Dashing Pirate Rescue

by holdingoutforapiratehero

CS Pirate/Princess AU. Fearsome pirate captain, Killian Jones though he had found a way to get them the biggest prize in all the lands when he finds out that there is a handsome reward out for the safe return of Princess Emma. But he got way more than he bargained for when rescuing her proves more complicated than he thought. Rated M.

17. Judgement Day

AN- Holy fucking shit. I never thought we would get here. I can't believe I started this fic at the beginning of July and this is the second to the last chapter. I have essentially created a mini movie. I worked on this from 10 AM yesterday to 10 PM yesterday, then a few hours today to get this out to you guys before I go back to school on Monday. This week is going to suck balls but this chapter won't… Please give it all the love because I've done nothing but write over the last 24-48 hours. This is also the longest chapter I have ever written in my entire life and I'm rather proud of it. It's got everything, including shirtless bloody Killy. You are welcome.

Dashing Pirate Rescue

Chapter Seventeen

Seven Years Ago...

"Your Majesty, they managed to escape." One of her soldier's conveyed the troubling news.

Regina walked through the charred remains of bodies — the hem of her long train brushing up against the thick piles of ash on the ground. She turned around and stopped dramatically, fisting her dress as she leaned forward, a sinister smile breaking across her crimson painted lips.

"That's quite alright. We have all we need right here." She gestured to the small feminine body that laid on the ground before her. The small child's blonde curls fanned out around her as her cheek pressed into the ground, her small hands balling into loose fists above her head. The young princess' body lay limp on the ground, her breathing faint, her eyes twitching underneath her closed lids.

"The Charmings will never see their beloved daughter again…" She smirked, glowering over the child's body as she reveled in her triumph.

"What shall we do with her, your majesty?" He inquired.

"Take her to the tower." She ordered, her smile radiant in the throes of her gloating.

The man picked up the child's body, hoisting it into his arms as he carried it through the vacant bones of the castle and up the winding staircase where at the very top stood her nursery. He deposited her on the bed and retreated slowly, slamming and locking the door behind him.

Emma's eyes snapped open at the sound, panic radiating through her green eyes as she threw herself off the bed and hurled herself against the door. Fists hammered against the wood, the door rattling from the force of each blow.

Her fingernails dug into the skin of her palm as she smacked desperately against the door, silently pleading for it to give way. Tears welled in her eyes and she sniffled as she panted from exertion. Her fists faltered against the door — her knuckles stuttering against the wood as they slowed to a stop.

"Mom? Dad?" She whimpered, slapping the door with the palm of her hand. "Someone? Anyone? Please!" She cried as hot tears streamed down her pale face.

"No one can hear you." A shrill voice said from the corner of the room.

Emma slowly turned around to see a woman, dressed all in purple perched on top of her toy chest. "Who—" She stuttered. "Who are you?"

"Your parents never told you about me, did they?" She taunted with a creepy smile. The woman scoffed and turned her head. "Typical Charmings." She mused, swinging her legs. "Let's just say I'm the queen." She hummed, testing the sound of her new title on her lips.

"You're not a queen." Emma spat, holding her head up high. "You're a witch." She hissed.

The woman feigned offense to the accusation and laughed. "Strong words coming from such a little girl. Bravo." She clapped humorously as Emma curled her lip in distaste.

"What are you going to do to me?" Emma chirped, the question fired back with a biting tone.

"You, dear?" She got up, stalking toward her, her dress swishing as she approached her. "With you dear…" She placed a hand on each cheek, searching the girl's eyes. "Absolutely nothing." She smiled sweetly.

Emma glared at her, flinching away from her. "Then I'm free to go then?" She tilted her head up as she asked her question. She watched on as the woman spun around on her heel dramatically and placed herself back on the seat at the window.

The woman tossed her a foreboding smile and shook her head. "Why dear, of course you are." She answered unequivocally, waving her hand toward the door and the lock clicked.

Emma nodded in reply and turned toward the door and was immediately pushed back by an invisible barrier. She furrowed her brow in confusion but decided to try again only for her attempt to yield the same result. She pressed her palms against the force field, testing its hold. She went wide-eyed, flipping around — stunned and bewildered.

"Oh? Did I forget to mention that?" She barked in amusement. "You didn't think you could just waltz out of here without paying a price, did you?" She shook her head senselessly.

Emma's face dropped in disappointment, her hand closing around the locket around her neck like a lifeline as she stepped back on her heel.

"Oh, you naive, stupid little girl." She chided, placing her hands in her lap. "I'm afraid that the only way you are getting out of this castle is if someone brave enough comes to rescue you." She pouted tauntingly. "Oh." She remembered playfully, placing her hand against her head for emphasis. "There is one caveat—"

"Breaking the curse will require one very precious sacrifice." She told her, her eyes shining with mirth. She got up from the seat cushion and began circling around her. "A very specific sacrifice." She lowered herself, whispering teasingly into her skin.

The sensation sent a cold shiver down her spine and her eyes clamped shut the woman's proximity to her. "What is it?" Emma tensed with impatience, waiting to hear what horror would have to befall her in order to escape. She followed her movements with her eyes, leering in discontent.

The witch stopped, leaning forward to brush the hair covering her ear and placing it on her shoulder, the action making her skin crawl. "Your innocence." She whispered.

Emma inwardly gasped at the revelation and all the color drained from her face. "My—" She swallowed hard. "My—"

"Yes." She confirmed, placing a hand on her shoulder and walking around the young royal.

Emma's eyes watered as the woman cupped her face, inspecting her with a critical eye, her expression was slightly soft but with a hard edge. "It is your innocence which is needed…"

Emma gulped, her lower lip trembling.

"The daughter of the woman with skin as white as snow…" She revered wistfully, stroking the back of her knuckles against her cheek. "Pure and chaste — it is the only way to break the curse."

She let her hand slip from her and dangled in the air expectantly. "Someday you will be rescued by a noble and handsome knight, and it is said that he will be your true love."

"My true love?" She stammered quietly as she curled her fingers over her locket.

"Well let's hope so." The queen gave her a disgusting smile. "Or all this would have been a waste…"

"What does that mean?" She stepped forward, the question lingering in the silence that fell over the nursery. "Please…"

The queen waved her hand and a puff of purple smoke engulfed her and when it finally dissipated she was gone. Lifting her skirts, Emma spun around, her eyes darting around the room in panic. "Wait! Please!" She called out to no avail — it was too late — she was already gone.

Seven Years Later…

"What's going on?" Snow yelled over the roar of the wind circling around them, her hair whipping against its cruel assault as she clung to her family.

"It's her — she's returned." David howled his explanation, the air around them sucking the oxygen around them as the purple smoke whirled around them. "Don't let go. I'm not about to lose my family again." He clenched his jaw tightly, his expression hardening in determination as the smoke invaded them — capturing them in its hold and carrying them off.

When the ugly purple plume of magic dissipated they were standing in their former throne room — at least what was left of it. David jerked his head, exploring every corner of the room in recognition.

The walls had crumbled, debris and decay scattered across the floor. What was left of the walls were darkened with ash and the curtains were tattered and worn. Directly in front of them was the small platform that housed their individual thrones. The blue satin was barely visible underneath the ruined upholstery covered in scorch marks, and the family crest was all but faded from existence.

This couldn't be reality — this was a nightmare — a gruesome haunting of the past.

"That's impossible—" David murmured, holding on tightly to his wife and daughter trying like hell to hide the panic rising in his voice.

Magic wafted through the air as a thick twister of purple smoke rose from the ground and the subject of his nightmares emerged from within. David steeled himself, raising his chin as the witch came into view.

"Regina—" He hissed in remembrance.

"David—" She acknowledged with a sadistic smile. Taking a few steps forward, her skirt skidding across the floor upon her approach, she gazed in awe at the fear emanating from the family. "And the entire charming family." She remarked in amusement. "How sweet."

She took a few steps more, her heels clacking against the hard stone. "And Emma…" She looked at her with a sense of longing that made each of their stomachs lurch in response. Regina raised her arm as she closed the distance between her and the cowering woman with the intent of stroking her face. "My have you grown and must I say you are practically glowing…"

David recoiled, flinching his family away protectively. "You don't get near my family."

She tilted her head, rolling her eyes at the disgusting display of his weakened paternal nature. Retracting her hand, she rubbed her fingers together and scowled in annoyance.

"What do you want Regina?" He demanded. "Why have you brought us here!"

His tears blurred his vision, his breath coming out in short pants timed to the sound of his stilted heartbeat. Wincing painfully, he kicked the horse once — twice, urging it forward despite the pain radiating throughout his entire body. The horse's hooves pounded into the ground, kicking up the damp earth as it moved onward.

The path was dark, nothing save the bright light of the full moon overhead to guide his way to the harbor. Eventually his keen instincts kicked in and he was able to rely on his heightened sense of smell to snuff out the smell of the ocean in the distance.

Everything in his body was screaming at him to turn back but still he continued on — fighting back against the overwhelming urge to pull hard on the reins and tug the horse back in the opposite direction. He knew if he even chanced a glance back at the road behind him he would give in, which is why he needed to get himself as far away from the castle as possible to avoid the temptation.

His fingers curled around the reins tightly, twisting leather in his grip to keep himself motivated and focused on guiding the horse to the port town just up ahead. He could see the dim lights flickering in the distance along the stone structures that lined the narrow streets.

He allowed the wind blowing in from the ocean tide beyond the streets to point him home. He blinked the moisture from his eyes, determined to keep them open despite the overwhelming need to close them so he could expel the emotions that plagued his mind. Instead, he pushed them down, burying them down just like he had done with the memory of his brother to never return.

Keeping his eyes trained on the pathway edging around the town, he slapped the reins to hasten the horse's stride. The only thing he could do was keep moving — keep running with no end in sight.

Once his eyes fell upon the imposing size and shape of the Jolly Roger's silhouette, he tugged hard on the reins and brought the horse to a screeching halt. He viewed it longingly, taking a sharp breath to allow the planks of wood, the looming masts, and the white billowing sails flapping in the midnight wind bring him comfort. But even the nearness to the vessel he called home couldn't ease the ache in his heart. His first love failed him in its mission to reciprocate his feelings — but in the end she was all that he had.

Killian walked the horse to the edge of the docks and maneuvered it so that he could hitch back from where it came. Leaning forward, he patted the horse in gratitude and then dismounted the stead. He collected his belongings, hitching the sack over his shoulder and let his feet lead him down the docks.

