AN- Feels ahoy. We are doing a deep dive into Killian's past to better understand him so prepare for some heart-wrenching feels. Settle in this is another long one. And it is a fucking filler chapter so just hold on. These chapters are going to be long from now on I guess. Deal with it.
TRIGGER WARNINGS- Graphic displays of torture, grief and brief mentions of attempted suicide.
Dashing Pirate
Chapter Thirteen
He didn't sleep — he couldn't sleep. He had run himself ragged — too lost in thought to finally give himself over to sleep. Everytime he closed his eyes he could hear the cries of a tiny infant and returned each time like a plague on his mind and each time it drew him from his slumber. For several hours on end he had woken up in a cold sweat, gasping for air as fear struck him.
Killian sat up, tugging his knees into his chest as he caught his breath, a shutter rolling through his body. He frustratingly kicked at the sheets, pushing them away from him. How could he possibly sleep with the knowledge that the woman sleeping next to him was most likely carrying his child.
'His child,' he scoffed softly at the thought. He didn't know the first thing about children or about being a father. He had spent his entire life avoiding that very subject — there were very few memories from his childhood that were worth preserving. His father had abandoned his young sons out at sea and sold them into a life of servitude. It has been a cruel fate that had left him — a mere boy fatherless after the loss of their mother.
He didn't know what he would have done without his brother — he had been the only thing in his life that had made sense to him. Liam was the light in the darkness — the only thing that had been worth living for — his entire reason for being. His brother had been his whole world — until he wasn't.
Twelve Years Ago…
Killian grunted as he pushed his elbows into the brush, working it up and down vigorously against the quarterdeck. "This. Stinks." He growled, sitting up on his knees as he threw the brush down with an audible wooden clank.
"Calm down little brother." Liam chided, looking up at him from where he sat on his knees scrubbing the floor. "There is honor in hard work."
"You can't honestly believe that." Killian retorted in frustration, wrinkling his face in distaste for his task. "Where is the honor in scrubbing until my fingers bleed?" He aggressed, looking down at his nails that had been filed down and the callouses littering his fingers.
"Our debt is nearly paid off and once it is, I swear to you that we will have the life we have always deserved — a life of honor." Liam told his younger brother wistfully. "Just try and keep out of trouble, we don't want you adding any more years to your contract." He warned.
"Men like you and I, don't get the life they want. The game is rigged against us." Killian gritted out, believing in the words he spoke. "Our father threw us out like trash. He didn't want us. What makes you think someone else will?" He thought aloud. "I wouldn't let us within twenty feet of a naval ship."
Liam shook his head, plopping his brush into the murky bucket with a long sight and sat up, a hand placed at his hip. "You might not see the good in you Killian, but I do. You've never allowed yourself to have true happiness. You need to stop believing that you aren't worth something. And maybe some worthwhile responsibility in the navy will sort that out—"
"That's your dream. Not mine." Killian shook his head.
"Aye. That is exactly my point. You have no drive. No dignity." Liam provided solemnly. "You need to ask yourself what you want from your life." He told him, his eyes shining with brotherly concern.
"You know what I want?" Killian swept his legs out from underneath him and slowly rose to his feet. "Not to be here scrubbing the bloody floors." He yelled out, gesturing to the floors.
Liam opened and closed his eyes at the admission, listening at the sound of his brother's wet angry footsteps retreat from him. "Oh, Killian." He lamented softly.
Killian huffed, seething in discontent as he kicked over one of the wooden buckets, sending its contents spilling out around them. His eyes narrowed at the bloody diluted sludge that ran across the floorboards as his chest rose and fell with each breath he took. Tearing his eyes away from it, he stepped forward only to be knocked back slightly by a large body.
"And where the hell do you think you're going?" The man asked, shoving his hand into his chest.
Killian tilted his head up to look at the man in challenge, his jaw clenched as he crowded the man before him.
The man chuckled at the underling's fiery display of defiance and shook his head in mirth. The man before him moved forward, wrapping his arm around his back and threw the young deckhand into the mess he had made.
Killian hit the deck with an audible thunk, landing on his belly. He groaned, raising himself up slowly from the putrid smelling slush that now soaked his entire body. He heard the man's boots slip and slide against the deck as he rounded him, his feet coming into view in front of him. He trailed his eyes up the length of the man to see him glowering over him.
Killian's chest rumbled, the blood boiling in his veins as his hand curled into fists against the wood. He could feel the bruise blooming on his cheek — a faint throb. He slammed his eyes shut, his shoulders shaking in anger.
"You know you really ought to be more careful." He crouched down in front of him, tilting his head to the side as he regarded Killian coldly. "A ship can be a very dangerous place." He warned, a smirk teasing his lips.
Killian slammed his fists down against the wooden planks. A thundering roar emanated from his throat as he picked himself up and lunged at the man, knocking him flat onto his back. Hovering over him, Killian placed a knee on either side of his body and began to beat his fists into the man's face.
Several men were drawn to the commotion on deck, each abandoning their tasks to view the violent exchange, including Liam. "Killian!" Liam called out to him in panic and steadily got up onto his feet. "Killian!" He screamed, trying to cut through his brother's veil of fury. "Killian!" Liam stretched his arms out to seize his younger brother by the waist, trying to pry him off of the older man.
"Let go!" Killian snapped violently, fighting against his brother to resume his vengeance.
"No, Killian." Liam begged as he struggled to hold his grip on him. "This isn't who you are." Liam urged him, wrapping his arms around his upper chest, caging him in against his body. "You are not this man!"
Killian grabbed at his brother's arms, his nails digging into his skin as he winced torturously. He began to tremble, a broken sob rising in his lungs as he let a few errant tears fall from his stormy blue eyes. He rocked back into his brother's hold, sagging against his body. With head bowed, he relaxed into Liam's chest, his body wrecked with his silent cries.
"What is the meaning of this!" A harsh voice demanded as it stopped before them, surveying the scene before him. "Who is responsible for all of this?"
The man on the ground coughed, spitting the blood from his mouth as he glared at Killian. The man in charge followed his gaze to meet Killian's face, an obvious look of annoyance on his face. "Jones." He barked out in authority.
"It's going to be okay Killian." Liam assured him, releasing him from his hold and letting his brother stumble forward to address the man who pulled rank over him.
"The younger Jones brother." He shook his head in dismay. "You need to keep your temper in check." He warned. "With this latest transgression, you've left me no choice. You know the cost of fighting aboard this ship… four lashes of the whip should sort you out."
"No!" Liam cried out in distress, rounding his young brother protectively, coming to stand before him, his arms spread out protectively.
"What did you just say?" The man tensed in offense.
"No." Liam sighed resolutely. "Let me take his punishment instead." Liam insisted, narrowing his eyes expectantly.
"No!" Killian's eyes widened in horror as he moved toward his brother in protest.
"Back down Killian, I've got this." He whispered to his brother.
Killian stepped back, watching helplessly as the man in front of them determined their fates.
"And what makes you think you are in any position to make such a request?" He inquired assertively. "A punishment isn't something you can just barder and trade with as you see fit." He spat before leaning to the side to see Killian and gave him a satisfied grin. The man straightened himself, closing the distance between himself and his inferior. "An extra four lashes for your insolence."
"Are you mad? He's but sixteen! You'll kill him!" Liam proclaimed, his eyes wide with fear.
The man's eyes fell upon Killian, who refused to make eye contact with him. He turned back to Liam and asserted the punishment. "If he's old enough to strike a crew member then he's old enough to pay the price for his actions." He said resolutely. "Now, step aside or you'll be joining him."
The man left him, his body grazing Liam's upon his exit. Liam tucked his lower lip into his mouth to stifle his anguished cries before turning around to meet Killian's gaze. "I'm sorry little brother…"
Twelve Years Later...
The early morning sun shone through the windows, the bright light glinting off copper mermaid sconces that adorned the wall. The shining light cast shadows against the floor. If he stared at it long enough he could still see specks of dried blood in between the floorboards. There were just some sins that couldn't be removed by soap, water, and a little elbow grease.
He looked toward Emma, who was still sound asleep — her fingers were curled loosely into her palms and tucked against her cheek as she slept. Sweeping her golden hair over her shoulder, he gazed over her face, his blue eyes dancing over the curve of her lips and the subtle glow in her cheeks.
