Maze | Part II
Chapter One: Cathatores
A/N: Hehe, I see you all enjoyed the little twist in the story! But don't worry, true love always finds a way back to each other. However, on a sad note, this is the last time I can post before school begins again which means there will be greater gaps between chapters.
Side Note: As I have been asked, this new world's time frame isn't exactly designated as it is a different world but it has a late 1800s, early 1900s feel to it.
All changed, changed utterly:
A terrible beauty is born.
William Butler Yeats, "Easter, 1916"
"They are ready to be placed into their new lives. We have edited the population's memory, they will never know that Mr Jones and Miss Swan never lived here until today. It will be effortless."
"Perfect."
The bright sun dipped over the snow kissed mountains and spread down its slope into the valley where the sleeping city of Cathatores lay. A fresh autumn breeze whistled down the narrow streets of the East Side and then out into the open courtyards of the West Side. In a bedroom, over one of the more popular taverns of the East Side, ribbons of sunlight cut through the gap where the curtains almost met and fell upon the sleeping face of Killian Jones. His face scrunched up as the sun pricked at his eyelids, drawing him reluctantly from his sleep. He groaned as he resurfaced, a sharp headache pulsed at his temples.
He hauled himself up and leaned against the wooden headboard of his bed as his mattress creaked underneath him. He blearily pushed his messy hair out of his eyes and relished the moment when the cool breeze swam through his open window and momentarily cooled him.
Someone knocked on the door and he winced. "Yeah?" he asked, trying to sound nonchalant but he probably just sounded grumpy.
A man's face poked out behind the door, grinning teasingly as he slid into the room. "I come bearing gifts, m'lord," he mocked. Enjoying the unamused look Killian shot him as he begrudgingly accepted the bowl of soup and glass of water his friend had offered him.
"You enjoy his way to much, Samuels," Killian grumbled, taking a hearty spoonful of the steaming soup.
Finn Samuels was the owner of the Wayward Dragon, the tavern in which Killian lived when he was not at sea as one of Cathatores' finest navel captains. And as well as being his landlord, Finn was also his best friend.
Killian's mother had died of influenza but he had been so young all he could remember of her was her shocking blue eyes. Then when he was eleven, his father, who had always had too soft a heart, died of a heart attack. This was when the red-haired Samuels family stepped in and adopted him as their second son. Though Aoife and Eric Samuels could never replace the parents he'd lost, they never needed to. They were parents to him in their own way and he loved them all the same for it.
"Why shouldn't I?" Finn asked, dropping down to sit at the end of his bed. "You do make quite the show and dance of it."
Killian wanted to rip that dopey grin off of Finn's face but despite his best efforts, he was grinning back. "How was I last night?" he inquired before taking a leisurely sip of his water.
Finn shrugged, "The usual, you flirted ridiculously with any woman who breathed within your perimeter." He paused to sigh dramatically. "And yet you remain the old maid you've always been."
Killian was tempted to throw a pillow at him but he was enjoying his soup too much to risk jostling it. "Easy for you to say, you just got married a couple of months ago."
"Maaybe if you just put yourself out there, you might find the one," Finn said in a sing-song voice.
He snorted, "You're going soft Samuels. What's that woman done to you?"
His friend rolled his eyes. "Whatever, Jones. But as we're speaking of 'getting out there' I need you to meet with a client tonight."
"And here I thought you were being kind because you actually like me. Darn."
Finn ignored him as he continued, "It's nothing special. Just an wealthy man from Dragohdore who might or might not want to invest in the tavern."
Killian shrugged, "Sure, why not. God knows I'm better looking than you."
Once again, his comment was ignored. "Harthorn has a big ball on tonight and since you're one of the Navy Captains, you're invited. The client will be meeting you there at midnight-"
"This sounds awfully like the beginning of a love story."
"Well if you swing that way, Killian, I'd be more than happy to be your best man."
Killian glared at him. "What's the name of the client?"