Breathing in his bond with the sea into his lungs, he continued to trudge toward the ship moored, letting the prolonged moments pass him by giving him time to calm himself. When he returned, his crew would be expecting the hardened domineering pirate captain not the sniveling broken man that mourned the loss of the woman he loved.

He swallowed before exhaling, letting his shoulders visibly relax so that he could steel himself for what was to come. Arriving at the bottom of the gangplank, he titled his head up toward it, mapping out the painted wood that had to be mended time and time again after surviving a scuffle with an enemy — each healed wound bearing a scar in its aftermath much like his own. You could cover up and try to hide a wound but scars lasted forever.

Adjusting the sack over his shoulder, he began to walk up the steep incline leading to the main deck. He watched empty as the scaffolding and the rigging came into his line of sight.

He didn't make a show of his reappearance, opting to clench his jaw, a haughty look radiating from his stormy eyes. Pressing his lips together, he regarded each member of his crew he passed with discontent and inferiority.

He side-eyed his quartermaster, who was in the midst of conversing with the master sailor to plot their course, as he strode by him, immediately peaking the ship's interim captain's interest.

"Killian!" Madden dropped his expression, noticing the man's furrowed brows and his steely disposition as he walked by. He nodded toward Randell and rounded the master sailer to go after his captain. "Killian!" He called out to little avail.

Killian snapped his head to the side, inwardly growling as he ignored the man's pleas and descended down into the ship. Continuing to pay him no mind, he ducked underneath the low hanging beams, stalking down the corridor until he reached the door to his cabin.

He threw open the door, stomping inside wordlessly and dropped his back to the ground. With his back turned away from the open door, he began to work his overcoat from his shoulders with a concealed grunt.

"Killian?" Madden drifted his head into the doorway cautiously before taking a careful step past the threshold to stand behind the man who was in the process of undressing himself. "Killian?" He tried again, his voice trailing off at the distressing way his friend peeled back his waistcoat and tossed it to the floor in aggravation.

"What?" Killian addressed him with a deliberate hostility toward the man who had insisted on interrupting him. "What the hell is so pressing that you can't even give your captain a moment to change?" He looked at him from over his shoulder as he aggressively untucked the shirt from his pants.

Madden swallowed, dropping his head. "I just wanted—" He began, cringing at himself to try and find the words. "I needed to make sure you were alright." Madden finished, raising his arm as he arched his brows in concern.

Killian couldn't help but roll his eyes in annoyance as he gripped the hem of his shirt and lifted it over his back, his muscles rippling while it slipped over his head. "I'm fine." He grumbled, balling up his shirt and tossing it aside carelessly. Turning on his heel, he stared at the man coldly. "Why wouldn't I be fine?" He shrugged slightly, breathing heavily.

"I don't know." Madden rubbed his palm over his mouth before throwing his arms up in the air in defeat.

Bending down, he tore the bag open, searching around for his signature black shirt and pulling it out once he grabbed hold of it. Scowling, Killian took the shirt in his hands, shaking it out to unwrinkle the fabric and then pulled it over his chest. He adjusted the collar around his neck, flipping it down so that it was flush with the rest of the shirt and reached forward to pull the pendants he donned from the neckline so they faced outward.

"Killian, we don't have to do this now. We can wait till morning—" Madden insisted, referring to their impending departure.

"Why should we wait?" Killian proceeded to ask, narrowing his gaze in bewilderment. "There's no reason to wait." He said aggressively. "She's ready now."

"Please, just get some rest and we will reevaluate things in the morning—" Madden offered, trying to reason with the stubborn pirate captain.

Killian drew his hands down his face before setting his palms together in front of his mouth. "It can't wait until morning." He asserted. "It needs to be tonight." He remained resolute in his command.

"Killian, you should really—"

"I'm sorry, did I forget the part where you were allowed to give me orders?" Killian mused angrily. "Because at last I checked, I am still the bloody captain!" He growled, exhaling sharply as he frowned. "If I say it can't wait until morning then it can't wait until morning! Do I make myself clear!"

Madden breathed out an exasperated sigh and relented to his captain's wishes without further retort. "Yes, sir."

"Now, if there is nothing else you need, go make yourself useful and prepare the men for departure." He barked in obvious irritation as he moved over to the trunk at the end of his bed and pushed it open to pluck the black crushed velvet waistcoat from his trunk.

The trunk snapped back closed with an audible thunk that echoed around the room. He gritted his teeth at the sound and unfolded the vest. He tugged it over his shoulders, one arm at a time until it hung at his sides in preparation to be fastened down his chest. Taking a side in each hand, he flicked it up and down to straighten it when the faint sound of clinking metal hitting the floor caught his immediate attention.

Abandoning the vest, he tilted his head toward the floor to see the metal glinting against the floorboards. Bunching his pants, he bent down into a low crouch and cocked his head to the side curiously to inspect the object. He reached out to snatch it from the ground, taking it between his fingers and brought it into view.

He turned it over, examining the defined circular shape of the silver with its radiant oval-shaped ruby at its heart and two small diamonds that adorned the gemstone on either side. It was his mother's ring — how the devil did it get there?

21 Years Ago…

"Hey, give that back!" A seven-year-old Killian jumped up and down, reaching for the item being goaded over him by a boy twice his size.

"What is an urchin like you even doing with something like this?" The older boy laughed, sniffing slightly as the other boys near him chattered in agreement, urging him on.

"It was my mothers!" Killian growled, trying to shove the other boy back to no avail.

"You know I bet this would fetch a nice price—" The boy suggested to a round of hoots and hollers of encouragement. "You really should have hawked it when you had the chance."

"Please, it is the last thing I have of her!" He begged desperately, helpless tears brimming his eyes at the thought of losing it.

"Maybe I should just drop it right over the edge here—" The other boy taunted cruelly, side-stepping to hold it over the ship where the waves crashed below.

"Please! I'm begging you. I need it." Killian insisted earnestly as he implored him to return the stolen possession.

"You hear that? He needs it…" The boy mocked Killian's tone. "It is a damned wedding ring! Who the hell would want to marry you?" He cackled. "Who could ever love a scrawny little orphan?"

Killian tensed at his words, digesting them like hot burning coal as he stood there, his head bowed in shame and his fingers curled into fists at his sides. Averting his gaze, the tears began to fall without his permission and gritted his teeth helplessly.

"Give it back, goblin!" Killian's ears perked up at the sound of his brother's voice coming to his aid. He held his head up to see his brother in front of him, towering over them intimidatingly, his hands folded across his chest .

"Or what?" The boy hissed.

"Have you forgotten what the penalty is for stealing on this ship?" Liam looked up at the boy knowingly, a sly smile splitting his face. "A growing boy like you needs a lot of rations to sustain him…" He provided with a cant of his head. "But I suppose given the value of the item you've stolen, the price may be far steeper."

The boy looked over at the irons positioned over one of the masts and gulped in fear. "Fine, you tosser!" He gave up and threw the ring to the ground and Killian automatically dropped to his knees to get it. "Good luck finding someone who would want to spend the rest of their lives with that ugly mug…" He spat, lunging toward him just to frighten Killian further before leaving the brothers alone.

Killian pressed his lips together, snapping his head to the side, the ring still resting on the top deck a few inches away from him. A shadow rose overhead, blocking his view of the ring and he breathed deeply.

Liam bent down in front of his younger brother with a kind smile and soft brotherly expression and collected the ring from the ground and offered it to Killian. "Here you go little brother." He extended it to the brooding boy in front of him.

"No." He scoffed. "They were right. No one could ever love me." He choked out. "You should take it. I won't be needing it."

"No." Liam grabbed his hand and unfolded his fingers so his palm was outstretched in front of him. "Mother wanted you to have it." He placed the ring in his palm and closed it with a gentle pat on his knuckles.

"It might not seem like it right now — but one day you'll find someone worthy of you, Killian. And when that day finally comes you will put that ring on her finger and she will be the luckiest lass in all the realms to have someone like you in her life."

"Do you really mean that?" Killian asked skeptically, yet hopeful.

"No. I know it." He promised, smiling brightly down at his little brother.

21 Years Later…

He closed his eyes at the memory that assaulted his mind and closed the ring in his hand, still able to feel the weight of the same gesture from all those years ago. He curled between his hands and brought to his lips, kissing his knuckles in remembrance.

It was no coincidence that it ended up in his waistcoat — it was a sign and a miraculous gift sent from the heavens above. And he knew that only one person could be responsible for it.

"Thank you brother." He whispered, hoping like hell that his gratitude could reach above the clouds. He was still there with him — had been all along and this was proof that his brother had been watching over him this entire time — pushing him toward her. His brother was either the best matchmaker or he had a very sick and twisted sense of humor in his afterlife.

He chuckled and sniffled at the thought, letting his mind be filled with the memories they had shared together — memories he hadn't thought of in years. But among them were snapshots, glimpses of his future life flashing before his eyes — a future he desperately wanted.

They were vivid, as if already etched in his mind like they had already come to pass.

Him standing behind her, her back pressed against his chest as their hands covered her swollen stomach. She sighed contentedly, placing her head into his neck as he gazed down at her lovingly.

Him by her side, her hand clutched in his as he nodded encouragingly for her to push as hard as she could. He wiped the sweat from her brow and placed their twined hands to his lips as she sagged against the bed in relief, cries filling the room.

Him extending his arms to accept a chubby cheeked newborn infant in his arms, tears rolling hotly down his cheeks as he gazed down in awe at the life they had created. She had given birth to a son — a son they named Liam.

Killian walking the babe to its mother, placing it in her arms. His forehead brushing the side of her head, staring in wonder as she cradled their son, her hand resting on top of the blanket, the ruby wrapped around her finger glinting in the sunlight that poured in through the window.

Their hands folded into one another's as they gazed out over the horizon, the sun setting on the waves in the distance. They leaned in, closing the gap between them and captured her lips with his.

Her underneath him, his lips pressed into her skin as she cried out his name. Him bucking forward against her hips, her body pulling him inside her to bring about her pleasure.

Emma.

His eyes flew open, tilting his head as he slumped backward at the weight of the realization that crossed his mind — he needed to get back to her. Placing the ring deep inside his back pocket, he quickly gathered himself to his feet and finished dressing. He could hardly wipe the smile off his face as he threw on his leather jacket, and shook out the sleeves to adjust the fit over his arms.