He had no idea why he hadn't seen it before — all of the signs were becoming painfully obvious in the light of the early morning sun. Her legs were twisted in the sheets, which dipped below her navel. His eyes traced the supple curves of her rounded breasts — they were fuller and more pronounced.
He swallowed the lump in his throat and tilted his head toward the ceiling, mentally berating himself for his blissful unawareness when it came to the woman before him — the woman who may or may not be carrying his child. And to make matter worse — she didn't even know, and if she did, she certainly hadn't brought it to his attention.
He closed his eyes and tried to imagine himself with a squirming infant in his arms — a small human swaddled in a blanket as it made the slightest of sounds from its pink lips. Would it be a daughter with her golden hair and captivating deep green emerald eyes — a son with his ruggedly handsome jaw and his stormy blue eyes?
He couldn't picture it — the foggy vision of her belly swollen with child, her hands caressing her stomach as it was joined by another set of hands covering hers. Her radiant smile was faint and distant — far from his reach — taunting him with something he knew could and never would be.
It was impossible — she couldn't be pregnant.
The entire idea was ludacris. Ordinarily he wasn't the type of pirate that left a piece of himself in every port he visited. He had always been careful, often refusing to spill his seed inside a woman — withdrawing just before he reached the pinnacle of his pleasure and spilling himself across their heaving chests or their backs — sometimes the cleft of their backside.
He didn't make a habit of releasing himself inside a woman — the act far too intimate for his liking. But for some odd reason with her it was different. There was something about her that drew him — that made him want to lose himself inside her. She had awakened the dominant male in him — the one that wanted to claim and possess, assert its ownership. It was so impossibly natural with her that he hadn't even realized until it was too late.
She stirred beside him and slowly flipped around onto her back, opening her beautiful green eyes to see him hovering over her. "Hi." She greeted him with a soft sheepish smile.
Killian breathed out a long exasperated sigh as he managed to crack a thin smile but his inner turmoil was written all over his face.
Emma's face slowly dropped, a question on her lips as she sat up onto her elbows. "What is it?" What's the matter?"
Wincing, he turned away from her, unable to look her directly in the eyes. "
"Killian?" She pleaded anxiously, her eyes knitted together in confusion. "Killian, you're scaring me." She tensed nervously, sucking her lower lip between her teeth.
Closing his eyes, he summered all the courage he could muster and breathed out the question that had been lingering in his head since the previous evening. "Lass… how long has it been since you've bled?"
Her eyes blinked curiously and she tilted his head to the side in obvious agitation by such a direct question.
"Your…" He licked his lips. "Your monthly time." He managed to choke out.
"I've…" She shook her head in bewilderment. "I've never—"
Killian trained his eyes toward the ceiling, running his fingers anxiously through his hair. "Bloody hell." He ran his hands down his face.
"What?" She bowed her head, sniffling slightly. "What's wrong?" She asked apprehensively.
"Tell me, how have you been feeling lately?" He turned his head, peering up at her from over his shoulder.
"I'm fine." She replied. "What's this about?"
"And you haven't felt tired or…" He swallowed. "Nauseous?" He felt himself stutter, his heart sinking into his stomach as the words left his mouth.
"I mean yeah— with the ship and everything that's happened since—" She provided in her defense. "I really don't understand what this is all about I—"
"You're pregnant." He let out a stuttered sigh, lowering his head. It was the first time he had said the words out loud — the confession so foreign on his tongue that he barely recognized his own voice.
All the color drained from her face and she went impossibly still, contemplating the meaning of his words. "I'm what?" She spoke meekly.
"You're with child." He rasped his diagnosis assuredly, his voice strained and the words tasted bitter in his mouth.
"No." She shook her head in disbelief. "That's." She mused like she could barely consider that possibility that— "That's impossible. I can't be—" She thought. "Are you?" Her breath caught in her throat. "Are you sure?" She let out a pained gasp.
Killian acknowledged her question with a single nod of his head and buried his face in his hands for a moment before raising quickly to his feet.
Pressing her palm to her mouth, she let out a choked sob, her shoulders sinking at the weight of the revelation. Her other palm drifted to her stomach, touching the unborn life that rested in her womb. Her eyes closed as noiseless tears slipped from her eyes, streaking her pale cheeks.
She was carrying a child — his child. The idea left her mystified but still she felt the slight flutter in her chest at the promise that someday soon she would be holding a child that would be the perfect mixture of both of them.
He had to avert his gaze from her at the sight of her hand clutching the child inside her — a product of his lack of self control and impatience. "I will send the surgeon in to see about confirming your condition." He whispered as if it were an afterthought before letting his feet subconsciously pad toward the door.
"Killian—" She blinked back the bittersweet tears forming in her eyes.
He didn't open his mouth to answer her, instead he ripped the door open and slammed it shut behind him — the sound echoing and radiating off the walls of the cabin.
Twelve Years Earlier…
Killian was led out in shackles, the metal clinking against his back as he walked. He refused to meet the crowd gathered around the whipping post, instead concentrating on the ominous object just a few feet away from him.
The air around them was silent, the only sound that could be heard was the waves lapping against the side of the ship as it rocked back and forth in the water. He felt a sharp shove against his back, hastening him and urging him forward as he reluctantly trudged toward the post.
The man behind him laughed as he kicked the back of his legs, nearly tripping him to the ground. Killian stumbled forward, his footsteps pattering unevenly against the wooden planks beneath him.
Once they reached the wooden post, Killian was flipped around on his feet to face the imposing method of torture as a man worked his bounds free. There was a sense of foreboding looming heavy in the air, covering him and wrapping him in its unforgiving embrace.
His lower lip quivered in fear, sweat dripping from his open mouth as his heart hammered in his chest like a war drum. Killian was knocked forward unceremoniously, his body hitting the post until he was flush against it. They jerked his arms out, stretching them to fit over the length of the t-shaped post.
Killian winced in pain at the feel of his muscles being pulled in either direction while two men snapped the restraints around his wrists to hold him in that position. They moved forward, testing the hold of the shackles, shaking them harshly to make sure they were secure.
Killian tensed and hissed, tucking his head into his chest as he trembled, the sweat rolling off his body as he listened to the footsteps facing behind him. He let out a shaky breath, a sob catching in his throat as he awaited the first lash of the whip.
There was no warning, only the howl of the leather as it slapped against the direction of the wind before his back received the first blow. Killian arched forward, distancing himself from his punishment as a scream tore from his throat.
He could feel the pain radiating against his spine, his skin burning from where it pierced him — the blood oozing from the wound. He was given no reprieve when he felt the bite of the whip against his flesh.
Killian twisted his face in agony, his breaths leaving him in short pants as he tried to poise himself for another lash. He tensed, gritting his teeth in preparation when another smack of the leather broke his skin, slashing his shirt as blood began to soak the cotton.
He tossed his head back in torment, his body jerking violently against his bounds as received another lash. The stinging sensation in his back was unbearable and each time he subconsciously flinched away from the whip, it would only bring the whip down harder against his flayed flesh.
The pain radiated through his body, crying out in misery. He released a broken sob, the tears flowing from his eyes as he felt another sharp sting in his back, the cut soon blooming to the surface to join the others.
"Ah." He howled, the sound piercing the ears of all those in attendance, including his brother. His mouth parted in a silent scream as he bucked forward, his body flailing about upon impact. He could barely stand up, his feet sliding as he struggled to stay upright. The blood flowed freely from the open wounds in his back, rolling down his skin.
At this point he had already lost count. He just closed his eyes, waiting for the torture to end. He felt broken, his back going numb from the pain coursing through his skin. He shrinked forward, swallowing the saliva gathering in his throat and another slap of the leather into his flesh.
He screeched, his head rolling as the world around him began to spin. He heard the crack of the whip against the floorboards before it was risen to strike. Killian felt his vision blur as the pain ripped through his skin, a savage cry leaving his lips.
He felt himself slipping, tumbling into darkness as he submitted to his body's exhaustion. The last thing he heard was the heart wrenching sound of his name being called.
Twelve Years Later…
Killian had his hands curled around the railing at the side of the ship, rocking himself back and forward at the memory that assaulted his mind. He was barely keeping a hold on himself. The wait was agonizing. His surgeon had been with her for over an hour — what the bloody hell was taking him so long?