"Phillip J Gardner," Finn said, "Son of Henry and Elizabeth Gardner."
He raised an eyebrow, "As in the Henry Gardner, owner of Gardner's wine factory?"
The redhead's eyes sparkled, "The very one."
"Nothing special my arse."
"Well if you're lucky he might fall in love with those ocean blue eyes that shine like the moon when it's full and when the clock strikes twelve you'll-"
Finn was cut off by a pillow roughly hitting him in the face.
Killian inspected himself in the full length mirror which stood in the corner of his room as he pinned his badges onto his uniform. As per Cathatores tradition, those higher up in the army and navy, only wore their badges and heavily done up uniforms for traditional occasions so when they were seen in these uniforms, they were especially impressive. They had another uniform, of course, which was more ready to deal with the wear and tear of war that they wore in action, but only those lower down in the force wore those to formal occasions.
Though Killian enjoyed basking in the respect the uniform brought him, it stunk of the West Side and those so rich they could bathe in their money, leaving nothing for those, like himself, who grew up in the East Side. Killian had to work day in and day out to get the position he had but rich men like Harthorn, who only went to war when it suited them, had many glittering badges and often enjoyed pulling out their formal uniforms just to show how great and powerful they were. Killian hated it, they were cowards not heroes. They didn't deserve the respect they bought.
That's why he usually never went to this god forsaken balls Harthorn threw. He wanted to be known for what he did as Captain Jones not the people he unfortunately had to associate with because of his job. However this was important to Finn, so he'd do it for him.
He ran his fingers through his hair, giving himself a final look over. Once he was satisfied that everything was how it should be, he headed down the stairs and into the main section of the tavern where men and woman had already begun piling but then again it was seven o'clock in the evening.
"Looky here, our Killian's got his party dress on," came the mocking voice of the bartender Charlie.
"I'm seeing a client," Killian snapped irritably, "But could you spare me one drink? I doubt they have rum up in the Palace."
With a grunt Charlie poured him some rum and pushed it towards him. Killian quickly drowned it, enjoying the burning sensation that trailed down his mouth. "Mhmm, those rich idiots don't know what their missing," Killian said, giving the bartender a quick nod before making his way out of the tavern.
"And where are you going then?" came an all too familiar voice. He turned and saw Finn's wife leaning against the back wall.
"Business meeting," he explained, "Boring stuff."
"Is that why you've got your party suit on?" she asked, a smile playing on the corner of her lips.
He nodded, "Sadly I'm forced again to interact with the self-consumed idiots Harthorn calls friends."
She laughed, "Well you're in a sunny mood, aren't you?"
"Always am my dearest Mel," he said with a wink, "And though I wish I could stay I should go before I become more than fashionably late."
"Behave yourself!" she called after him as he pushed the door open.
He grinned, "What's the fun in that?" And then he was gone, walking down the cobbled streets in the cool autumn night towards the illuminated mansion (which the citizens had dubbed as the Palace).
"This is going to be a long night," he muttered to himself.
Once Killian was in the heavily marbled Palace he quickly made his way to the bar, avoiding as much small talk as he possibly could. He scanned the room as he sipped his unforgivably expensive champagne to see if there was anyone he could bear having a conversation. With a sigh, he realised there wasn't. It seemed his crew also had little patience for the rich and their parties.
"Well, well, look what the cat dragged in."
Killian turned and came face to face with Vice Admiral Sutherland. "Well I've got to get out sometime haven't I?" Killian asked.
"Yes," Sutherland agreed with a chuckle, "It's almost like I've never seen you before." Killian blinked, clearly missing some sort of joke.
"Do you want some champagne, Vice Admiral?" he offered.
A pause, then- "No, no, Captain. I appreciate the offer but I must get going, I saw Admiral Stephenson and her husband briefly when I came in and I really must catch up."
"Of course," Killian said, who had no interest in sucking up to his superiors.