With a hand on the hilt of his sword to keep it from swaying, he exited the room and stomped up the steps that led topside. He jogged across the deck to see the crew busy fiddling with the rigging and unfurling the sails.

"Master sailor, prepare to weigh anchor." Madden called out the command.

"Wait!" Killian screamed, meeting his quartermaster, who stood behind the helm.

"Killian?" Madden responded to his captain's sudden appearance with a questioning brow.

"I can't — We can't." He breathed out in exasperation, a myriad of emotions rolling through him. He was practically operating on pure adrenaline.

"Hey. Hey! Look at me." Madden grabbed him by the shoulders and searched him over. "Are you sure?" He asked, dragging him toward him slightly for emphasis.

"Never been more bloody sure of anything in my entire life." He shook his sweaty head, an earnest grin crossing his uncharacteristically optimistic face.

"Well…" Madden's eyes widened unexpectedly and he threw his hands up in the air, yielding to his captain's decision. "I guess we are going after a princess."

"What do you mean 'we?'" Killian asked, the words lingering on his tongue.

"You don't think you are going alone, are you?" Madden scoffed in mild offense. "You know me better than that. But I'm going to tell you right now that the crew isn't going to like—"

Before Madden could even finish his thought aloud, Killian had already fished the coin purse from his pocket and was tossing it to him. "Is this?" Madden held it up in question.

"The prize money? Aye." Killian confirmed. "See to it that every crewman gets his share."

"Killian, I don't know about this. Are you sure it is wise to do this right now?" Madden asked him, clutching the heavily weighted velvet pouch to his chest. "Do you need a moment?" Madden suggested sincerely. "You are looking a little—" He winced awkwardly as he assessed him.

"What is wrong with how I look?" Killian defended, waving his hand about dramatically whilst he looked himself over.

"I've seen you at your worst mate. At times bloody deranged but this—" He moved his hand up and down to gesture to his person. "This is a whole different kind of madman." He shook his head, trying to conceal his laughter.

"You're a right git you know that." Killian glared at him and pointed toward him in accusal.

"This git is about to save your sorry arse from her folks. Do they even know she is with child?" He asked him point blank. Madden watched several different emotions flicker over his face at the mention of the unborn child, the most prominent being extreme agitation at the notion of confronting her parents and admitting that he had defiled their chaste daughter. "I'm going to take that as a 'no' then."

"Well, I better go grab my spare cutlass." Madden concluded, motioning toward the stairs leading below deck.

"I'm not taking you with me if you are going to insist on being this bloody annoying." Killian let out an exasperated sigh and rubbed his temples to ease the growing ache in his head caused by his quartermaster's grating personality.

"Looks like you might not have much of a choice in the matter—" Madden told him gravely, looking out at the water over the port side of the ship.

Killian met his concerned expression with a raised brow and followed his line of sight expectantly. Twisting himself around slowly, he cast his eyes out into the water to see a large frigate steadily approaching the shore.

All of the color drained from his cheeks at the powerful ship cutting hastily through the waves, hurtling toward them with determination. Killian shifted his gaze back to Madden and shuffled to the side quickly. Throwing himself against the side of the ship, he glanced up in horror to see the familiar warship that had encountered a few weeks prior.

"That's bloody impossible." Killian murmured lowly, his eyes widening in disbelief. "We decommissioned that ship, did we not?" He wondered, the sight in front of him vexing him beyond rational reason.

Whirling around, he looked around for someone to answer his question to only see blank faces staring back at him. "Someone better bloody answer me!" He screamed violently, striding across the deck in fury. "Answer me or I will start personally arranging for each of you to be dragged underneath the keel of this ship!" He demanded, shoulders shaking in fury as he stared them down threateningly.

"When we left it, it was no longer operational." Bradley assured him, yelling above him from the quarterdeck. "I saw to it myself." He informed him absolutely.

"Then someone needs to explain to me why the hell it is here charging toward us!" He barked shrilly, pointing out at the ship behind him. "I swear to the Gods above, I will start flaying flesh from bone!" He asserted aggressively, spitting the venom from his mouth as he shook in a fit of rage.

"Don't just stand there like bilge rats. I am still your captain!" Killian cried out viciously, vengeance dripping from his tongue like water leaking from a crack in the ceiling. "Prepare for battle, the lot of you." He commanded before shifting his head to that of his master gunner. "Finley, ready the cannons." Killian began to break out into a gentle sprint, gesturing madly with his hands as he went. "Get them loaded and ready to fire!"

Killian grabbed hold of a piece of the rigging and swung himself to land on the top step of the stairs leading to the quarterdeck. "I want every damned powder monkey preparing grenados!" He insisted, his voice conveying his immediate distress. "Position gunners at every high vantage point and arm them with muskets and have men in charge of reloading while the backups are being fired. Keep them at long range and pick them off one by one!" He cried out savagely, wiping the spit gathering on his lips.

"I'm not going to let them hurt her." Killian vowed to himself, staring dead ahead at the massive warship bearing sails a color as black as death itself. His nostrils flared, his eyes dilating with the promise of spilled blood as his fist squeezed around the ropes attached to the rigging.

Anyone who ventured to get near her was going to die the most gruesome and heinous death imaginable by his hand — and his hand alone.

"Where are we at Mr. Finely?" Killian muttered in impatience, a rumble forming in his chest. "She's almost in range." He assessed, cold sweat beading his brow. "We are dead in the water like this if we don't make a move as soon as possible so I ask you again, are our lives worth your incompetence!"

"Cannon fuses lit and ready for your order, captain." Finley answered, overseeing the men positioned to go at the captain's behest.

Killian looked out ahead, silently calculating the distance between them and the warship. Pursing his lips, he counted in his head as the ship closed in on them. "Get ready." He signaled, raising his arm. "Take aim — FIRE!"

The ship rocked violently and Killian held onto the rigging for purchase as the cannons unloaded their war cry. A heavy plume of smoke filled the air and everyone held their breaths, waiting for the impact they were certain would come — but there was nothing. No sound other than the weight of the cannon balls hitting the water and sinking down into the depths of the ocean before imploding.

When the smoke finally cleared the ship was gone leaving no trace of its existence.

"Hold your fire!" Killian held his arm above his head, his fingers curled into a fist to articulate the order. "Something isn't right here…" He mused, his eyes widening in panic.

Madden came bounding toward him, nearly out of breath as he bent forward, placing his hands on his slightly bent knees. "There is no sign of the ship. It just—" He shook his head in utter disbelief. "Vanished." He offered up the only conclusion he could think of in the face of something that seemed impossible.

"No. Not impossible." Killian murmured grievously, sniffing the air trying to cut through the smell of salt, sweat, and smoke for the defining scent he sought out. He narrowed his eyes in recognition when he identified the toxic odor that held the answer to the mystery before them. "That was magic." He informed him indefinitely, turning his head toward the quartermaster. "We need to get to the castle right the hell now."

Emma sniveled against her father, the terror radiating through her body crippling her and paralyzing her where she stood. She felt like she was going to collapse, the only thing keeping her upright was her father's grip on her. She had been a victim of this woman's wrath for far too long and the thought of falling back into it was a fate worse than death. But it was no longer just her life at stake—

"Oh—" Regina shook her head intently. "You aren't really here." She pouted in disappointment, preying on the fear and torment that their current location brought out in them. "None of us are." She grinned twistedly and waved her hand lifting the veil of magic around them to reveal the throne room in the castle with everything still intact. "It's a simple cloaking spell and might I add, quite effective." She tossed her head back in laughter.

David's eyes darted around the room, watching in bewilderment as the throne room came into view. In the blink of an eye, everything was restored to its former glory. Gone were the downed pillars, the rubble littering the floor, windows reappeared intact, and the thrones on the platform were back to their old selves.

"Why?" David demanded, snapping his head back in Regina's direction. "Why are you doing this?"

"Surely your lovely wife knows what this is about." She paced back and forth in front of them, taunting and glowering over them hideously. "Why don't you tell them Snow."

"Nothing I ever did to you is just cause for this pain and suffering." Snow said adamantly, gritting her teeth. "You took my daughter and locked her away in a tower. And for what? To punish me for something that wasn't even my fault."

"No. You stupid naive girl." Regina demeaned her, hurtling the insult as if it fell so easily from her tongue. "Your father never gave me the attention I deserved. The only thing he ever cared about was his precious daughter and it is no different than you." She gestured to the way Emma clung to her desperately.

"So you take it out on my daughter? If you have a problem with me Regina, take me. Not her!" Snow shouted into the void of silence that had drifted between them.

"No. That isn't enough." Regina cried out furiously, spitting venom from her mouth. "I want what was taken from me. The kingdom should have naturally fallen to me when your father died but instead he entrusted it to you and then there is the shepherd, who has no right to rule!"

"Is that what this is about?" David growled. "Your crown?" He hissed. "Take it. We don't want it! Just leave my family alone."

"You stupid feeble little man." She huffed in exasperation. "Don't you know anything? I need someone of royal blood to stake my claim to the throne. The people will never accept me as queen without."

"Emma—" Snow whispered in recognition.

"No." She smiled cruelly, wriggling her finger to scold them. "No dear Snow. What I desire is an heir."

There was a loud crack of thunder overhead, the force of it shaking and rattling the ground underneath them. The sound was deafening, the vibrations rising up from the soil as if to swallow them whole and prevent them from reaching the castle gates.

Killian was blinded by a bright flash of lightning sparking the sky. It lit the area around them, bringing everything into view. The wind hissed, cutting through the air and driving their advance backward.

The ominous bark of thundered sound rose up from the ground, building up in intensity and roaring to life as it broke through the surrounding area. The horses screamed at the sound, tugging desperately to escape the sky's impending wrath.

The storm escalated overhead, arching over them sinisterly to capture them in its hold — the wind snarling hideously sending the limbs of the trees snapping from their trunks. It sounded as if the world was opening up around them, the violent rumble trying to shake them off its dastardly trail.

The air around them was moist and Killian could smell the heady scent of moisture rising just before the sky opened up and rained down upon them like a furious plague. It was like the Gods were vengeful for them encroaching on their territory as the rain beat down mercilessly upon them.

Killian winced as the heavy drops of rain pierced his skin and clouded his vision. There was another crackling of lightning overhead followed by a murderous clap of thunder raging against their assent.