Digging his elbows into the ledge, he folded his fingers together tightly, bringing them to his mouth anxiously. He titled his head forward, resting it upon his fists as his eyes fell closed. He was clinging onto the hope that he was incorrect in his assumptions and that everything staring him straight in the face was but a coincidence.
His reverie was broken when he was joined by Madden. "You're starting to make this a habit." Killian groaned in annoyance, rolling his face into his hands impatiently.
"Well I couldn't stand by and watch you wallow in self pity for much longer. It was wildly amusing at first, don't get me wrong. But after a while I started to feel sorry for the poor bastard who managed to knock up the only thing guaranteeing us our payment." Madden looked at him intently.
Killian lifted his head from the obscurity of his hands and tilted toward his quartermaster. "We don't know for sure. The surgeon is with her now." He provided lowly, his voice slow despite the panic raging inside him.
"And what does your gut say?" Madden canted his head, searching the other man's face.
"It says I'm not ready to be a father." Killian responded, the heavy weight of his words crushing his chest painfully. He turned his head away, casting his eyes out toward the sea — the water glistening in the bright light of the sun.
"She's a princess — what do you think was going to happen? She isn't just some tavern wench or whore that you picked up somewhere…" Madden lectured him. "It isn't like she has the means to take care of things afterward or even knows to do it…" He continued on, despite Killian's rather obvious discomfort with the subject.
"You should have taken precautions… you knew better…" Madden said disappointedly. "What the hell were you thinking?"
"I wasn't thinking!" He barked shrilly, mentally berating himself for his ignorance. "You don't think I don't blame myself?" He lamented solemnly. He swallowed hard, the adam's apple bobbing in his throat. "You think I wanted this?" He grimaced. "I don't want this." Killian gasped, cringing in fear.
"And what does she want?" Madden urged his reflection of the situation.
"I don't know." Killian gritted his teeth in frustration.
"Well, what was her reaction when you brought it up?" Madden asked sympathetically.
"I haven't any idea." Killian murmured. "I didn't stick around to find out." He darted his tongue out to wet his chapped lips. "I can't be a father. That's not me." He asserted definitively.
"It could be if you want it to." Madden told him sincerely.
"I don't want it to." Killian replied without hesitation, remaining resolute on the subject. "This changes nothing." He inhaled sharply and shook his head in denial.
"A child changes everything." Madden reasoned. "Killian, this isn't just something you can run away from…" He insisted.
Killian turned toward him, looking him dead in the eye. "Watch me." He scowled assertively before storming off.
Twelve Years Ago...
Killian comes to several days later — waking up with a jolt from his unconsciousness. The first thing he registers is the sharp throbbing pain in his back. He hisses at the pulsing ache in his muscles as they contort and stretch to life. He had to suck his lower lip into his mouth to keep from crying out — the unbearable fire that resides in his wounds causing him to fist his hands into the sheets beneath him.
He gasped as he felt a wet rag cover his back and he winced at the contact — the towel soaked in a generous amount of alcohol spreading over his open cuts and soothing them over. "Bloody hell." He cursed, his body spasming as the alcohol numbed his back.
"It's okay little brother. You're going to be okay." He heard the sympathetic voice of his brother soothe him as he lightly pressed the rum into his fresh scars.
"Liam." He acknowledged, his body tensing under the brutal assault of the alcohol cleaning his broken and battered flesh.
"You've been in and out for days with fever… there was one point where we were afraid you weren't going to make it but I told them that my little brother was a resilient one — a survivor." Liam told him, letting the soft melodic voice of his brother calm and relax him.
Killian buried his face in the sheets in agony, letting its cold embrace muffle the sounds of his torment. Tilting his head away from him, he took a sharp intake of breath. "You told me you weren't going to watch…"
Liam pressed his lips together, his shoulders sagging as he exhaled. "I couldn't—" He began, swallowing thickly as he tried to shake the images from his head. "I wasn't going to allow you to go through it alone."
"There was no just cause to internalize my suffering. It was my burden to bear and you promised—"
"I blame myself—" Liam breathed shallowly. "If I hadn't stepped in—"
"I have no one to blame but myself. I shouldn't have let em' get the better of me." Killian insisted, bearing most of the weight of the responsibility on his own shoulders.
"I've seen the darkness in you Killian." Liam said solumnely. "It is the same darkness I saw in father, and he let it consume him. I don't want that for you…" He sighed heavily.
"I am nothing like him…" Killian growled, shifting slightly on the small bunk.
"You continue down this path of self-destruction and it is going to eat you alive." Liam sucked in a shaky breath. "You have goodness in you Killian, I've seen it. You need to let that man take over because you deserve the world… all you have to do is let yourself have it — to believe there is more to live for."
Twelve Years Later…
Not able to stomach the wait any longer, he found himself pacing back and forth restlessly outside the door to his cabin. He let the thump of his anxious footsteps echo along the long narrow corridor — the sound doing absolutely nothing to calm his racing heart.
His mouth was dry, his lungs heavy, his ears ringing with the dull buzz of his pulse as he walked. Folding his hands behind his head, he began to circle in front of the door, his mind heavy in thought.
He was interrupted by the sounds of footsteps emerging from the other side of the hallway. His attention drifted to the demanding stride and the rushed approach of what appeared to be his sailing master.
Killian lifted a curious brow at the man as he breezed through the corridor, a journal tucked underneath his arm. "Mr. Randell?"
"I've got it." Randell announced assertively.
Killian lifted his head, craning his view to make sure they weren't overheard. "Not here." He insisted cautiously before quickly ushering him to a darkened corner.
"I don't understand, can't we take this in—" He looked over his shoulder toward the door only to be positioned in front of his captain.
"It's occupied." Killian provided lowly to which the man replied with a quick nod of his head.
Randell pulled the journal from underneath his arm and placed it on a barrel off to the side of them. He flipped through the pages quickly, searching for the one he sought and pointed at the page firmly with his finger when he reached it.
Killian leaned down in inspection, a puzzled expression on his face. "What am I looking at?" He tilted his head toward the master sailer.
"It is the insignia." He responded, lifting the bound leather journal up for his captain's appraisal. "It belongs to an ancient magical order." He tapped his finger against the drawing in recognition. "They consider it to be a dark mark that passes from generation to generation — a long lineage of dark sorceresses."
"So, what does this mean?" Killian wondered aloud, scanning the page in front of him.
"It is like a magic footprint. Some are more apparent than others but all magic carries with it a distinctive mark or invisible magical seal of ownership so it can be tracked." He explained. "And this one just so happens to be rather unique." He noted.
"And to whom does it belong?" The pirate captain inquired, clenching his jaw severely.
"I can't seem to track down the origin but the witch I found identified that the same person whose magic made these gold bars was the same that enchanted the teddy." He licked his lips as he informed him of what he learned. "The spell — it was a tracking spell that when used can act as a beacon leading to the owner of the object."
Killian's eyes widened in recognition and swallowed the lump in his throat. "It would seem that our foes were being paid to track the whereabouts of the princess — someone was sent to collect her." He pieced the information together aloud.
"Who—" Randell shook his head in silent contemplation.
"Someone who desperately wants to take what is mine." Killian gathered with a slight growl of possession. "Tell no one but tell the crew to stay on high alert until we know who or what we are dealing with." He instructed quietly prompting a dutiful nod from the sailing expert.
Killian perked his head up from over the journal in his face at the sound of the opening and closing of the door to his cabin. He nodded his head to Mr. Randell, wordlessly dismissing him to give him a moment or two alone with the doctor.
Randell obliged his request, storing the journal back underneath his arm before rounding the two men and taking off down the corridor.
The surgeon, John Adler, sighed heavily and looked up at the captain expectantly. He tugged his bag of medical supplies to his chest and blinked rapidly at the imposing figure before him.
Killian didn't even need to speak to read the doctor's grave expression, but nonetheless gestured to him to come forward with a crook of his fingers.
Mr. Adler stumbled forward slowly under the obvious compulsion, having not wanted to face his captain and deliver the news that he was no doubt dreading to hear. The man cowered slightly as Killian bent his head forward, waiting intently for his diagnosis.