Sutherland turned to go but just before he let himself get lost in the crowd he turned back to Killian and asked, "Do you know what this party is about, Captain?"
He shook his head, "Can't I say I do."
A smug look came across Sutherland's face momentarily, "Lord Harthorn's getting married to a very beautiful young lady. She'll be making her first public appearance in only a matter of minutes."
"I'll have to offer my congratulations," Killian replied simply, wondering why on earth Sutherland was looking so pleased with himself.
"That you will," the Vice Admiral replied quietly before he left, leaving Killian with his thoughts and –of course– his drink.
Then after a few peaceful minutes, a hush washed over the crowd as every head moved towards the top of the staircase where the elderly Ivan and Isabel Harthorn stood, smiling graciously down at the guests. "As some of you might now, we are holding this ball tonight to celebrate a most magnificent event. My son, Gabriel, is going to be married in the autumn of next year to a truly astounding young woman. And tonight we are going to present to you this woman who has a name as beautiful as she, Miss Emma Swan." He paused, turning to his left. "Emma, dear." He held out his hand and a woman stepped forward.
Killian's bored expression dropped from his face as his gaze fixed itself on her. He felt himself gasp quietly but so did many others so it went unnoticed. She had golden hair, as if it was weaved with sunlight, which fell down her back in bouncy ringlets. Her eyes (though he could not see their colour from this distance) flickered along the crowd nervously but she had a bright smile across her lips. She was wearing a beautiful red dress which only brought the platinum highlights in her hair. But what Killian couldn't understand was the nagging sensation that he knew her. There was a sense of comforting familiarity about her face that felt like coming home.
"You might want to close your mouth, Captain," came a voice beside his ear, smug and victorious. Sutherland.
"Thank you, Vice Admiral," Killian replied tightly, deciding to take a long sip of champagne before he turned back to Miss Swan who was now walking down the stairs, arm tucked neatly in the crook of Gabriel Harthorn's arm. How did a man like that, get a goddess like her? 'She must be dull and stupid then,' a voice snipped in his mind but he couldn't quite believe it as if he knew she was better than that.
Two hours later and the hand had only fallen across half nine but he seemed to be the only one looking at the large brass clock that hung at the end of the hall. He glanced away and back at the guests when he caught sight of golden hair. He got up from his seat and started to make his way towards her, having no idea why he so desperately wanted to see her.
He slipped through the crowd towards the happy couple who were grinning and chatting with each other and a curious sense of jealousy burned at his heart. She saw him first, her bright eyes (which were a dazzling green) focused on him and he watched as she experienced the same odd sensation he had (it seemed he could read her like an open book). Then Harthorn saw him, his eyes at first narrowed but then a smug expression clouded the distaste as if he knew something Killian did not.
"Lord Harthorn," he said politely, dipping into a short bow. "Excellent ball, you must thank your father for me." Sarcasm had slipped dainty into his words but Harthorn seemed unfazed. It was when he turned to Miss Swan that he realised he had been caught as her lips were pursed with irritation. He found himself grinning as he took her gloved hand and kissed it. "And an honour to meet you, Miss Swan."
"This is Captain Jones," Harthorn explained to his fiancée who was still giving him a calculated expression. "It's rare to see him at parties, he more prefers the isolation of the East Side."
"We must never forget our roots," Killian said lightly, ignoring the bait Harthorn was handing him.
"Well we must get going," Harthorn said offhandedly, more to Miss Swan than Killian. "Lots of people to see."
Killian nodded, stepping back to allow them to pass by him. He watched her until she fell out of sight, something tightening in his chest as if she had taken a piece of him with him. He couldn't understand it, he didn't even know her and yet…He sighed and glanced up at the clock again. Only ten minutes had passed.
Jeez, that chapter just wrote itself.
The name Cathatores comes from the Irish word for city 'cathair' and the Latin word for saviours 'salvatores'. Thus it is the 'city of saviours'. Read into that as you will.
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