The horses fought back against their master's commands, urging them away from their destination as their riders insisted they continue. They galloped maddly, their hooves splashing against the puddles gathering in the damp earth beneath them and kicking up the soggy dirt as a warning to the rider behind them.

Killian flinched as the rain pelted down upon them, each drop feeling like a needle puncturing his skin. He tried to resist its assault, averting his gaze and riding low on his horse to avoid the rain's fearsome retaliation.

His horse whimpered as another buzz pierced the veil above and a surge of electricity emanated from the bowels of hell itself. The thunder waged on its war to unseat them from their mounts, determined to

"The horses aren't going to hold out very much longer in these conditions!" Madden screamed over the brutal and punishing wind, the rain soaking him to the bone. "We need to stop!" He insisted, snapping his head to the side to try and blink the moisture obscuring his vision.

"If we stop now they'll be dead!" Killian replied shrilly, trying to communicate with the quartermaster despite the brute force of the wind and rain. "And I will die before I let that happen!" He declared menacingly. "Ha!" He kicked the horse insistently with a shrill battle cry.

The horse sprinted with a renewed sense of urgency, nearly bouncing out of his seat as he charged forward vigorously. He could feel the weapons strapped to his chest, smacking back against him as he rode hard. The thick black leather baldric crossing his chest contained a number of weapons in addition to those carried on the sword belt attached to his hips.

Hanging heavy against his breast were two standard flintlock pistols containing two shots in each and two small blades tucked inside meant for close combat. The holster pressing against his back held a mid-sized boarding axe that could also be used to cut down his enemies with a single blow along with a coiled rope, a grappling hook attached at the end. The baldric was fashioned together by a shiny silver buckle that could be undone rather quickly to release the weight and allow for more mobility.

His signature sword belt housed his usual arsenal — his cutlass that had served him well in battle and had taken the lives of numerous men, his magically infused pistol with its crimson-colored hard shell and silver hardware, the initials KJ etched into its grip, and lastly, a dagger that when wielded could pierce the sensitive flesh of his victims and render them lifeless.

He didn't need to look behind him, well aware of the rather large assembly of armed men that without hesitation volunteered to follow him into battle knowing that they might not come out alive. Their loyalty to him was unmatched having served them for the last four years without fault. He couldn't count how many times he had saved their lives from certain death, intervening just in the nick of time to kill their attackers before they could kill them. He had kept his oath to wage war on the open seas, fighting by their side rather than watching and refusing to get his hands dirty. It was with that selflessness that made them step up to answer the call to arms.

"We're coming up on the castle gates, prepare to dismount!" Killian informed them, his voice echoing through the unyielding whistling wind. His heart pounded in his chest, the rain rolling down his skin and soaking him to the bone. Water dripped steadily from his bangs and his shirt molded itself to his chest so that you could see every bulging muscle and prominent curve in his body. His leather pants tightened around his legs with the added weight and constricted movement making the outline of his flaccid cock rather apparent.

When they finally broke through the tree line, the sight before them stopped them dead in their tracks. Killian pulled back on the reins tightly, rearing the horse that rose on its hind legs in terror. Moisture beaded his brow as he glared openly in disdain at the angry cloud of purple smoke engulfing the top of the castle.

The menacing plume of smoke swirled like a tornado overhead, bright flickers and streaks of dark purple lightning peered through the cloud, the imposing thunder it produced rocking the ground underneath them.

"What the hell is that?" Madden howled, shielding his face as the rain pelted them from the sky above.

He had slowly started to piece things together — the warship with the mercenaries for hire, the gold bricks with the magical seal, and the teddy with the tracking spell. It was her — it had always been her. Why hadn't he seen it before?

"It's the witch." Killian acknowledged with a deep exhale and grinded his teeth together, trying to steady the agitated horse he was seated upon.

"What does that have to do with—" David began to speak, but his breath hitched in his throat when he finally understood the meaning of her words. He looked down at his daughter, his eyes falling over the subtle glow in her face and the hand cradled protectively over her slightly rounded belly.

"Oh, child." She shook her head in amusement. "You mean to tell me you haven't told them yet?" She barked in laughter. "Well… this is just delicious. Your chaste little daughter is with child. But not just any child — the bastard spawn of a filthy pirate."

David's face twisted and widened in shock at the confession and he rested his head on his daughter's head sympathetically. Something primal had taken hold of him with the knowledge that he now had another soul to protect against Regina's wrath. He would die before he let her harm his future grandchild.

Emma sneered at her at the mention of her unborn baby and the man that she loved with her entire being, seething in anger. "You will not get near us to take this infant from me. I refuse to be a pawn in your quest for revenge." She spat. "You will have to kill me first and like you said, you need me."

"Such feisty words coming from such a fragile human." She mocked. "It appears the pirate has had quite the effect on you in more ways than one." She nodded toward the swell of her stomach. "Tell me, did you enjoy being claimed by a vile and loathsome creature like your dear pirate? I must admit it was a brilliant touch on my part. I'm sure your father is just teeming with anger at the thought of his little girl with a pirate." She laughed.

"Leave Killian out of this." She muttered, inhaling sharply. Emma steeled herself, trying to calm her racing thoughts for the sake of her unborn child. She looked over toward the door, which was open a crack, letting a small amount of light from the hallway to shine through creating a shadow on the floor.

"Oh, you poor girl." She leaned forward feigning regret and sympathy. "He's not coming for you. I've seen to that." She waved her hand dismissively.

Emma's eyes widened at the revelation and she jerked herself in her parent's hold in an attempt to lunge at her in retaliation. "What have you done to him!" She screamed, fighting her father's grasp on her. "What have you done?" She cried, hot angry tears beginning to roll down her face.

"Emma—" Snow opened her mouth to reason with her, working with her husband to hold her back. "Don't—"

"No! Not until she tells me what she did to him!" Emma demanded, her eyes wild and vengeful.

"Nothing that he didn't already do himself. He is long gone I'm afraid." Regina said certainly as if it was pure fact rather than speculation and began to step back and forth in front of them with keen interest. "You know fear of commitment can do that to a man and he wasn't willing to stick around and give up his life for you and the child growing in your womb." She stepped forward, her hand held out to caress her swollen belly.

Emma averted her gaze, wincing and sniffling as the witch descended upon her. Her breath caught in her throat as she felt her sickly touch on her stomach. "Please—" She whimpered, tears sliding hotly down her face as she begged her not to take her child. "It is the only thing I have left of him. Please, please don't take my baby."

She gave her a twisted smile and released herself, stepping back to revel in the fear that struck the royals. "It would seem fate chose wisely when deciding your true love."

The comment was unsettling and Emma tilted her head to face her, her lip curled in disgust. "What is that supposed to mean?" She asked softly, the statement leaving a bitter taste in her mouth.

After dismounting the horses, they scattered into the forest in fear, unwilling to confront the situation up ahead further. Killian glanced up, his chin tucked into his chest as he adjusted and took stock of the weapons he had armed himself with to see the men doing the same. With jaw set in determination, he straightened himself and stood erect before them.

Rain streaked his face, but it was unable to penetrate the look of dangerous resilience dancing behind the hardened blues of his eyes. Tilting his chin up, a hand curled around the hilt of the cutlass strapped to his belt as he appraised their preparedness. Even through the haze created by the dark locks fused to his forehead, he was teeming with a veral strength, his rigid muscles visibly flexing underneath the black cotton clinging to his skin and the blood pumping through his veins crying out for retribution.

Madden came up next to him in the midst of shoving his pistol into its holster at his side. Twisting his head around without moving the rest of his body, he looked at the towering wooden gate barring them from entering starting from the bottom to the top. "This the only way in?" He asked his captain for confirmation as he slung his grappling hook over his shoulder.

"Aye." Killian answered without much finesse. "The castle sits on a large lake and the bridge is sitting on the other side of this wall."

"Do we know what's waiting for us on the other side?" Madden inquired, ruffling his hair with his hand to rid himself of the bulky water residing there. He lifted an eyebrow as Killian directed his attention to the top of a tree where one of the men was perched on a branch, his eye trained behind a spyglass.

"Talk to me." Killian crooked his fingers in impatience. "What are we looking at here?"

"I counted near 80 insurgents on the bridge and 20 guarding the main entrance." He relayed, lifting the spyglass from his eye.

"And artillery?" Killian asked, tilting his head up toward the tree.

"Muskets. Bayonets. Swords. Pistols." He provided and then gulped before communicating the last of it. "And two short-ranged cannons at the end of the bridge."

"Bloody hell." Killian muttered.

"Killian, we will never make it past that." Madden told him, panic evident in his voice. "We won't even live long enough to take them out, we will be blown off the bloody bridge!"

"You don't think I know that?" Killian countered, a crazed look in his eye. Closing his mouth, he pondered his options trying to assess their best course of action. "Do we still have the granados?" Killian wondered, turning his head toward the quartermaster with a discerning and calculating eye.

"Well, yes. But they are ruined from the rain—"

"Yes, but they don't know that." Killian gave him a sly smile. "We don't have the numbers and we don't have the fire power but we do have our cunning wit. What we need is a distraction."

"Just what are you suggesting?" Madden let out an exasperated sigh and threw his hand up in the air. "They clearly have the advantage."

"You know your lack of confidence in me isn't very reassuring." Killian scolded aggressively in offense. "We lead them to believe we are trying to enter through the gate by breaking it down while a decent number of us scale the wall and when we reach the top we toss down the granados— they will duck for cover giving us enough cover to descend down to engage them in hand to hand." He proposed confidently. "We've dealt with their lot before and they are absolute rubbish at hand to hand, and that is where we excel."

"That's just fine, but what do you suppose we do about the inevitable cannon fire?" Madden reminded him.

"We take them out of commission." Killian answered directly with a nod of his chin.

"Killian, that's bloody suicide. You'll never get close enough!" Madden said adamantly.

"Then I guess you'll have to give me plenty of cover fire." Killian told him with a dangerous smirk.

"Fine." Madden relented with a slight growl. "But you are a bloody mad man!" He wriggled his finger in, his eyes wide and wild.

"Then I guess you shouldn't bloody mess with a pirate captain with an affinity for blood and violence who also just happens to be an expectant father." Killian grunted ferociously as he removed the grappling hook from his back.

"Oh, so you're a father now?" Madden countered, both hands on his hips as he leaned forward in mild skepticism.