Adler gulped and nodded his head grimly in confirmation. "The princess is with child, sire."
Killian gasped, his breath catching in his throat as he dug his fingers into his scalp. Angry tears pricked his eyes as he stepped forward and then backward, pushing himself against the small hallowed out alcove. He placed his arm against his forehead, using it to cushion himself as he leaned forward to keep himself upright.
"Sir?" Adler squeaked, his hand raised in concern as he stepped forward.
"Leave me." Killian choked out, wincing painfully. "I said 'leave me!'" Killian screamed in fury when the man didn't move quickly enough. He let out a muffled broken sob, pounding his fist against one of the wooden beams. He lowered himself into a slight crouch, a hand still upon one of the barrels of rum for purchase as he began to pant raggedly.
He felt his chest tighten and curled his fingers into the opening of his shirt, dragging it to the side to relieve the heat wafting through his body. He was struggling to breathe, his breath leaving him short uneven gulps. His throat was constricting in on itself and his body began to shake violently as he choked for air.
Ten Years Ago…
"Come on Killian." Liam muttered to himself, bouncing in impatience, his eyes trained on the door.
"I'm afraid he's not coming." The naval officer told him pointedly.
"No." Liam shouted over his shoulder. "He said he was going to be here. He'll be here."
"The Royal Navy doesn't take too kindly to unreliable recruits. Are you sure your brother is up to such an undertaking? The Royal Navy only has placement for only the most respectable and reliable—"
Liam closed and opened his eyes, pressing his lips together tightly before whirling around and slapped his hands on the table in front of the Naval Academy recruiter. "Please." Liam pleaded with the man, his eyes wild and desperate making the man before him shift in his chair uncomfortably. "We promised we would do this together. Please, just let me go find him and bring him here." Liam begged insistently.
"You have ten minutes." He allowed, crossing his arms over his chest. "If you aren't back by then, there is nothing I can do for you."
Liam looked over at the door from over his shoulder, inwardly cursing himself.
"You might want to sign the contract now if you're serious. Best to not leave it to chance." The man looked down at the contract on the table, its words flickering underneath the candle light. "The ship departs tomorrow morning — with or without you." He warned the young bright-eyed sailor.
"Ten minutes." Liam agreed, tapping his palm against the table before turning on his heel and rushing out to search for his brother.
"Killian!" Liam called out, his hands cupped around his mouth to amplify the sound of his voice. "Killian?" He sprinted through the streets, ducking in and out of alleyways. "Killian!" Liam shouted, his eyes darting out from left to right as he moved forward.
Liam stumbled forward, the tops of his feet colliding with a pair of outstretched limbs. Lifting a curious brow, he stepped over the pair of legs and rounded them to find the source of the obstruction. He was shocked and appalled to see his brother slumped over against the wall, hiccuping and murmuring to himself, his hand wound loosely around the neck of a bottle in his lap.
"Ah, brother!" Killian greeted Liam drunkenly. "I see, you've come to join us." He smiled lazily, gesturing to the area around him. "Saved you a seat." He feebly tried to push the sacks of grain placed outside.
"Oh Killian, what have you done?" Liam loomed over him, shaking his head in disappointment. "Killian, did you forget we were supposed to meet to sign our naval contracts?"
Killian looked up at him and snorted with laughter. "Doesn't ring a bell." He spit the saliva from his mouth, unable to contain himself.
"Lookatyourfaceyouaresouptightjustbeingtheknowitallolderbrothertellingmewhattodoandwhatnotyouarenobetterthantherestofussogetoffyoursodding—" Killian mumbled incoherently, sloshing his words together belligerently.
Killian placed his fist to his chest and burped, snapping his head to the side and wincing in discomfort. "You'resuchalousystickinthemudneverwantingtojustenjoyyourself." He gargled. "Come on'!" Killian pouted childishly. "We never do anything fun together."
"Killian, you're drunk." Liam gritted out.
"Am I, really?" Killian wrinkled his face, bewildered. He shrugged his shoulders and brought the bottle to his mouth, taking a generous swig. "You'resuchaseriouschapwhyareyousouptight?" Killian babbled and sighed in exaggeration.
Liam adjusted his pants as he lowered himself down into a crouch. "Killian—" He scolded.
"Killian." His younger brother mocked him in return, the contents of the bottle swishing against the glass.
"I don't know why you keep running. What exactly are you running from?" Liam asked softly, his voice betraying his dismay for his brother's current state. "You are better than this…"
"You keep saying that…" Killian remarked heatedly. "But what if this is who I am?" He spat.
"Is this what your life boils down to? Sitting half cocked in an alley in some port?" Liam wrinkled his face in disgust. "Father would be so pleased…"
"You leave him out of this." Killian growled.
"You've been so self-involved that you haven't even noticed that you have started to become just like him!" Liam yelled in concerned anger. "You don't even realize that you are giving up the only family you have. And for what? For nothing—"
Killian scoffed, watching out of the corner of his eye to see him rise to his feet before him.
"I am getting on that boat tomorrow. I am going to make something of myself." Liam told him sincerely. "I just pray to the Gods that you come to join me." Liam pleaded with him desperately, his voice breaking as he turned and walked away.
Killian frowned and pressed his lips against the rim of the bottle, his throat burning in anticipation. Huffing, he lowered the bottle, glaring at the wall in front of him and sent the glass bottle hurtling toward it. The glass shattered on impact and he didn't flinch a muscle at the sound it made.
Liam was right — he was a drunken coward.
The next morning, Liam hauled his sack over his shoulder, his fingerless gloved hand wrapped around it. He twisted it in his wrist anxiously, his feet situated in a lunging position on the gangplank as he craned his neck out to scan the docks.
"Last call!" The captain called out, glancing around the ship to take stock of the new recruits he had assembled. He walked over to the gangplank, perching his foot on it and leaned forward. "Are you coming, son?" He asked.
Liam bowed his head in, swallowing thickly and nodded his head in response, and turned around.
"Wait—" Killian called out, waving his hand about, the other securing the sack on his back.
Liam's ears perked up at the sound of his brother's voice and the corners of his lips turned up into a smile. He slowly turned to see his brother running down dock, rushing toward the ship prepared to depart.
Killian made it to the bottom of the gangplank, leaning forward as he panted out of breath.
"Better late than never." Liam chuckled, shaking his head in amusement.
"Well you know I like to make an entrance." Killian gave his brother a sly smile.
Liam closed the distance between them, wrapping his arms around his brother. "You made the right decision." Liam whispered in his ear assuredly. "You're not going to regret this…"
Emma snapped her head in the direction of the door. The sound it made as the wood smacked against the wall, drawing her immediate attention. Her eyes went wide in horror at the sight before her that caused all the color to drain from her face.
Killian emerged from the door, his head lolling to the side as his feet skidded against the floorboards. He was flanked by Madden, his arm wrapped around Killian's neck to prop him upright with the help of another man on the other side of them.
"Justonemore." Killian mumbled, holding up a finger. "Come on' mates!" He hiccuped. "We are celebrating! I'm to be a father!"
She thrust the covers off her body, her brows arched in concern as she swung her legs over the bed to stand to her feet. "What happened?" She bulked, folding the flaps of her robe over her body and holding it against her chest.
"He had just a little too much…" Madden grunted as he slowly lowered his captain to the wall beside the bed.
"A little?" The unnamed crewman snorted only to be slapped in the chest by his superior. "What? Look at him… he's absolutely tanked." He gestured to the inebriated man sprawled out against the wall.
"No one asked for your commentary. Come on, get out." Madden insisted, spinning the man around and guiding him toward the door with a slight push.
Emma sank to her knees in front of him, taking his jaw into her hand as she eyed him sympathetically. "Why did you let him drink so much?" She glared up at the man above her, blaming him for Killian's inebriated state.
"You try and stop him. You know how he gets." Madden supplied in his defense.
"Yes, but you are his friend. He listens to you." The sound of her voice lingered in her ears as she turned her attention to the man groaning miserably. "Oh, Killian." She gently stroked his cheek.
"He'll be alright. He just needs to sleep it off." Madden told her, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. "I suppose congratulations are in order." He offered with a nervous chuckle.
Emma snapped her head back toward him, glaring at him, irritated by his bold comment.
