the pocket of his coat, and his fingers hit a cold and round object. He pulls it out and stares at it, rotating it slightly. He watches the needle move ever so slightly in between the E and S.
He looks up, his eyes empty and yet vengeful, and glances out of the window, toward the sea. He murmurs, "I willfind you, crocodile. And I will take back what is mine."
It is quiet. It has been quiet for years.
Emma stares out of the small window, her pathetic and only access to the outside world. She lives in the topmost room of the tower, and though it feels like a prison, it is quite well furnished. She has a feathered bed, a desk and stool, and plenty of parchment and quills to keep her busy. Regina was evil, but she wasn't completely heartless.
Ah. She finally hears it: the sound of metal scraping as the guard pushes her plate of food in from under the door. It's time. She waits until she can no longer hear the sound of his footsteps and then lifts her mattress cautiously to pull out a long nail from under it. She had found it the other day, perched on the ledge outside of her window, as if placed there by magic.
It is curious, but she isn't about to question how it had gotten there. That doesn't matter.
She approaches the metal bars of her door and looks around carefully before grabbing the thick lock from the outside. She sticks the nail into the keyhole and begins to pick at it, moving it this way and that. She grins in satisfaction when the lock finally clicks. With one more glance down toward the end of the hallway, she quickly opens the door and squeezes out. Emma runs down the long and winded staircase on bare feet as quietly as she can, thanking Regina internally for giving the guards leisure during their lunch break. When she reaches the main area of the castle, she begins to make her way to the large doors. She can almost smell freedom.
But suddenly she hears a curious sound, a whoosh, something that sounds like a strong wind. Then two pairs of voices. Emma frowns in confusion. She could have sworn nobody had been standing there before.
When she hears the voices approach her, she immediately throws her body against the nearest stone wall in an attempt to hide.
"It's been a while." Emma inhales sharply as she recognizes Regina,the Evil Queen.
"Why yes, dearie, it certainly has. Are you enjoying your...power?" This voice is high-pitched and teasing, but something underlaying his mocking tones raises goosebumps on Emma's forearms. She shudders slightly and cranes her neck in order to hear the conversation better.
Regina pointedly ignores his question. "This curse will continue to work, correct?"
"Correct. But remember," he sings, "you will be the most powerful in all the land, so long as there are no birds."
"Whatever that means," Regina mutters under her breath. She clears her throat and says with confidence, "I have ordered for the mass killing of all birds in the kingdom. There are no such vile creatures anywhere near my land."
Oh, so that partly explains the silence.
The man laughs. "Ahh, yes."
"And Snow White? How is she doing?" Her voice shows very little concern, as if she is asking about the weather. When Emma hears this question, she straightens up, her heart jumping to her throat.
"Dead, so to speak," he replies in a matter-of-fact tone. Emma throws a hand over her mouth to bury the sound of her wrangled sob. He continues, "Didn't they have a daughter?"
"Yes," Regina sounds cautious.
"And how is she?"
"I could care less about the wretched girl."
"Ah. Such love you carry in your heart," he titters.
That is all Emma hears. It is all she can hear, because the sound of her heartbeat races in her eardrums, echoing, hollow. She becomes deaf to every noise, but the one that comes from her chest.
This man knows what has happened to her family. This man was the reason for the brokenness in her life, the separation from her family, her isolation. Revenge clouds over her green eyes, giving her a violent expression that seems uncharacteristic on her soft features.
She tiptoes closer to the wall so that when she pokes her head out, she can see the two people for the first time. But as she does so, she is too late. She can only see the man's disappearing silhouette behind a thick cloud of dark violet smoke.
Wiping a stray tear from her cheek, Emma breathes deeply and pulls her hood up over her head. She begins to walk toward the doors.
"It's Emma! Seize her!" Regina sounds angry, yet her voice seems faraway, distant.
Emma picks up the front of her dress and begins to run, running until she feels as if her ribs will pierce through her skin. When she reaches the large wooden doors, she inhales sharply, and pushes. Fresh air hits her face and she steps out onto grass for the first time in as many years as she can remember. But this is not the time nor the place for nostalgia. She can hear the guards running behind her, their metal armor clinking ridiculously.
Emma begins to sprint toward the bridge that leads to the outside of the castle, outside of her prison, a place that she can no longer call home.
She continues running until she reaches the once-enchanted forest. Gasping for breath, she leans against a gnarly and charcoal-colored tree, gulping the air frantically and clutching at her aching sides. She looks back once, and when she sees that no one else has come this far, closes her eyes in relief.
She slides down the tree slowly, until she is sitting on the muddy ground. Her chest feels heavy, as if something is stuck. She begins to pound her fist against her heart, but the tears don't come.
When she realized that her parents were dead, her spectrum of emotion, along with her capacity to love and hope, had been deeply scarred.
Emma's hand flutters to a thin gold string around her neck, from which a small charm hangs. A charm that her parents had given to her for her 10th birthday, the night before everything had gone horribly wrong. She closes her eyes and sees herself behind lidded eyes. She is wearing a white gown that looks as if has been made out of swan's feathers. Her parents are before her, bending down so that they are looking up at her. Her mother places something into the palm of her tiny hand.
"A compass, Mama?"
"So that you may find us wherever you are, if ever you are lost. Because if there's one thing I know for sure, it is that love and family will always find each other."
Emma opens her eyes.
Though she has no idea where she is going, she is sure of one thing. She will find the man with the curse, and she will avenge him if it is the last thing she does. For her family. For herself.
And so ends the first chapter in this tale of two lost hearts.
Miles away sits a shaggy haired man at a cottage, a wooden cane resting at his feet, staring incessantly at a pair of dolls which are perched on his dresser. A man whose powers have yet to be challenged.
The abandoned princess flies down from the highest tower and a one-handed pirate sails from the seas, both in search for this man, in risk of much.
Yet, when a person has lost so much, what more can they possibly lose?
This is a tale of a once upon a time. As for happily ever after? Why, you'll just have to wait and see.