"I am today." Killian smiled with an arrogant tilt of his head while he wound the rope around his arm.

Today was judgement day — it was either all or nothing.

After communicating the plan to the 67 men that had made the journey with them, they took their places and waited for their captain's command to execute. Killian looked to his right and left, seeing the men with their axes at the ready to bust down the doors. With the rope wound his elbow, he held the grappling hook in his other hand, pulling it taut against him.

He glanced two men down the lineup, meeting Madden's gaze and he gave him an encouraging nod. Killian tilted his head up, narrowing his aim at the top of the gate while the heavy rain continued to fall over them.

"Let's go!" Killian ordered sharply, water bouncing off his chest as he bucked backwards and swung the hook over his head before launching it at his target. The hook made contact with the edge of the wooden gate and he pulled hard, testing its integrity before tying the remaining bit of rope and securing it to his waist.

Killian slung one leg over the rope, straddling it and positioning his feet against the doors and pulled himself up with a grunt of effort. His muscles shook violently with the strain to his body as he lifted himself up toward his destination. He was barely able to hold on tight enough. Between the weight of the weapons attached to him, the slippery rope in his hands, and his feet dragging against the doors saturated with rain.

His body smacked hard against the wood as he stumbled, his boots sliding against the gate. Killian released a frustrated scream, swinging from the rope as his feet hovered over the ground. Clenching his jaw, he shoved his fists together, one over the other and hooked his legs around the rope and began to tug himself up.

It was a test of his strength and his resilience. The muscles in his upper body shook violently, his face morphing with the exertion to his body. He propelled himself up the rope, slithering in a snake-like fashion as the sound of the steady whack of the axes sliced into the wood below him rang out.

Bracing himself toward the top of the gate, he clutched the rope barely able to see what he was doing with the wet locks matted to his forehead. He propped his feet against the wood and gave a hard concerted push, jumping off the rope and catching himself against the edge of the gate.

He adjusted his fingers wrapped around the edge of the gate, swaying slightly as his body slid against the doors. He launched himself slightly, still hanging from the edge so that he could close his hand around the other side to pull himself up when he felt the ricochet of gun fire exploding off the wood near his hand.

His grip slipped and he removed his hand from the wall and rolled so that his back was pressing into the wood behind him.

"Killian!" He heard Madden shout from beside him.

Killian hung loosely off the ground, treading the air with his feet as if he were swimming. He snapped his hand over his forearm to prop himself up and hold himself steady as he shot a look that articulated a statement of 'well, that just happened.'

"Get those granados ready!" Killian barked in authority. Unperturbed by the chaos going on behind the door, he bared his teeth and pulled himself the rest of the way up until he straddled the top of the door. He placed his hand out on the edge to steady himself, the door swaying slightly as his crewman below chopped through the barrier.

While the enemies below busied themselves with reloading their weapons, Killian curled his lip in concentration as he rubbed a bit of quartz against the flint to get it to spark momentarily and threw it over the wall.

"Granado!" He shouted, capturing the attention of those below him who immediately rushed to duck for cover. Killian listened to several grenades join his own. Down below him, his enemies cowered into themselves, wincing as they awaited the blast that would never come. Using the distraction, Killian reached over his shoulder and removed the axe from his back.

"When you reach the bottom, focus your fire power on their gunners." Killian called out, looking down below, his feet hanging off the edge on the other side as he gripped his axe by the handle. "See you on the other side, lads." He offered before throwing himself over the edge and dragged the sharp edge of his axe against the wood to slow the speed of his descent.

His body jerked as he hurdled to the ground, the axe digging into the wood leaving a deep gash in its wake. When he was a safe distance from the ground and the skidding slowed leaving the axe buried in the door to the gate, he jumped down, rolling his body to cushion his landing once he hit the ground.

Pulling himself upright, he pressed his lips together and pulled both flintlock pistols from his chest and cocked the hammers in a fluid and practiced motion, aiming them at the men in front of him that looked down at him from the barrels of their guns.

Killian fired the first shot and the second in quick succession, the first making contact with the man's chest sending him flying backward as thick crimson splashed from the exit wound, and the other hit pierced his enemy right between the eyes, the man barely able to register his presence before he fell to the ground.

His lips curled into a satisfied grin as he dashed sideways, his eyes still trained on his respective targets and his fingers still tapping in anticipation on the trigger of each extended pistol.

He placed his head on his shoulder as he heard several footsteps land on the hard stone behind him and he instinctively knew that the slower members of his hunting party had joined the action. "Mr. Madden, get that barricade off the door and let's give our new friends a proper greeting."

By the time his crew had managed to make it down the door, their enemies were already starting to compose themselves after the threat of granado fire and were poising themselves for attack.

Rain cascaded overhead, water pouring down on them like hellfire. "Take out those gunners now!" Killian barked, the force of the order shooting out water like a projectile.

Deafening gunfire rang out all around them, sending thick plumes of grey smoke into the air. There were howls of pain that filled the air, blood gushing out upon impact. The loud smack of bodies hitting the ground faded just as the smoke cleared. The blood ran translucent underneath his feet and severed limbs were carried down the stream leading toward the drain.

Rain continued to fall heavily from the sky creating ripples in the puddles below and Killian leapt forward, his boot falling in the pool underneath his feet sending water mingled with blood splashing against his pant leg.

Killian directed his gunfire in front of him. He jerked the pistol in his right hand to the side and sucked in a breath, and fired it. The man hunched forward violently, blood flowing from his mouth as he gagged his last breaths. Throwing the now useless weapon to the ground having spent its last shot, he fixed his remaining pistol at an unassuming man trying to reload his weapon and released the hammer.

The bullet punctured his chest and the man's eyes rolled into the back of his head lifelessly as he sank to his knees. At the sound of the wooden plank barricading the door shut scattering to the ground, Killian drew his pistol and fired off one shot after another killing three armed gunmen where they stood.

After being able to disarm several of the offensive members of their force, Killian stepped to the side as the doors to the gate burst open and his remaining crewmembers hurled themselves inside in a blaze of gunfire. Their enemies returned fire in kind, knocking back several of his men in the process.

Smoke billowed out from where the bullets had been unleashed from their weapons and there were flashes of gunpowder rising in the air. There was a fresh screen of blood that marked the faces of those around them and the distinct crunch of bone as several pairs of feet stomped through the carnage littering the ground at the entrance.

Killian stood in the corner, returning his pistol to his sword belt before removing the small knife at his chest. Gripping it firmly in his hand, he narrowed his gaze and launched it into the middle of a man's back. Blood soaked the man's shirt and he fell forward, the blade still in his spine.

He hummed possessively with the intoxicating screams of death penetrating his ear drums and his pulse hummered in its desire for more bloodshed. It was like a master summoning its slave to do its bidding and a siren's song waking the savage beast that lay dormant inside. Tension coiled in his belly, craving the pleasure of massacring his enemies. He panted, his cock twitching to life in recognition, the testosterone pumping madly in his veins as he accepted the raindrops bouncing off his skin.

With a lascivious grin on his face, he steadfastly unfastened the boldric across his chest, letting it drop to the ground in front of him. "Get those muskets reloaded!" Killian shouted, unsheathing his cutlass from its scabbard and shaking it with a loose grip at his side.

"You've been busy." Madden observed, a smirk playing at his lips as he looked at the dead bodies scattered below, the rain flicking off their death masks.

"No you are just slow." Killian taunted him smuggly.

Madden nodded his head in challenge and raised his pistol, twisting his body around 180 degrees to land a shot directly into another man's chest. Whirling around with an arched brow, he faced Killian with a mischievous grin. "You were saying?"

"Call me when you reach double digits." Killian leaned forward and patted him on the shoulder before rounding him and lifted his cutlass, swinging through the air experimentally.

The remaining men on the bridge had yielded their heavier artillery and were running toward them at full speed, charging at them with brutal screams.

"Let's do this." Killian sneered wickedly, a slight laugh falling from his lips as he poised his blade, ready to engage in combat.

Killian greeted the first man to challenge him with an antagonistic smirk as he raised his blade over his head to block his strike. Steel screeched against steel as the man bared his body weight against the pirate captain but Killian remained unfazed by his approach.

"You know I don't really appreciate the lack of showmanship. A man dedicated to his craft can get far more creative than this. This just shows me that you really don't give a shit." Killian taunted, mirth dancing behind his sadistic blue eyes. Pressing his lips together, he countered the other man's offensive maneuver by using his weight against him to draw him backward.

Covertly, Killian pried the small blade from his belt and twisted his palm inward as the man stumbled backward. Killian ducked against the swing of his blade and propelled himself up to pierce the man's jugular and rip it through his flesh.

Killian opened his mouth, moaning as he dragged his blade through the man's neck bringing his blood to the surface. Wrapping his legs around him for purchase, he pushed his weight against the dead body and rode it straight into the ground below. The final slash of the blade sent blood splattering across his face and he tossed his head back in sheer ecstasy at the sensation.

Blood stained the water dripping down his face, the potent elements mingling together to create a bath so red and so violent that it rendered the man looking on in horror speechless. Lowering his head, he met the panicked gaze of his neck victim with a deranged expression and swung his leg from the body to stalk toward him with a preditoral glint in his eye.

Killian navigated through the dead bodies around him, skipping over them with childlike enthusiasm as he approached the cowering man with the trembling sword in his hand.

The cowardly man slashed his weapon but Killian tucked himself inward to avoid the blow. Killian's cutlass connected with his and he swept the blade from his hand. The man parted his mouth in shock and he flinched away from him preparing to be struck.

Killian glowered over him and slowly bent down to retrieve the other man's weapon. Clutching in his other hand, he rose from the ground and inspected it appreciatively. "Nice weapon you got here, mate." He complimented in a calm and authoritative voice that made the man's blood run cold.

Shifting his stance, Killian spun his cutlass around, keeping a steady hand on the hilt so that it stuck out behind him. "This is your first time isn't it?" Killian perceived. "You never forget your first—"

Tightening his grip on his own sword, he thrust it out behind him without looking to stab a man with a raised sword straight through his gut. "Rude. Can't you see we are having a conversation here."

The man shook violently as he looked over Killian's shoulder to see the man with blood raining down from his mouth to splash the back of Killian's neck before eventually dropping dead on the ground.