"I seem to have struck a nerve." Madden recognized, flinging his hand in the air before grabbing the belt at his hips. "So, I'm just going to, you know—" He gestured to the door.
"But before I leave…" Madden looked around him, his chin tucked into his chest as he searched for the object he sought. "Ah. Here we are." He collected the tin bucket in the corner and slid it across the floor, hitting the side of Killian's boot.
"What's this for?" She frowned in annoyance.
As if on cue, Killian clutched his stomach as he jerked forward, coughing and gagging.
Using his foot, Madden shoved the bucket closer to the drunken pirate captain.
Killian leaned forward, staring down into the bottom of the bucket as he sputtered, retching violently into it. He groaned, gasping in large gulps of air as he expelled the bile from his stomach.
Emma brought her hand to her mouth, averting her gaze as the sound and the putrid smell triggered her own nausea.
Madden stood over them, trying his best not to laugh. "Oh." He snorted slightly, shaking his head. "This is going to be for you, mate." Madden patted his back and Killian responded by pushing him away as he groaned miserably. "And with that, I'm taking my leave." Madden spun around and began walking toward the door.
"Wait! You aren't just going to leave him here! I don't know the first thing—" She panicked.
Madden twirled around to face her dramatically, his arms spread out as he continued to back away slowly. "I think you can manage." He assured her. "Consider it practice." He suggested. "Drunken men are a lot like infants."
"But what if—" She didn't even get her thought out when she jolted at the sound of the door slamming shut behind him. "Great." She gritted her teeth.
Killian wiped his mouth on his sleeve, removing the bits of sickness that clung to his chin and lips. He moaned lamely as he removed himself from the bucket, shaking his head in offense at the disgusting taste on his tongue. He maneuvered himself back against the wall with a long drawn out sight, his eyes in a daze as he looked at the spinning room around him.
"Here." She got up quickly, moving over to the wash basin off to the other side of the room, the fabric of her robe catching the air as she walked. Collecting one of the clean rags at the basin, she slowly lowered it into the water and twisted it, draining it of the excess water before returning to Killian.
"This should help." She offered him a sympathetic smile as she slowly dabbed his heated face with the cool rag.
He shivered at her touch and scowled, moving her hand away with a slight annoyed growl.
She blinked up at him and slowly lowered herself to sit on her knees in front of him. Tightening her grip on the damp cloth, she searched his face hesitantly. There was little behind his eyes, the blue had faded into a dark murky grey, his reluctant gaze as hard as steel against hers. "What is going on with you—" She pleaded with him, a sincerity in her innocent emerald depths.
"What's wrong?" He teased, humorously. "You want to know what's wrong." He acknowledged in a biting comment. "You." He rasped. "You, Emma. That's what's bloody wrong." He admitted cruelly, his voice hoarse from the burn in his throat.
Her heart sank in her choice and her shoulders sagged as she dropped her head and inhaled sharply at his words.
"I regret it." He admitted, he raised his arm. "I regret all of it — the castle, my bedding you, the killing in your name — bloody all of it." He confessed his displeasure, his tone immutable. "I should have never come for you — you've been far more troublesome than you're worth."
She closed her eyes tightly, sniffling as she tried to suck back the tears gathering in her eyes. "You don't—" She croaked. "You don't mean that."
"Oh but I am." He affirmed with a firm nod of his head. "You're worthless to me now." He asserted, void of remorse.
"You're just drunk. You and I both know you don't mean that." She reasoned, letting a few errant tears slip down her face.
Killian growled lowly, gathering himself and stalking toward her on his hands and knees until he was flush with her face. He tilted his head, regarding her severely — a look that was often reserved for those who defied him. "Look at me. Look at me and see if I am lying." He whispered harshly.
Emma gasped, shuttering and crying at the sound of his heartless words and his hot domineering breath hitting her face. "No, you're running." She sighed solumnely, wiping the moisture from her eyes. "You're afraid that you might actually have feelings for me." She bit her lip timidly. "You're afraid that you can actually see a future here."
"Let me guess, with you?" He hissed insensitively. "Wake up your majesty!" He screamed violently and she snapped her head away from him. "Look around you… I am a bloody pirate and you are just a spoiled naive little princess!"
She sniveled, cowering in fear as her heart clenched painfully in her chest.
"Did you honestly think you could reform the pirate and then what? Move to the palace? Wed you? Become a prince consort at your side? Be a bloody fucking father?" He screamed. "Well I don't want it — any of it." His forehead creased disparagingly, venom spitting from his salty tongue as he gazed down at the child resting in her womb then back up at her.
Killian bit his lower lip, his dark eyes dancing with sobering disdain as he pulled away slowly, reveling in helpless tears rolling down her heated cheeks. He slowly got up, helping himself to his feet in front of her. He shot her one last look, his eyes hollow and emotionless, before rounding her and striding toward the door.
"Where are you— where are you going?" The sound of her shaky voice reached his ears and he winced in pain, his hand stilling on the door as he closed his eyes.
He swallowed the lump in his throat before opening his mouth to answer her desperate question. "I'm going to sleep on the deck." He provided sternly. "The cabin is yours." He allowed, his voice thick and gravely.
He fled the room quickly and pressed his body against the back of the door, listening to her muffled heart-wrenching sobs pierce through the wood and settle painfully in his ears. He squeezed his eyes shut, his shoulders trembling as his body was wrecked by the betrayal of his emotions.
Four Years Ago…
Killian wiped the sweat from his brow and drew a ragged breath. The humidity was damn near unbearable. Ducking through the thick vines, he groaned miserably as the scouting party continued their trek through the jungle. There was a heavy mist overhead creating a thick grey fog above them. The ground was damp from the rain, his feet falling into ankle deep puddles of rainwater.
"How much further, brother?" Killian called out, using his forearm to lift the curtain of vines in front of him as he followed a few steps behind his brother turned captain.
The thought was still mystifying to him. Somehow after five years of service in the royal navy, they had given his brother his own naval commission and the captaincy. He had also worked his way up through the ranks and was now a proper lieutenant with the generous compensation to match.
It wasn't without its hardships though, they had to work very hard to maintain their stations. It required them to keep the men in their charge in line and follow the orders from the higher ups without question or hesitation. He just hadn't expected that it would have them hiking in the god forsaken jungle looking for a healing plant of all things.
"It shouldn't be much further now." Liam told him, an expectant smile gracing his lips as he looked up from his map. "According to the map we are but a few kilometers away…"
"That is what you said an hour ago…" Killian whined. "Just admit it, we're lost."
"We aren't lost. We are simply turned around." Liam stated, holding out his arm to halt the movements of the men behind him. Liam circled the clearing, looking in every direction as his feet dug into the mud while he rotated. He looked down at the compass in his hand, reading the tile and pointing it in each direction to determine their current whereabouts.
"It should be 30 degrees due East." Liam acknowledged, tapping the map in his hand. "I don't know why you doubt my navigational skills."
"I don't doubt them brother. I'm simply saying that the map is wrong. We are going around in circles…" Killian breathed out, his head bowed and his hands on his knees. "We've been here before, look at the tree just there." He pointed in the direction of a nearby tree trunk with a large 'x' embedded in the bark.
"I've been marking the trail as we've gone along. We are lost." Killian said indefinitely. "The map is playing tricks on us. It keeps changing course the further we get into the jungle." He explained, his voice deep with concern. "We should turn back before we can't find our way back." He urged.
"We've come this far. We can't turn back now." Liam insisted, tucking the map underneath his arm and reaching for his water canteen. After propping the lid he lifted the mouth of the bottle to his lips and gave his brother a reassuring smile. "We just need to have faith."
"I don't know brother." Killian shook his head in doubt and lifted it to take in their ominous surroundings. "There is something about this jungle that doesn't want us to find that plant and I think there is a reason for it." He tried to reason with him.
"Are you questioning my orders?" Liam wiped his mouth after quenching his thirst. "Don't you trust me? Don't you trust our king?" He questioned his brother. "Why would he send us on some fools errand?"
"I am not questioning your authority." Killian defended, his brow furrowed in unease. "But my gut feeling is that something isn't right here."
