Chapter Four

The sword swung down, and his hand disappeared behind it. He could see her through the pain. Her green eyes staring at him while he tried not to cry out.

Killian awoke suddenly, finding himself drenched in sweat. He shook himself out of his comforter, sitting on the edge of his bed, trying to calm his breathing while his heartbeat steadied itself. His stump was still bandaged and held in a sling. It was healed, but Killian could bring himself to look at it. The nightmares were frequent, and he was glad there were no nurses here anymore to hear him scream at night.

Looking out of his window, he saw the sun just breaking over the horizon. It was barely daybreak, and Killian found it tempting to find his rum, and drink it until he fell asleep again. It helped with the nightmares for sure. But it's what he had done for a couple weeks now. He had hardly left his bed for almost two months, and he knew his brother was starting to worry. Sighing to himself, Killian walked to his closet to dress himself for the first time since he got back. Since before he left Misthaven to be exact, but Killian could let his thought drift back there. He would just find himself back in his bad again.

Picking out a simple outfit, Killian headed back to his bed, and lay the clothes down on it. He pulled the sling off of his shoulder, and threw it onto his bedside table. Getting himself dressed proved to be a little difficult without his right hand. Of course he was already pretty skilled with his left hand, having had to use it a lot while he stole. Picking locks and such definitely called for a bit of use from it, so buttoning up his vest was no problem. But his belt took a few tries. He clenched his teeth in frustration, almost giving up and going back to bed, but he knew he needed a reason to get out of bed every morning, and getting dressed is a big step.

Finally getting the belt buckled, Killian grabbed the sling from his bed side, and tried to tie it around himself again, but it was useless. Throwing it back down, he wandered over to his desk. He sat down, pulled out some paper, and a quill. He had trouble opening the ink bottle, so he had to use his teeth as well as his hand to get it open. It took a few tries, but he was positive with practice, it will be easy enough. Killian put the quill to the page, slowly writing his name. His handwriting wasn't the best, but he knew with practice that too would get better. At least he could write, and it was readable. Propping open a book, he decided to copy a page, but this proved frustrating. Every time he wrote something, his hand would smudge it while it sped across the paper.

Flinging the quill down, he ran his hand through his hair. Looking out the window in front of him, he watched the sun rise higher in the sky, until he was sick of sitting there. Getting up, he walked over to his dresser, and found some of his rum. Sitting it bed, he sipped at it, trying to keep the monsters away, but failing. When he finally felt the alcohol buzzing nicely in his head, he lay back down, and let sleep consume him once again.

Every morning Killian does it again. Gets out of bed, gets dressed, and practices his handwriting, before going back to bed. He never leaves his room, and hardly eats anything that is sent to him.

A few weeks later, while he was sitting at his desk writing, he heard a knock on the door. He called for them to enter without moving from his position. The door creaked open softly, and Killian turned to see who it was. It was the tailor.

"What are you doing here?" Killian asked.

"I've come to fit you for some new dinner clothes." He answered, quickly walking in, and shutting the door behind him.

"I don't need new dinner clothes." Killian said between his teeth. He hated fittings.

"His Royal Highness has ordered for you to be fitted for some new dinner clothes. He expects you to dinner tonight." The tailor grabbed the stool from the corner on the room, and pulled Killian's hand until he followed him, and stepped on the stool.

"What's wrong with the dinner clothes I have?" Killian groaned, and the tailor started taking measurement.

"I daresay those would hardly fit you now. You've lost so much weight since you've basically starved yourself. And also… there's your hand to take into account."

Killian didn't reply to that. He just stared forward, not making eye contact.

"You know the word around the kingdom is that you are trying to starve yourself to death. No one believes that you want to live anymore. Your brother, the King, is very intent on not letting that happen. He believes a big step it to start leaving your bedchamber."

Killian looked at his tailor for a few moments, but then tore his eyes away from him.

"Well, I can take these measurements with me for now. You should have your dinner clothes ready within the next couple weeks."

"Please take your time. I'm in no rush." Killian said, voice dripping with sarcasm. The tailor left the room. Killian bitterly, got back in bed, grabbing his rum from his bedside table.

A couple weeks later, his dinner jacket was delivered for him. He put it on, begrudgingly, and head to the dinner hall. When he walked in, everyone turned to look at him, staring at his bandaged arm. Killian stared back uncertainly, hating the looks on their faces. He saw his brother, and Liam looked so happy to see him, that Killian decided that it was worth it to come.

Killian walked to the table, where he was seated by one of the servants. The talk around him was very hushed, and everyone seems to be walking on eggshells around him, not wanting to say anything that will upset him. They talk about useless gossip, the weather, and the harvest. That's it. Killian doesn't participate.

