DAVY JONES
He sunk back into the water, thinking of Killian, and him being close in his grasp after all these years. Of the blond woman who was so confident that even Davy, against reason felt that she might be able to accomplish the task that had alluded him for so long.
Killian. His youngest son.
And thinking of him, made him think of the past.
He was not always so evil, he was a good man once, and he loved those boys in a way that he could then, with a whole and properly beating heart. He was a Captain himself, the lead ship of the kings navy, when the monster attacked him that day, devouring him in a way that left him a shattered piece of his former self.
Once he was an honourable man, and he tried to raise his boys that way.
But that was long ago.
No one understood the pain his body was in, constantly, such deep physical pain as his body rotted around him and decayed, enough to turn the kindest man evil. He lashed out at those around him for his grief, his suffering. He was stuck in this purgatory, this permanent hell.
Only causing pain to others helped briefly release his own. He cared not for them when no one cared for him. He thrived and fed on their terror.
He piloted the ship between life and death, beating and torturing them on the way. None of it stopped the anguish he felt in what was used to be his heart. Black and useless, the only small portion with remaining life, the tiny fraction that still beat red, beat red for them alone.
His motherless children, abandoned on the docks as he sailed away, not understanding he fled for their own protection as his heart deteriorated in his own chest.
He had only one good day in the last 300 years, one day without the constant torture. After ten years of servitude, he had a single day off, and he had seen them, the men that they had become, strong and true, but most importantly together, and it had almost seemed worth it. He had not called out to them, did not want them at that time to see the demon he had become, but watched them from afar, feeling something akin to pride.
And certainly on that one day had he been capable of that.
But 24 hours passed quick and it was back to the hell, turning darker every day in the unjustness of his suffering.
When Liam died before another ten years could pass, before even one more day of peace simply watching them could occur, he felt to selfish to let him go deciding to hold on to him, one of only two sources of his pleasure, hoping he could heal his heart and help him become a better man.
He failed, and continued to lash out at others, rewarded with his own child's hate and contempt for him, watching his own sons suffering.
It turned him more than a little mad, he knew, and he tortured his son in punishment for denying him his love, and Liam bore it all without losing himself in the process. It both angered and pleased him.
Liam thought he heldhim only out of hate and on somedays this was true. But Davy gave him the only thing he could to ease his suffering other than letting him descend into death, his one day every ten years of freedom.
That and his determination to add Killian to the family again, to bring them both some comfort in each other while he selfishly held them prisoner in the depths. In a mind addled by 300 years of chronic anguish, he somehow thought it would stop if they could only be together...
He thought of this Emma, who had failed to ask a critical question.
He thought of Liam standing between them protecting her, when his loyalty should be with him. Hardened against this Emma for the simple fact that Liam felt a bond to her that should have been with him.
With all magic came a price, although he would return this soul to her man in return for Killian, and he fully planned to imprison Killian with Liam, in the world between living and dead. But to return a soul meant sacrificing another soon after, to true death. A life for a life. She had not thought of the price, assuming it was Killian. He would raise this man from the dead, just in time for their eyes to sparkle, to celebrate the joy of returning to each other...He would watch that first embrace...
Then he would crush her before her lovers eyes, stuffing out her life, grinding down her bones, and giving fate the soul it would demand in return.
The grief would be so deep it would alievate his own pain. He could only gleefully imagine the depths of her loves dispair as he survived against all odds only to then lose her to true full death in return. So tragic, it was delicious, he could almost taste it. Feast on it.
He would have chuckled manically, but he was underwater, so that would be ridiculous.
Emma Swan, prepare to die.
And he would have both his sons.