Liam gave him a thin smile and shook his head as he approached his brother. He clapped his hand over his shoulder, shaking it gently. "You worry too much brother. All you need is to have faith in me. Have faith in our mission." He nodded in certainty, his eyes searching his brother's.
They had been far too occupied with their conversation that they barely noticed the pitter patter of bare feet against the mud. Several bodies emerged from the treeline. They regarded them with peculiar scowls on their faces as they twisted their fingers around their spears.
Liam took in his brother's wide-eyed expression and turned slowly to encounter several faces belonging to a native tribe. Liam gave them a sheepish look, softening his eyes as he pushed his hands out in caution. "Murphy?" He drew out, calling for his interpreter.
The man shuffled past his naval comrades and made his way over to his captain, an uncomfortable look on his face. "Aye, captain?" The sailor inquired.
The man that they took to be their chief tilted his head curiously, his stance still guarded as he looked back and forth between the two men.
The naval officer and the interpreter jolted suddenly when their leader opened his mouth to speak. He spoke in a low commanding tone, spitting viciously as he articulated his question in a foreign tongue.
"What did he just say?" Liam whispered.
"They want to know what we are doing on their land." Murphy relayed.
"Can you let them know we mean them no harm?" Liam requested.
Murphy fulfilled the order dutifully, exchanging words with them as Liam looked on hesitantly. "I told them that we have come seeking a healing plant." Murphy relayed, giving the men a curt and reassuring nod.
"And?" Liam asked impatiently.
"They said they've never heard of such a plant." The interpreter conveyed.
"Are you sure that is what they said?" Liam turned until he was flush against the man.
"I am not familiar with the language so I could be slightly off, but the dialect is similar to the natives living near a colonial outpost not far from here." Murphy assured him.
"Here." Liam dug into his pocket, pulling out a folded piece of parchment and handing it off to the interpreter. "Show them this and see if they know where we can find this plant."
Murphy accepted the parchment and began to unfurrow it while walking slowly toward the chief. Liam watched apprehensively as the two men traded words. Murphy glanced up every now and then to reassure the anxious naval captain.
"Well?" Liam threw up his hands as the interpreter returned.
"Well, I was wrong. They have heard of this vine, and better yet they know where to find it." Murphy swallowed hard.
"I'm sensing a but?" Liam noticed.
"This is no healing plant." Murphy acknowledged fearfully. "The natives call it 'the black death.' It's a poison."
"No." Liam shook his head in refusal. "That is impossible. They just don't want us to take it from them."
Having overheard the conversation, Killian stepped in to join them. "I think they are telling the truth, brother." Killian told him. "I don't need to speak their language to see the fear in their eyes…"
"You're wrong. Our king wouldn't steer us in this direction if it were for nothing." Liam insisted calmly.
Killian seized his brother by his arm, staring at him exasperatedly. "Damn your pride." He gritted out intensely. "You and I both know this doesn't feel right."
Liam pursed his lips, shaking himself from his brother's hold in frustration. "The only thing I know is that we came here for a purpose and I am not leaving until we see it through." He said resolutely, his voice raising slightly in indignation.
"Please." Killian pleaded fervently. "Please, don't do this. We can just tell them we couldn't find it."
"We have spent days tracking this vine and now that we finally have a lead on it, you just want to give up?" Liam looked at him, his eyes downcast as the feeling of betrayal began to set in. "Where is the honor in that?" Liam placed his hands on his hips.
"You speak of honor?" Killian cried. "You are following a king who has sent us to fetch a deadly poison!" He exclaimed, spitting passionately as he spoke. "Where is the honor in serving a king that wants to weaponize a plant? I won't be part of it." Killian refused vehemently.
"I am so disappointed in your Killian." Liam shook his head. "We could be saving tons of lives…"
"If you are right…" Killian interjected.
"I'm not wrong about this." Liam affirmed.
Killian felt a rumbling building in his throat as he aggressively seized his brother by the collar and pulled him flush against him. "You stubborn arse." Killian scowled, his tone low and urgent. "You could kill thousands. Do you want to be responsible for killing thousands?"
Liam narrowed his gaze, his forehead creasing as he breathed hard and removed his brother's hand from his person. "I know what I am doing."
"Then I'm afraid you are doing it on your own." Killian exhaled, pushing his brother away from him.
"Suit yourself." Liam grumbled. "Murphy, ask them to take us to the plant." He ordered, not tearing his eyes from Killian's.
Killian stood there, tugging his lower lip between his teeth, his eyes silently pleading with his brother not to do it. His eyes fluttered shut as he heard the heavy footsteps flowing past him as they followed their captain to their destination. He hung back, inhaling deeply as he contemplated his ambivalence.
There was something tugging at his consciousness — something telling him that he needed to push his indecision behind and be there for his brother. He tossed his head back, letting out a growl of aggravation and stormed through the treeline to follow them back several paces back.
He made his way through the heavy brush, pushing his way past the vines hanging from the limbs of the trees. He was in mid stride when he heard a pained shriek pierce the air. "No." Killian moaned, his eyes widened in fear.
Dropping his bag from his shoulder with a thump, he broke out into a panicked sprint through the jungle, leaping over fallen trees to rush toward the source of the cries. Breaking through the treeline in exhaustion, he came to a screeching halt at the scene before him.
Killian's expression sank, his heart skipping a beat in his chest at the sight of his brother on the ground, howling in pain as he gripped his hand. "Liam!" He let out a broken cry as he closed the distance between them.
The men surrounding their fallen captain in a semicircle looked on helplessly, many removing their hats and placing them against their chest. The naval officer's face had grown to be a sickly pale color and the panic behind his red eyes was almost too painful to look at.
Killian sank down beside him, his lower lip trembling violently as he placed his fist to his lips while the other hand hovered over him but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He closed his hazy blue eyes as the tears formed behind his closed lids.
"Killian…" Liam choked hoarsely, looking over at his brother as he gasped for breath. His hand had gone numb, the poison cutting off the circulation in his limbs and paralyzing him as it coursed through his veins. He could see his veins shifting color underneath his sweaty skin, drawing him closer to his death with every passing second. "Killian…" He sniffled, gritting his teeth in agony. "Pppp-lease." He stuttered desperately as tears rolled down his cheeks.
"I'm here." Killian sucked back his tears and grabbed his brother's hand, lacing it with his as he brought it to his forehead. "Please." He sniveled, his mouth parting in anguish but the sound died in his throat. "Please don't go." He begged him desperately. "I—" Killian drew in a shaky breath. "I need you. I can't live without you."
Liam winced in pain, trying to fight off the poison that was claiming its mercilessly hold over his body. "Killian." He swallowed the lump in his throat. "You're going to be fine." He assured him, panting hard in his weakened state. "You've always been the strong one."
"I'm not strong." Killian shook his head as he covered his other hand against their fingers. "I can't be strong — not without you. You make me strong."
"Killian—" He shuttered and screamed as beads of cold sweat rolled down his face. "Yes you can." He promised. "I believe in you… and now it is time to believe in yourself."
Killian gasped painfully at his words and cried into their locked hands. "No. Not without you."
"Killian, you have to promise me something." Liam began, feeling the heat rising in his throat. "Please." He squeaked. "Don't revert back to the man you once were. You're a good man. The best man that I've ever known." He coughed. "Live—ah." He screeched. "Live your life to the fullest. Live. For me — live—"
Liam gasped, choking for breath as his lung seized up and his eyes rolled back into his head.
"Brother? Liam?" Killian poked his head out from their intertwined hands. He felt his brother's grip go limp as his brother began to convulse. "Liam!" He cried out, watching as his mouth began to foam and the tremors in his body began to subside.
Killian felt him jerk in his hold as the last vestiges of life slipped from his body. His brother's hand slipped lifelessly from his and Killian's eyes closed in acknowledgement that his brother was gone. His heart clenched painfully in his chest as he gasped for breath, the tears flowing endlessly from his empty eyes.
When he opened them he saw the vacant expression in his brother's eyes and his shoulders began to shake with every sharp intake of breath. "No!" He screamed helplessly as he threw his body on top of his brother's and wept into his unmoving chest.
Four Years Later…
Killian closed his eyes at the memory, tossing his body onto his side as he adjusted the pillow behind his head restlessly. It had been so long since he had thought about his brother but in the wake of everything that had happened, his memory had somehow managed to work its way back inside him and weighed heavily on his conscience.