Killian lowered the man's sword and pointed it over experimentally with an amused chuckle. "The craftsmanship is just—" Killian smacked his lips together simulating a kiss. "You don't mind if I borrow it do you?" Killian asked him seriously.

"Are you going to kill me?" The man shuttered in fear.

Grabbing the hilt of his primary weapon and flipped it outward to land in an upward position. "That really all depends…" Killian shook his head, both swords clutching in his hands and pointed toward the sky, moisture rolling down the flashes of steel. "I am looking for a very beautiful woman— green eyes, silky blonde curls, about yay high." Killian gestured as he rocked forward on the heel of his boot expectantly. "Have you seen her?"

With eyes blown wide, the man shook his head slowly.

Killian cringed in disappointment and clapped the blades together forming an 'x' and slid them together making a horrible screeching noise. "Then I guess it is not your lucky day." Killian's smile faded as he loomed over the man and stretched the blades outward, lining them up with his neck. With a grunt, Killian brought them together, scissoring the blades through flesh. The man convulsed underneath him as the pirate captain reveled in the blood that soaked his face.

He finally retracted them from his neck when he met resistance, steel meeting steel within the artery and pulled them outward forcefully, the blood from his wound misting his face. Reinvigorated by his latest kill, Killian rejoined the war effort with a newfound vigor and purpose — to make good use of his newly acquired weapon.

Killian swung his primary blade in the air, letting it collide with the one in his face in midair while plunging the new one straight into his chest. Spinning around, Killian crossed the swords in front of one another, connecting them with his enemy's sword and pushed him back with a firm kick to the stomach, sending him to his knees.

Pulling the swords apart with a flourish, he pointed them inward at the elbow and placed the sharp points on both sides of his head, and pushed hard until he felt them pierce through tissue. He inhaled sharply, holding in the breath for several seconds before releasing it and freeing the blades from the man's skull.

"Hey, nice sword." Madden nodded to him, panting slightly as he withdrew his own weapon from a corpse. "Where'd you get it?"

"It was a gift." Killian opened his mouth, releasing a breathless laugh. He looked up ahead, the cannons at the end of the bridge coming into view. They were nearly in its line of fire. "Let's clear as much of the area as we can and position our gunners to cut down those who operate the cannons."

"Ay aye, captain." Madden affirmed before he took off in the other direction leaving Killian sandwiched between two backs turned to him.

Wearing a confused expression, he tilted his head from side to side curiously before lunging forward and slashing the backs of both enemies. Killian looked from side to side as they curled themselves inward, howling in pain as blood seeped through their shirts.

Grasping the hilt of one sword, he bent his elbow and smacked the man in the back of his head with the blunt end of his blade. He twisted himself around and twirled the swords in his hand with a practiced flourish before turning them inwardly, his palms facing upward and skewered the man right through his back.

Killian heard screaming from down below and he stuck his head out over his victim's shoulder to see a member of his crew crawling backward in horror. "Sorry, mate." Killian offered an apology before sliding both weapons out and leaving the crewmember soiled in blood to deal with the aftermath.

Leaping through the air, Killian skidded on the wet cobblestone and clashed swords with one of his aggressors. Tilting his spare weapon, Killian flashed him a crazed smile, enjoying the widening of his eyes as he brought the sword into view and promptly impaled it in his chest. Killian retracted it just as quickly as it had entered his body and swiftly kicked him in his chest to knock him over.

Killian tucked his head into his wet sleeve and wiped his face in it, doing little to nothing to alleviate all the water, dirt, grime, and blood on his face. He strode through the carnage, striking several enemies down along the way until he reached the closest distance away from the cannons that he could be without falling prey to their deadly fire power.

He opened his mouth, inhaling deeply to suck in the rain that steadily fell overhead. He took a moment to steel himself before turning his body to address those in his crew that were still alive and uninjured. "Get the hell over here. I need muskets!" Killian demanded shrilly.

While some of the men were finishing off the remaining enemies, a few of them strode up to him to take up the call to arms, including Madden. "I'm going after the cannons. I need you to cover me." He instructed Madden. "Give them the order and call em' as you see them."

"Killian, you don't have to do this." He stopped him by grabbing hold of his arm.

"My family is in there." Killian growled menacingly, shrugging the man from him. "I can't stop. I won't stop!" He declared resolutely. "If you want me to live long enough for that to come to pass you better be a bloody good shot." He spat, wrinkling his face assertively.

Madden stared at him blankly, flicking his eyelashes as he took in his determined expression. "You know I am." He licked his lips and gave him a firm shake of his head.

"Good." Killian nodded. "Now, if you don't mind, I need you to hold onto this." He tossed him his newly acquired sword, which he deftly caught in his other hand. "I've grown rather attached to it so I will be wanting it back."

"You greedy fuck." Madden leaned in to fire the insult.

Killian flashed him a teasing smirk and rolled his eyes as he sheathed his sword, and swept down to pick up an enemy bayonet. He lifted it to his line of sight, pointing it outward and moving it over the cannons positioned up ahead.

"I hope you know what you are doing." Madden warned.

"I do." Killian looked up from the bayonet and shrugged. "I just hope you do." He slowly lowered the large weapon to his chest.

"God speed." Madden nodded his chin respectfully, the words weighted with a wistful urgency.

Killian returned the sentiment, sealing his promise to not get killed. "Keep them off me." He directed the order toward the members of his crew wielding muskets with the intention of firing to protect their captain.

Killian watched on, counting silently in his head to wait for the exact moment to charge head first into something he was sure would lead to his certain death. But he was never one to shy away from death — in fact he welcomed it.

"Now!" Killian screeched at the top of his lungs, running toward the cannons at full force, arching his back slightly as he kept a firm hold on the bayonet cradled in his arms. Muskets whizzed past him as he stomped up the length of the bridge, his boots splashing in the thick puddles gathered between the rocks as the rain poured down over his body.

He watched as the bodies running to take up their positions behind the cannons were cut down before they could reach it but a few lingered, keeping low to the ground despite the threat of demise.

Killian's eyes widened in horror at the telltale sounds of the cannon ball being loaded into the barrel of the cannon. He worked himself up into a brisk run, bearing his teeth and screaming as he hurled himself to the ground. His knees hit the cobblestone viciously and slid against the rain, letting it propel him the rest of the way there.

Rising the bayonet over his head, his fingers curling around the body of the gun he pulled himself up to his feet until he stared down into the barrel of the cannon, its fuse sparked and slowly running down.

Killian howled, swinging the rifle in one swift movement and burying the sharp tip of the bayonet into the firing mechanism and pushing it in, his face quivering in sheer madness as the rain dripped from his body. There was a loud blast as the cannon backfired. Limbs were torn from bodies and blood rained down thickly while smoke plumed out around them.

The force of the explosion knocked Killian backward, sending him hurtling through the air. He landed with a hard thud against the pavement, his cheek scraping against the bedrock beneath him. There was a sharp, paralyzing ringing in his ear caused by his proximity to the cannon when it went off. Wincing, he coughed and sputtered, rolling around to try and force his body to move.

"Killian!" Madden screamed hoarsely amid the death rattles of those that suffered from the blast. "Get up. Get up." He pleaded lowly, searching up ahead for movement.

The pain was radiating through his body and he pushed his feet out, skidding against the shallow puddles at the rounded point of his boots as he cried out, curling his fists in agony. He hissed at the deafening buzz in his ears and he choked the water from his lungs. His world was spinning around him, unable to focus on his surroundings.

He blinked rapidly in an attempt to adjust his vision, slowly letting the dim light filter itself back into his sense of sight. He clenched and unclenched his fists, testing his ability to feel and rolled his head into the pavement. As the sound shifted back into existence, he could hear people trying to gather themselves together to resume their positions at the remaining cannons.

"No." He gritted his teeth and pressed his palms out beside his head to push himself off the ground. Killian trembled, the pain surging in his knuckles as they flexed to raise him off the cobblestone. He mustered the strength to stagger to his feet, swaying from side to side due the disorientation caused by the blast.

Shuffling toward them, he cracked his neck to the side with a pained grunt. He staggered toward them, rising from the smoke like a harbinger of death. They were clamoring around the cannon, struggling to load the cannon when Killian approached them.

Killian loomed over them like a man possessed and reared his head back sending it clashing with the man in front of him. Turning to the other man beside him, he brought his steel-toed boot into the man's gut in murderous fury.

"What the hell is he doing?" Madden asked himself, fidgeting in obvious agitation and frustration at not being able to predict the captain's movements.

Killian cringed as he grabbed hold of the cannon and pushed it with his shoulder to rotate its direction. His feet dragged and slipped through the puddles gathered on the wet pavement as he pushed with all his might.

"He's got it." Madden beamed in relief. "Go! Help your captain!" He cried out as he broke into a run to aid the injured man ahead of him operating on pure adrenaline. Madden screeched to a halt, firing off his weapon to pick off several stragglers that were attempting to intervene.

There were shouts from the grand entrance up ahead as several men responded to the commotion and began to sprint into action. Madden looked at them and then back at Killian before directing his attention to the enemies coming toward them. "Stop them!"

"No!" Killian cried out, the muscles in his neck bulging as he strained to turn the cannon completely around.

Madden discerned his meaning quickly and threw the empty pistol to the ground to join him in his efforts. He occupied the space between Killian and the other side of the massive weapon and urged it to its side until it snapped it into place. "Get that flint lit!" Madden barked, dragging Killian away from the barrel of the cannon.

"No." Killian groaned, wiping his mouth on his arm and pushing the other man away so that he could position himself behind the weapon. "Light it." He barked in command. He didn't even need to look up to register the sizzling of the flame as it worked its way through the flint. He directed them to lower the cannon and Killian set his enemies and the door into his line of sight.

"Fire!" He screamed as the flint ran out and the barrel expelled the cannon ball, his voice lingering in the air. Killian pulled himself out from behind the cannon in time to see the cannon split through the wood and the explosion ripping flesh from bone.

"Pick off the stragglers!" Madden commanded those surrounding them before immediately coming to Killian's side to pry him to his feet. Wrapping his arm around his neck to bear his weight, he lifted him up and rested him into his side to keep him upright.

"Do you have my sword?" Killian chuckled weakly, stiffening at the pain it brought him.

"I think you may have cracked a rib—" Madden looked him over, assessing his injuries.

"That must be why it hurts when I laugh." Killian cringed, holding his side.