When the courses arrive, Killian can't eat the meat, because he can't cut it. The servants come over and cut it into small bites for him, and Killian sits back in his chair, feeling for all the earth like he's a toddler who can't chew properly. When the servants back away, leaving his plate ready for him, Killian looks around, daring anyone to laugh, but they don't. No one dares even to even look him in the eyes. He eats quickly, and leaves as soon as he can.

After a couple days of dinners like this, Killian doesn't showing up. Liam goes to visit him afterwards. Killian is sitting up in his bed, dressed and ready to go. He's staring out the window, and when Liam enters the room, Killian looks at him, face impassive.

"I couldn't bare it again. I already know that the harvest is good, and the weather has been fine. What's the point?" Killian asks, putting his rum to his mouth, and taking a swig.

"Killian, I'm sorry. I don't want to force you to do anything. But I hate to see you shut up in this room day after day. At least consider coming to dinner once a week." Liam pleaded.

"Once a week? Aye. I think I can do that."

In Misthaven, Emma sat alone in her throne room, slowly tracing the patterns in the arm of her chair. She heard the doors open from across the room, and looked up to see the captain of her guard, August, coming forward. He knelt in front of her throne, and Emma beckoned him closer.

"What news do you have about the Thief?" She asked, her eyes once again focused on her hands tracing the arm of her throne.

"There hasn't been much information. Your scouts in Mesa say that he appears at dinner once a week. He doesn't seem at all interested in the political situation. The nights he attends dinner, no one talks about it." August answered. As he finished, his eyes shot up and focused on behind Emma. Emma looked up, seeing where his eyes led, and looked behind her.

Nathaniel walked from behind her throne. Stepping in front of August, he sat in front of Emma taking her hand and kissing it. "Your majesty looks beautiful tonight."

Emma smiled down at him, taking her hand back slowly. "Thank you Nathaniel. Will you have a seat?" Emma gestured to the seat next to her, which Nathaniel sat in.

Emma turned her attention back to August, who was looking at Nathaniel from the corner of his eye. "What is his title now? How is he addressed?"

"I'm not sure, your Majesty."

"How does the King address him as?" Emma asked quickly.

"I believe his brother still referred to him as Thief." August replied.

"Why should that matter? He only has one hand." Nathaniel cut in. Emma glanced at him briefly.

"His brain is still intact, and he's as clever as they come." Emma explained.

"You talk like you know him, my dear Queen." Nathaniel said.

"I used to." Emma said softly. "Our families weren't close, but we were acquainted in our youth. I guess I never knew him really well, but I knew him enough to know he prided himself on his quick wit. He once told me that so long as his brain was okay, he could make lasting damage on anyone that threatened him."

"You could have just killed him." Nathaniel noted.

"Yes I could've. But this has been much more satisfying." Emma smiled. Nathaniel smiled back at her. Of course she was lying. At night she dreams about him. Dreams about his face right after she took his hand. All white and full of pain.

Emma turned to August, who was staring at her, waiting for orders.

"You're excused August." August nodded, bowing low, before he walked to the doors. Just before he opened them, Emma called back after him. "Wait one second, August."

August turned to look at his Queen. She gave a simple order. "Get it done." August nodded and left the room. Get it done. Find out how Nathaniel got into her throne room without being announced.

Nathaniel headed back into his chambers, where his manservant, Tim sat waiting for him with a letter. Nathaniel took it from him, and sat down at his desk, reading over the words carefully. Tim poured him a glass of water, while he read. Nathaniel finished the letter, and took the glass, gulping it down fast.

"Who is it from, milord?"

"It's from Queen Regina. She's asking about the gold she's sent to the barbarian queen. She wants to know if we've struck a deal for an alliance yet." Nathaniel answered. "It seems a bit hasty of her, to be sure. Mostly likely because she knows how useful Emma can be. With her magic, the two of them could be unstoppable. But if she decided not to, why she could make a very dangerous enemy."

"Do you think she'll ally with our Queen?" Tim asked.

"I'm confident in my abilities." Nathaniel smirked. "She is very beautiful, don't you think Tim?"

Tim swallowed hard, "W…well…I… of course. No one…could deny her beauty, milord."

"Indeed. She's a very beautiful woman, and sufficiently simple. She's very easily led." Nathaniel remarked, licking his lips in thought.

"Well, milord, she has had control of the country for years, and has handled it well. Her barons are afraid of her for sure, but the people have her loyalty." Tim said.

"Well yes. Her barons are afraid that she'll rip out their hearts at the first sign of an uprising. And she has the loyalty of her people because of her parents. She has handled the politics very well, I'll admit. But she's very young still, and I think I'm right in saying that all that has been the work of her advisors. Not so much of her. I daresay she'll be looking for another, especially with the war that she's found herself in." Nathaniel grinned.

"You're hoping she'll choose you to be her advisor." Tim asked.

"Yes, for now. I am the richest ambassador in her court, that's for sure. But I'm hoping I could be something a lot…closer to her than just that."