He flipped himself onto his back with a drawn out sigh and placed his hands over the steady rise and fall of his chest. The stars were twinkling overhead and he found himself getting lost in their subtle glow. He ran his fingers through his hair, willing the thoughts that he had long since buried away — but they were unrelenting.
"What do you want brother?" He thought to himself with a groan of irritation.
He was pulled from his thoughts when he heard a set of light footsteps approaching his makeshift bed on the deck of the ship. He turned his head toward the sound and sat up to look at his unexpected guest. "You shouldn't be up here." He cocked his head to the side in her presence.
"I couldn't sleep." She murmured softly, her hands stretched across her chest protectively as the wind whipped the blonde hair from her face.
"It really isn't safe for you to be up here." He groaned, rubbing a hand over his face.
"Is that the only reason?" She wondered, her meek voice carrying in the slight breeze.
"No." He answered, his tone short and breathy in his response. Killian pulled his legs forward, bending them slightly at his knees causing the blanket to bunch around his hips.
The unintentional action revealed his bare chest — his strong capable muscles lining the side of his body and the defined planes of his back and shoulders as he breathed out deeply. His dark hair was angled and ruffled from his restless slumber, his vocal chords rough from lack of sleep. She could see the charms of his necklace swinging slightly against his chest, the metal brushing against the nest of dark curls covering the expanse of skin.
Resting his lower arms on his knees, he turned his head toward her. "What are you doing here Emma?" He demanded, greatly perturbed by her presence.
"I already told you." She said, her voice a little more confident as she began to deftly unknot the belt around her waist securing the robe to her body. "I can't sleep." Her voice dropped into a low husky rasp as she unwrapped herself and shrugged the robe from her shoulders letting it pool at her feet.
Killian's mouth went dry at the sight of her standing deliciously and unabashedly naked before him. He swallowed expectantly, raking his eyes over her creamy skin appreciatively. He noted the way the pale moonlight casted shadows across her skin.
Her shoulders sagged as up and down as she breathed, drawing his eyes to her full rounded breasts and her pert rosy nipples that pebbled as they were kissed by the ocean breeze. His eyes drifted to the delicate curves of her hips, watching transfixed as her fingertips traced sensual shapes against her stomach.
"What are you doing—" He swallowed thickly.
"Showing you how much I need you." She hummed as her fingertips trailed down her body and slipped between her thighs. She threw her head back, sighing contentedly at the contact.
"Emma please don't—" He growled in warning.
"No." She refused, her mouth parting as she sheathed a finger inside herself.
His eyes glazed over at the erotic sight before him and he inwardly growned as she began to steadily pump her finger in and out of her tight wet heat. He felt his cock stir to life inside the confines of his leather pants — the material stretching and tightening painfully against his throbbing shaft.
She released an undignified whimper as she rocked against her finger and slipped another inside her, working them in tandem to bring her closer to the peak of her pleasure. The sound went straight to his cock, which twitched impatiently in his trousers, annoyed by her teasing display of raw sexulality.
"Killian." She keened, his name softly tumbling from her lips as she screwed her eyes shut. She fucked herself in earnest, making a tantalizing show of how much she craved his desire for her, pretending it was his fingers buried inside her.
"Emma—" He warned dangerously, the rough and broken timbre of his voice spurring the movements against her aching sex.
"If you don't like it." She gasped sharply as she rhythmically fucked herself against her fingers. "Why don't you come and stop me." She challenged, her breath hitching in her throat as she curved her fingers toward herself.
He sat there, watching under hooded eyes as she worked her fingers inside herself. He felt a growl of possession rise in his chest, his lips curled in disapproval at her blatant actions of defiance. He wasn't one that took too kindly to opposition and challenge — always quick to temper it before it reached a boiling point.
When she failed to discontinue her purposeful strokes he released a discontented roar and lifted himself from his bed roll. Killian stalked toward her, seething with jealousy, his resolve buckling underneath his hardened gaze.
It was shameful and indecent. It tempted his restraint to take possession of her pleasure. She was his — she belonged to him. She degraded him with her provocation, dared to try his crumbling patience. Her disobedience was aggravating — it drove him absolutely insane. But it was also the most annoyingly intoxicating and addictive he had ever witnessed. She was the only one capable of undoing him with a single penetrative look and it made him appear weak and fragile — and if there was one thing Killian wasn't — it was vulnerable.
His chest collided with hers and he loomed over her, glowering with his jaw clenched in anger.
Her eyes snapped open at his proximity, feeling his warm breath on her face as he seized her wrist and gently retracted her fingers. Collecting her other wrist in his grasp, he wrapped his hand securely around them and goaded her into a darkened corner of the ship.
She grunted as her spine hit the small hollow out cove on the port side of the ship. Her eyes flew open as he thrust both of her wrists above her head, preventing her from touching him. He caged her in with his firm imposing body, the heat radiating off his muscles taunting her as he used his arm to hold her in place.
With a predatory glint in the dark blues of his eyes, he leaned forward and sank one of his long thick fingers inside her and began to thrust, his upturned wrist brushing against her aching clit with every stroke of his finger inside her quivering depths. "Mine." He declared, his finger pulsing in and out of her roughly, demanding her pleasure.
She squirmed in his hold, her back arching under his rapt attentions. Emma cried out feverishly as he added a second ringed finger inside her and began to curl them toward himself. Her lips parted in a silent scream, her chest heaving and her body crying out to be owned and consumed by its other half.
Leading with his chin, he revered her gorgeous face contorted in ecstasy, her body shuttering against his as she grinded against him desperately. "You. Are. Mine." He asserted, her eyes widening underneath his pervasive stare.
Killian leaned forward, a moan escaping his throat as her breasts caressed his upper chest. "I want to hear you say it." He commanded in the deep haughty thrall of his voice. "Say you belong to me. Tell me there is no other — tell me it's only me and I will give you what you need." He prompted, his voice wrecked by the reckless need to possess every part of her.
"Yours." She gasped, bucking back against him. "Only yours, Killian. Always yours." She moaned as he continued to greedily coax the pleasure from her body.
Each glide of his fingers inside of her brought her closer to the edge and she felt absolutely helpless to prevent it. She was a slave to his desires — a concubine for his lustful thoughts and a vessel for his pleasure.
He lowered his head to her chest with an exhorted sigh, his lips ghosting against her skin as his thumb sought out the neglected bundle of nerves above her sex. She mewled against him as he lightly brushed the sensitive flesh between her legs with the pad of his thumb.
He pressed harder against her, increasing the pressure surging through his finger as he raked his teeth against the tops of her breasts. His tongue slipped from his lips, licking a teasing stripe against her skin before drawing her flesh into his mouth and biting down hard to brand her as his.
Emma seized against him, her entire body crumbling under his influence and manipulation of her pleasure — succumbing to his voracious whims. Her legs quivered as her body yielded to his solicitation of her satisfaction.
His wild and depraved eyes flashed toward her face, watching with heady compulsion as she lost herself in the throes of her pleasure. He was greedy for it — an insatiable hunger that needed to be fed.
He released her from his hold as she was riding out the ceaseless waves of her high. Suffering from the aftershocks of her orgasm, he seized the opportunity to slowly withdraw his fingers from her warmth depths.
While she was mildly subdued, he dragged his pants down his hips, bunching them underneath the swell of his ass. One hand slapped the wall behind her, propping himself up against her while the other gripped the base of his cock.
Everything about her beckoned him toward her — his entire motivation for existing — his entire reason for being was to be buried within her. Giving himself a few teasing pumps of his fist, he lined himself with her entrance and sank himself inside her in a single thrust.
His name parted from her lips on a sigh, her arms coming to wrap around his neck to pull him toward her. Killian hissed as her fingernails raked against his scalp for purchase, her head tossed back as she welcomed him home.
He drove his hips forward, building a desperate pace inside of her. He brushed the backs of his knuckles against the curve of her hip before curling his fingers around it to guide her movements against him. He snapped his hips against hers, urging her to thrust back against him with every pass of his hips.
"Killian…" She pulled his attention away from her pleasure and ensnared him in her gaze. She cupped his face, her emerald eyes boring into his as she called out to him with a whispered plea. "Killian…" She spoke softly, her thumb brushing his inflamed cheek.