"Can you walk?" Madden turned his head to ask him.

Killian shot him an unamused look of annoyance. "Not well." He deadpanned. "A little rum might help." He suggested earnestly, rolling his head toward the men around them in search of a drink.

"You may also have a concussion too — unless you were this much of an idiot before the blast." Madden muttered in jet.

"Hardy har har." He mocked. "Your hilarity is amusing. Maybe if we all survive this hell the royals will give you a job as their court jester." He mused, wheezing and puffing.

"I thought you had already filled that particular position." Madden offered his retort.

"Would you two quit bickering like an old married couple and bloody help!" Bradley, his boatswain, muttered from off to the side. "And here!" He grumbled, producing a flask from his pocket and shoving it toward them. "You big baby."

"Thank you." Killian nodded his head in gratitude and accepted the flask before popping the top off with his teeth and spitting out. "And I'm going to forget that comment." He jerked his head to the side and then rolled it back to bring the rim of the flask to his lips.

Killian tipped his head back, gulping greedily and letting the alcohol warm his belly and numb the pain coursing through his body. When he lowered the flask from his mouth with an exaggerated and satisfied sigh, he noticed the thick gashes in his hands.

"Let's wrap these up." Madden suggested, gesturing over to one of the men acting as a supply mulle. "Bandages." He told him as he led Killian to the side of the bridge and propped him up against the railing with a careful hand at his waist to hold him steady as he swayed slightly.

"Jesus, Killian." He cringed, giving him thorough once over. Even through the rain he could see the cuts and bruises littering his arms and the deep scrapes on his palms. There were slight singes to his face from the flashback and his cheek had suffered a nasty wound when he hit the pavement. His shirt was ripped beyond recognition, exposing his muscles.

"Bloody hell." Killian groaned, looking down at his sliced shirt. "This was my best shirt." He moaned in complaint.

"Fuck your bloody shirt." Madden hissed, watching as the medic grabbed Killian by the wrist and tugged him forward. "Mend him and I will round up the troops." Madden patted the medic on the back to which he acknowledged with a firm nod of his head.

Madden returned a few minutes later and Killian looked over to the door, a huge hole in the middle of it giving them a way in. Killian flexed his fingers with a strangled hiss as Madden approached them.

"How is he doing?" Madden asked the medic.

"I've only managed to bandage one of his hands. We need to get him inside or they are going to disintegrate in the rain." He shook his head.

"Help me get him inside." Madden clapped his hands together and motioned for the man to get onto the other side of him.

They were able to drag Killian inside with minimal effort and the others filtered in behind them. The men stood in the grand foyer, sopping wet. They shuffled inward, their wet clothing dragging them down as they walked.

Killian was shoved into a chair and the medic bent down in front of him to resume bandaging his hands while the others began to strip off their boots and soggy clothing to remove some of the water that weighed them down.

"We're going to need to wrap his ribs and he has been favoring one shoulder over the other — my guess is that it popped out of its socket when he fell." The medic told Madden, who hovered over them as he worked.

Killian furrowed his brow and nodded his understanding, his hands immediately flying to his shirt to fist the torn fabric and rip it down the length of his chest. Groaning in pain, he leaned forward in the chair and began to shake the ruined shirt from his body leaving the upper half of his body bare. "Get to it then." He urged.

Madden relented with a slight tilt of his head and moved to hold Killian down while the medic maneuvered himself to the injured shoulder. Bradley sprinted toward them, waving his folded belt over his head. "Here. Use this." He offered.

The medic nodded his thanks and silently instructed Killian to open his mouth. With a roll of his eyes, Killian did as he was told and widened his jaw so they could slip the leather between his teeth.

"Help me hold him down." Madden told Bradley, who moved to the other side of the injured pirate captain to hold him steady while the medic moved to push the bones in his shoulder back in place.

With eyes screwed shut in anticipation and he beared down on the leather. Searing pain radiated up his arm as his bones were snapped back into place and reset into their sockets. He screamed, color rising in his cheeks as he flinched away from the source of his pain. He endured one more shove as the bones were secured and he hissed, glaring at those around him in disdain.

"There." Madden said, popping Killian in the back of his head as Bradley moved to tug the makeshift bit from Killian's mouth.

"You arse! What the devil was that for!" Killian's hand flew to his head and he rubbed it as he whined.

"Just wanted to make sure the rum had kicked in, you daft cunt." Madden spat.

"It does seem to be working." The medic noted. "Can you stand?" He tilted his head up toward his captain, who promptly rose to his feet with a concealed howl and the medic nodded his head in confirmation. "Let me bandage his ribs and then we'll head off."

The men took the next several minutes to prepare themselves to storm the castle which consisted of wiping down blades, wringing out the water from clothing, and reloading their weapons.

Killian looked around as he took a few more draws of rum from the flask and then stretched with a slight hiss. He rolled his shoulders back to loosen some of the tension in his back before turning around, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror.

"Fuck." He inwardly cursed, looking at the reflection staring back at him. He ran his hands through his hair, shoving the wet locks from his face and turned his face to the side to see the deep scrape in his cheek and the cut that burned on his forehead and retreated into his hairline.

His chest was still soaked with a fine sheen of moisture from the rain outside and his aching muscles throbbed with every breath he took, drawing his eye to every ridge and plane in his breast. The nest of curls that spread across his chest were matted beyond belief and his charms chafed his wet skin.

He raised one arm, flexing his fingers to test the bandage's hold on his knuckles while the silver in his rings glinted into the mirror from the flash of light overhead. This was certainly not how he wanted to confront her parents — or her for that matter but given the circumstance he hoped they might understand.

"Killian!" Madden called to him and Killian snapped his head toward him to see him holding his sword out to him. "As promised."

"Thanks." Killian accepted the cutlass by its hilt and looked it over, noticing the blood streaks and the mangled flesh embedded into the place where the hilt met steel. "You couldn't have cleaned it for me?" He shot him a questioning look, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

"You didn't ask me to." Madden argued.

"It was implied." Killian let out an exasperated sigh. "Let's just go. We are wasting valuable time."

"Killian, you know the castle better than the rest of us. Where are we headed?" Bradley directed his question toward his captain.

"The ball room." He let out a shaky exhale as he looked at the two officers gathered around him waiting for further instructions. "It is in the east wing. Follow me." Killian signaled with his head down the hallway. "And keep up!" Killian said as he backed away from the others.

They exchanged looks and walked toward him, gaining speed to keep up with their determined captain. The team of pirates turned the corner, pushing on as Killian took them through the maze of hallways until they reached a particularly long one.

Killian came to a screeching halt, his wet boots sliding against the carpet as he flung his arm out to stop them from continuing. At the other end of the hallway were several of the slain men's comrades.

"How many you'd wager?" Bradley leaned in to ask him.

"I'd say 30 or so." Killian observed, his eyes shifting from man to man as one by one they registered their presence. "Shit." Killian grumbled as he hurdled himself out of the way of the gunfire that erupted in the hallway.

"What are we going to do?" Bradley panted, his spine pressed against the wall behind them as gunfire whirled past them to embed into the wall in front of them.

Killian grabbed his pistol from his belt and turned it in his hand to inspect it. It had already reached its cool down period, which meant it now contained all five shots once more. "Well…" He huffed. "At least it isn't a bloody dragon."

"Seriously?" Madden cringed in bewilderment.

"Deadly serious." Killian nodded his head vehemently.

"Ready to put that 'good aim' of yours to the test?" Killian asked Madden, giving him a teasing smile before looking over the man's shoulder to see the remaining 26 men readying their weapons.

"So that's it? We are just going to go in guns blazing?" Madden assumed.

"You got a better one?" Killian cocked his eyebrow in challenge. "Aye. That's what I thought." He nodded his assertion when the man couldn't form words. "Focus your fire to herd them together and try not to get killed." He instructed his crew.

"On my count." Killian held his fist in the air to keep them on standby. "One… Two… Three!" He rolled out from the corner and aimed his gun. Lips pressed together into a thin concentrated line, he pressed down on the hammer releasing a shot into a man huddled near the corner on the left side of the door.

Gunfire rained down on their enemies from down the hall, the pirate's rushing toward them releasing round after round urging the survivors into the right corner. Killian continued his assault, his body jerking back with the force of the recoil until he had emptied his last shot into a victim's chest.

Killian broke from the rest of his men, throwing himself against the wall to avoid the bullets of his crew as they advanced on their enemies. Wasting little time, he returned his pistol to his belt and whipped his sword in the air to clean off the rest of them.

With an animalistic scream, Killian led the men down the hallway to engage their remaining adversaries. Seizing one of their wrists, Killian shoved him backward, wrestling the pistol from his hand. He knocked his hand repeatedly against the wall until the gun was finally released from his grasp leaving the man defenseless to the pirate's wrath.

Killian caged him in with his body, his arm digging into his neck to press him against the wall. "Where is she!" He demanded, spit splashing the man's face.

The man choked as Killian applied more pressure to his neck and the man feebly looked toward the doors next to him. When the man refused to provide an answer, Killian ran him through the stomach with his sword and withdrew quickly, inhaling sharply as his face and chest were painted in his blood.

Grabbing the corpse by the back of the head, he threw him down to the ground and looked up to see his crew making quick work of the remaining men. Killian righted himself and sent the man in front of him flying to the opposite wall with a kick to the gut.

The man hit the wall with an audible thud and Killian flipped his sword so that it was held straight in the air and plunged it straight through his eye. Killian screamed in fury as he dug the blade further into the man's eye socket until the blade pierced the back of the wall behind him.

The body tried to fall once it was rendered lifeless but was unable to move with the sword buried in the wall. With his hand on the hilt of the cutlass, Killian tilted his head to the side to admire his violent masterpiece. Blood poured from the man's burst cornia and his limbs hung loosely at his sides as it tried to let gravity take over for him. His heart thundered in his chest, the demon's pride surging through him at the artistic offering.

Once all of the combatants were dispensed with, Killian tugged his sword from the wall, enjoying the squelch of blood upon its exit. The man slid down the wall, painting it with his life's blood leaving the wall smeared in crimson.

"Killian!" Madden called out to him, grunting and panting as he braced himself against the doors to the ballroom and pulled with all his might. "They're jammed."

Killian's ears perked up at the sound of screaming emanating from inside the ballroom and he rushed forward, pressing his ear to the door as Madden continued to jiggle the handles to no avail. The muffled cries inside, struck fear through him and his eyes widened in horror at the thought of his family trapped somewhere inside. "Get it open." He stepped back, looking at the doors up and down. "Now!"

"It won't budge, sir." Bradley yelled, throwing himself against the door, the wood bouncing back against him with every thrust.

Circling the hallway, Killian darted from left to right for something to ram the doors down with. "Check the doors." He pointed toward the doors lining the right side of the hallway, snapping his fingers urgently.

Doors parted from their hinges as they were broken down by the pirate's and they ransacked the rooms for something sturdy enough to use as a battering ram.

"Sir!" Killian turned his head in the direction of one of the rooms to see several men carrying out a desk constructed from a luxurious maple wood — a dagger embedded into the wood.

"Bloody hell." Killian's eyes roved over the desk. "You've gotta be kidding me." He mumbled to himself.

"Will this work?" They asked, the table wobbling in the doorway as they held it up.

"Ugh." Killian threw his arms up in exasperation. "My future father in-law is not going to like this, but bloody do it." He allowed, pointing toward the doors and stepping back to allow them to carry it out.

"Out of the way. Out of the way!" Killian waved his arm, signaling everyone to get back. "Go help them." He pointed behind him with his thumb before standing in front of the doors. "Stand back, we are breaking down the door!" He called out to those behind the doors.

"Come." Killian beckoned them forward with his hand so they could push the table in front of the door and lower it down. "Wait." He reached out and pried his dagger out of the desk with a grunt.

"Killian, is that your—" Madden narrowed his eyes in recognition of the item.

"Don't ask." Killian responded by holding out his finger to stop him from finishing his thought. Without preamble, he rounded the other side of the table, bent his legs, and gripped the edge of the desk.

"Killian, your shoulder—" Bradley opened his mouth to protest.

"Fuck off." Killian snarled. "One… Two… Three… Lift!" He instructed, his boots skidding on the rug underneath him as he felt the table rise off the ground and hover in the air. "Now!" He cried out, pushing the desk against the door to hear the smack of wood splintering underneath their barrage.

They removed the desk from the door to inspect the damage but there was little impact done to it. "Again!" Killian demanded, his muscles shaking as they beat the desk against the door and pried it away. "Again! Harder!" They repeated the action, putting their backs into it to hear the doors shake and rattle against their assault.

"Again!" They swung it harder under the harsh command of their captain. Killian could see the wood beginning to break off, the structural integrity of the doors compromised from their relentless beatings. "Fucking again!"

The desk struck the doors once more and they gave way under the pressure. They wedged the door through the opening, the table sliding through the doors and parting them. When they were done they were met with a tidal wave of bodies filtering out of the room.

The pirates braced themselves against the wall as people chaotically escaped the room. Killian leaned against the desk as people pushed their way through, giving himself a moment before climbing up onto the table. The height allowed him to search and scan the faces of those released from the ballroom.

Killian's eyes darted around those pushing against the table to free themselves and craned his neck to see those that still remained. "Emma!" He cupped his hands around his mouth, letting it carry the sound of his cries. He whirled around and screamed in the other direction. "Emma!"

"Killian she isn't here." Madden yelled across the table at him.

"If they aren't here, where the bloody hell are they?" Killian wondered, circling the table to frantically search for the blonde princess.

As the last people gathered out of the doors, Killian jumped down from the table and seized a man by his collar, thrusting him back against him. "You." He rolled him around to face him. "The royal family. Where are they?"

"I don't know—" The man stuttered, his eyes shifting over the face of the murderous pirate captain, who wore the blood of his enemies like warpaint. His eyes widened in fear as Killian tugged him closer and pulled him off the ground by his collar. "I don't know. They were there one moment and there was a puff of smoke and then they were gone."

Killian sneered, a low rumble building in his chest as he slid the man back down onto the floor and staggered away from him as quickly as possible.

"Well? Where did they take her?" Madden asked him point blank.

"I don't know." Killian paled, taking a step backward.

"Think. Where would they have taken them?" Madden asked him, trying to spark something in his mind. "If you were a sadistic vengeful witch, where would you carry out your revenge?"

"So, basically, what would Killian do?" Bradley added unhelpfully.

Killian stared at him coldly at the comment, an unamused look on his face as he scrubbed his hands down his cheeks. "Bloody hell." Killian cursed angrily, raising his leg up in the air to push the table forward in frustration.

"Killian, you hate the royals. She clearly hates the royals. What is the most fitting place to bring them to their knees?" Madden nodded encouragingly.

"Fuck." Killian muttered under his breath, twisting his body lazily as it finally hit him. "Throne room."

"Throne room it is." Madden agreed, looking around him. "Which would be in what direction?" He lifted his hands up and down, waiting for his answer.

Turning on his heel, Killian pointed a curved arm and directed them to the left side of the castle. He started off into a jog and the men followed behind him without much instruction. Madden jogged up beside him and looked him over.

"Are you alright?" Madden asked, nodding with his chin as their heavy footsteps echoed through the hallways as they headed toward the throne room located back near the entrance.

"I will be once I get my hands on that witch." Killian growled, spinning his sword in the air to emphasize his point. "I've wanted to wring her neck since the moment I found out who put her in that bloody tower." He confessed, pressing his lips together as all the blood rushed to his face at the thought of killing her.

"Well let's hope it all ends here." Madden said optimistically as they came up on the adjacent hallway, several of the witch's mercenaries for hire scattered along the length of it.

By the time they reached the hallway, Killian was exhausted and ready to slaughter anyone who stood between him and his love. He looked down the hallway, casting his eyes out at them with a murderous glint and slowly removed the sword sheathed at his side to clash against the steel of the other blade.

Both swords in his hands, slashed one another as Killian lowered them and held them limply out at his sides, the points trained toward the floor. Patience wearing thin, he let out a low and menacing growl before running toward them, the others following behind him without encouragement.

Lifting one sword in the air, he spun around to counter the blow of the man in front of him and stabbed him in the heart with the other. Killian withdrew his sword with a strangled grunt, the exit wound splashing his face with a fresh coat of blood.

Killian launched himself off the body as it fell to the ground, throwing himself into the nearest man keeping him from his goal. He swung his blade with a flourish, slitting his throat before turning his attention to the person next to him that was soon to be on the receiving end of his ruthless vengeance.

Blood dripped down the planes of his chest, rolling down his skin as he clenched his jaw and crossed one blade underneath the other to puncture the torso of the man next to him. The man fell to his knees and Killian approached him, grinding the steel of his blades together. Closing the blades around the man's neck, he clenched them together, slicing through the artery.

He continued to exact his vengeance, murdering the man in an execution style display of violence. Blood gushed from the flayed flesh, grunting and twisting the swords until they cut clean through the bone and the head was separated from the body and rolled out onto the floor.

Killian glowered over his kill, coveting it with a compulsory possessiveness that made the animal within him roar in approval. He was pulled back when he felt someone tug him backward. Killian raised his blade and spun around to attack but was surprised to find Madden there.

"Bloody hell, Killian." He flinched away from him in horror and disgust to see him in the haze of his bloodlust, his chest heaving, and his face misted with blood.

"You know better than to sneak up on a man in the heat of battle. What the hell is wrong with you!" Killian tilted his head, regarding the quartermaster with a mixture of annoyance and outrage for the interruption.

"Well I'm sure glad I did." Madden told him, shoving his finger into his chest. "You look awful." He remarked, wrinkling his nose at the sight of him. "Wipe your goddamn face and go get to Emma. We'll handle this. She needs you." Madden insisted, gesturing toward the empty hallway behind him that connected to the hallway that led out into the throne room.

"Go!" Madden urged further, grabbing a cloth from his pocket and handing it to him.

Killian held the handkerchief with his upper arm and nodded his thanks before sheathing his sword and taking off down the hall at a brisk pace. Using the embroidered hanky, he dabbed at the blood on his face, trying to remove some of the blood from his face as he ran down the corridor.

There was still blood matted in his hair and caked onto the rim of his face, including his chin and his jaw, but it was better than nothing. Once done with it, he threw it to the side and stomped up the hallway, his heart beating faster with every step he took leading him closer to the door at the end of the hall.

"Who do you think procured that locket for you?" Regina asked, tilting her head in silent contemplation.

"It was a gift from my parents." Emma hissed, refusing to give her the satisfaction of having intervened in something that was so dear and precious to her.

"And how did they get it?" She implied knowingly. "It was all by design…" She alluded, flinging her hands up in the air as she spoke.

Killian pressed his back against the door, his sword weighing heavily in his grasp as he peeked around and looked through the door that was slightly ajar — just opened enough to see Emma and her parents and an unknown woman in a glittery purple dress pacing in front of them as she spoke. He strained his ear toward the door to assess the situation, his ears easily picked up on the conversation.

"My dear ignorant child." Regina frowned in disappointment. "It was never your innocence that was needed to break the curse." She informed them with a shake of her head.

Emma exhaled sharply, her eyes widening at the implication of her statement.

"It was a child that was needed. A child born out of true love." She finally confessed the inner workings of the curse. "A child that will grow up to possess the most powerful of magics." She told them in all seriousness. "Why do you think it took so long for you to be rescued? The only one capable of saving you was your true love."

Killian turned his head away, pressing his spine against the door as he let the words sink in. His eyes fluttered shut and rolled his head against the wood, his face creasing at the heaviness that suddenly consumed him. It overwhelmed him, the words lingering in his ears like the steady rocking of the ship on the open water. He bowed his head, rubbing his hand, which was crusted with blood, over his mouth in acknowledgment that what they had was true love.

AN- I am so excited that I unloaded the plot bunny. Many of you had already guessed it but now that it has been revealed, how are you guys feeling about it? This was super long and I commend you guys for getting through it, but I am desperate to hear your thoughts because believe it or not they do make a difference in my story telling.

As I have been rereading this fic I am noticing a lot of typos and spelling errors. You guys know I don't edit but I will be going back to fix some of it, and I have already started to do that slowly on Ao3 along with a few continuity things that didn't add up. There is one more chapter after this one to wrap things up and we are going out with a big bang. It will be followed up by an epilogue, which I am pretty darn excited about. I am heading back to school tomorrow and I'm super nervous about it. I probably won't be able to finish this for a bit but just sit tight and I will try the best that I can. Does anyone know how to get dust off a backpack? See you guys next time! Love you all!