She slipped a hand between them, taking his in hers and drawing it across her stomach to place his palm flat against it. "Please." She begged him, moisture gathering in her eyes.
"No." He choked out painfully, trying to slide his hand away but was held down by a firm hand on top of his. "Please don't—" He winced with a shake of his head.
"This is where you belong." She told him, panting hard as he continued to rock forward with rigorous abandon. "You belong with us." She lured him in like a lamb to the slaughter. "You can have this. We can have this."
He beat his fist against the wall behind him, a wounded howl ripping from his throat at the gravity of her words. "No. I can't." He whined in denial, his movements faltering against her. "I won't."
Killian gasped, his eyes snapping open as his entire body shook with a cold sweat. He shifted around from left to right in recognition — he was still on the deck of his ship. But the most apparent thing was that he was completely alone. It was the way it always had been and always would be.
He knew what he had to do — he had to give her up.
He didn't know when he had managed to fall back to sleep but from the dull ache in his limbs and the red rims and the smudged black that lined his eyes told him it wasn't much. He whined in annoyance at the relentless squeaking overhead and the clanking of the rigging as the men scaled it.
He groaned, shielding his eyes against the rising sun when he was greeted by a shadow looming overhead. Killian winced, peeking up from over his arms to see the amused face of his quartermaster hovering over him. He frowned as he felt a subtle kick to his calf and he growled in warning.
"Just checking to make sure you're still alive." Madden threw up his hands in surrender.
Killian flung his arms to his side gruffly and blinked rapidly to adjust his eyes to his surroundings.
"Gods, you look like shit." Madden snickered, swiping his hand over his mouth to hide his obvious amusement.
"Mhm." Killian whined, flipping himself over to bury his head into the pillow beneath him and shouted into its embrace. Gripping the bottom of the pillow with one hand and throwing the other in the air signaling for him to stop he moaned, "Not another word."
"The crew wants to know when we intend to leave the harbor. It would seem that they are more anxious to depart and get back out to sea." Madden told him, prompting Killian to lift his head from the pillow with a yawn.
"Is she ready to set sail?" Killian lifted a curious brow at the mention of leaving.
"They just finished the repairs." Madden affirmed, taking a sip from his flask before offering it to Killian.
Killian wrinkled his nose in disgust and waved it off. "How fast can you get everyone back on board?" He asked groggily as he scratched underneath his ear.
"I can have them rounded up in an hour or two." Madden assured him.
"See to it that it's done. We depart no later than fifteen after ten." Killian nodded his command.
"Can do." Madden agreed. "And for God's sake, clean yourself up — you look bloody awful." He remarked.
"I will take it under advisement." Killian replied dryly before hurling himself back into his bed roll and shoving his head in the pillow as he slammed his fist against the deck.
Four Years Ago…
Killian stared lifelessly into the waves pillow, his heart squeezing in his chest as he heard the audible splash of his brother's body being lowered into the depths of the sea. He watched paralyzed as the weighted body slipped below the surface until it disappeared from view. He swallowed before releasing a heavy sigh.
"Sir?" One of the sailors in his command approached him. "I'm sorry to disturb you but the men are asking about where we are headed next." He conveyed.
"Wh— Why are you asking me?" Killian furrowed his brow in bewilderment. He turned around to see the men gathered around them, waiting expectantly.
"You were second in command." The man drew Killian's eyes back to his. "You're the new captain. They want to know what your orders are."
"I don't—" He bulked, staggering backward as he scanned the faces around him.
"They trust you, sir." The man told him in all sincerity. "They will follow you anywhere." He assured him.
Killian stewed in contemplative silence, biting his tongue as he squeezed his eyes shut painfully. His breath caught in his throat at the thought of carrying on without his brother, the agony of watching him die was still fresh in his mind — still tainted with the sounds of his stunted breathing.
"Captain Jones?" The man asked him, reaching out a concerned hand only to be rebuffed by Killian as he snarled and strode over to one of the crewmen. Seething in anger, he jerked a pistol tucked into one of their belts and cocked the barrel of the gun.
With his hand on the trigger, he spun around, aiming at each face tentatively. Killian gasped, his heart clenching in his chest as fresh tears slipped from the haunting blues in his eyes. He wrinkled his face in helpless anguish, his mouth opening and closing as he drew the gun to the side of his head.
He shook violently in place, his eyes falling closed as he gritted his teeth. His finger brushed against the trigger, the metal hot in his hands and he screamed in agony.
His eyes fluttered open as he felt a hand close around the pistol and slowly lower it down. Killian sniffled, looking up to see a pair of kind and sympathetic brown eyes next to him.
"You don't want to do this." The man gave him a thin smile as he coaxed the gun from his hand. "There you go. That's it." He encouraged as Killian relinquished the pistol.
Killian grimaced, his eyes watering in frustration and uncontrollable grief. "Why?" He asked hesitantly.
"Because I, like the men around me, believe in you." The man told him gently and Killian turned to see heads nodding in agreement.
The newly christened naval captain drew in a sharp breath and sucked his bottom lip into his mouth. "I'm no naval captain." He muttered. "I don't even want to be in the royal navy. Not now. Not anymore." Killian informed him. "He—" Killian swallowed hard. "He." He pointed to the flag bearing the colors of the kingdom they served under. "He is no kind of mine."
"I refuse to serve a corrupt king. No longer will I — no longer will any of us answer to his rule. From now on we sail the open seas as free men!" Killian insisted, his voice raising as he passionately addressed his crew. "We will do what we want, take what we please and kill any man that stands in our way!" He announced to roaring applause.
"They took my brother from me and now they will suffer my wrath — a pirate's wrath. We will answer to no one and sail under the black flag! We are the fearsome pirates of the Jolly Roger!"
"And I vow from this day henceforth to serve you and not lead you astray. Let this be my solemn oath to you all that I will lay down my life for you. I will always fight by your side and we will always see things through to the end." He promised.
"Captain Jones! Captain Jones! Captain Jones!" They let out a chorus of cheers.
"Well said." The man from earlier nodded in respect.
"What's your name?" Killian asked.
"Scott. Scott Madden." He extended his hand in introduction.
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Madden." Killian clapped his hand in his and gave it a firm shake.
Everywhere Killian looked they were screaming his name in support and he felt a flood of emotions stirring inside him, waking from the grave. Killian let out a bestial roar, assuming his power with a warning to anyone that dared to cross him would be met with a swift and gruesome end.
Four Years Later…
"Captain?" He was broken from his revere by the voice of his sailing master. "I just wanted to let you know that we are ready to set sail."
"Thank you Mr. Randell." Killian acknowledged, looking up from the compass in his hand. "If everything goes according to plan, we should reach the kingdom of Ibbaros in eight weeks time." He told him and Randell nodded his head in agreement before dismissing himself.
Killian listened as Randell rushed about barking orders at the crewmen as they pushed and pulled the rigging to let air into the sails in preparation for departure. Tucking the compass back into his jacket pocket, he was greeted by Madden who was leaning on the wall behind him.
"Madden…" Killian noticed his presence as he wrapped his hand around the rung of the ship's wheel.
"So we're moving forward as planned?" Madden asked for confirmation.
"Aye." Killian glared at him from over his shoulder.
"And the princess' condition?" Madden wondered expectantly waiting for his captain's reply.
Killian swallowed and jerked his head toward the horizon ahead. "It changes nothing."
AN- I swore up and down that this wouldn't be a long chapter. I thought maybe 8,000 words at most and I'm like "Ooops! I did it Again…" So my apologies. This was supposed to be a filler chapter explaining Killian's backstory and instead it just came out like word vomit. It isn't even my best writing and I honestly got tired of writing it, which is why it took me several days to complete. I make no apologies for the feels I inflicted upon you with the flashbacks. It had to be done.
We are nearing the end of the story and I know all of you are thinking, "No, that is impossible. What the hell?" This was supposed to be twenty chapters long but it was far too daunting a task for me and I really do want to complete this story so instead you guys are getting longer chapters. We have three more chapters to go and an epilogue so there is going to be a slight time jump. Most of your questions and theories are finally going to start unraveling so get excited for it.
Love you guys! -Cat