Chapter Five
Cassidy wrenched his arms out of the guards' grasps and attempted to stand, only to have the imposing pair shove him back down onto his knees with a firm press of their hands to the man's shoulders.
"What is the meaning of this?"
His outraged tone was betrayed by a quiver of fear underpinning his words and Hook could not stop the grin spreading across his face.
"By what right have you had me forcefully brought here?" the man inquired once more.
Giddily, the Darkness undulated beneath the surface, feverishly awaiting the moment of comprehension that so far seemed to elude the man. "Such a summons is how all those who have failed to appear and pay their taxes within the issued timeframe are handled."
Hook waited for the words to sink in, the individual elements that collectively made up the personage of the Dark One all uniting with a singular eagerness. Cassidy's face paled when understanding dawned and his mouth fell slack.
"No," he protested, his eyes blinking rapidly and his brow pinched in both denial and alarm. Hook waved away the guards, their presence no longer needed to subjugate their prisoner - his current muddled state was proving effective enough. "No, I… our deal. I gave you my wife." The reminder of that fact hardened his features and momentarily straightened his backbone, causing him to rise to his feet in indignation. "I gave you Emma to do god only knows what with so I wouldn't have to pay taxes!"
Heavy tsks clicked against Hook's tongue and with a flick of his wrist the contract Cassidy had signed months ago appeared in the man's hands. "Technically," he taunted in a patronizing tone, "that deal only cleared your ledger of the taxes owed at the time, not what might be due to me, and the amount I collect on the Queen's behalf, in the future. Hence, my summons." After Cassidy had the chance to look the document over, a green tint beginning to color his features, Hook whisked the document away and tucked his thumb into his belt, adjusting his stance as he inquired, "So, will you be paying in coin or a tithe of your harvest, then?"
Struggling to respond, his tongue tied from a mixture of rage and dumbfoundedness, it took several moments for Cassidy to find his voice, but once located, he did not hold back his denouncements.
"How could you possibly expect me to have the necessary coin or harvest when you took my wife from me?" he shouted. "Without her to tend the house or help with the crops I've been unable to make ends meet!" When Hook gestured for one of the guards to come forward, Cassidy's demeanor shifted. "Wait! Wait, please! I…"
His frantic thoughts practically reverberated throughout the stone room as though they were grinding gears futilely turning over possible ways out of his predicament. The Dark One was already plotting the man's punishment, knowing he had nothing more to offer that might save his miserable hide. He'd already traded away the one thing of value he'd possessed, after all.
"If… if you want your taxes, then you'll have to return Emma to me," Cassidy declared. "I'll let her use her magic this time. I'll-"
A derisive laugh barked from Hook's chest, causing Cassidy to flinch. "What makes you think she would ever be inclined to help you after what you did?"
"After what I did?" Cassidy shot back. "You stole her from me. You swindled me. You knew I didn't mean for you to have her for more than a… dalliance. You took her under false pretenses."
"And you did not fight for her!" Hook bellowed, incensed by the man's accusations, despite the validity they held. "A man unwilling to fight for what he wants deserves what he gets, and your unwillingness to fight for Emma - ever - has landed you in the exact circumstances you deserve."
"I shouldn't have to fight for what is rightfully mine," Cassidy spat.
"Yours?"
Both men's heads darted up at the sound of Swan's voice, their necks craning to find her poised in the upper gallery. With a wave of her hand she was engulfed in a swirling white mist, transporting herself to the lower level and manifesting right in front of Cassidy.
"Yes, Neal," she clipped out venomously. "I was rightfully yours once. To have and to hold, for better or worse, but those vows mattered naught to you, did they? No amount of fight you might be able to muster now, even if you somehow found the courage to take up a blade and challenge Hook to a duel, would matter one bit when I did not matter enough for you to fight for each and every day of our marriage."
Cassidy cowered. The impact of her words, in addition to the power radiating off her in waves of potency and strength as her magic reprimanded him in kind, was a sight to be seen and one Hook could not help but be drawn to, approaching until he stood directly behind her.
"You took me for granted, and traded me away like an object to barter with," she continued, the swell of her magic intensifying until it flickered between her fingertips. "Well, I will not be bartered with again. I have no intentions of returning to you. Ever. Your debt is your own. I have my own deal with the Dark One to satisfy."
Turning on her heel she stopped short, surprised by his proximity. Her breath caught, and the evidence of her magic tempestuously illuminating her hands began to fade as his own magic responded to hers, insisting upon dealing with the man, seeing as vengeance was his grounding emotion, not hers.
"Do with him as you will," Swan said, brushing past him without going far.
Still cowering, Cassidy began to tremble at the prospect of being dragged away towards the Dark One's dungeons, but Hook no longer relished the idea of having the man at his mercy. In fact, Hook wanted nothing more to do with the man, and wished to ensure Emma never did as well.
"I think," Hook drawled, a deliciously devious idea coming to mind, "seeing as how I still have the benefit you provided me the last time you were in my debt, I can be persuaded to forgive the taxes you owe me." Before either Swan or Cassidy could respond to such an astounding statement, he added, "However… there is still the matter of the amount owed to the Queen, and I wouldn't dare to presume how she would wish for such a debt to be handled, so…"
"No! You can't!" Cassidy pleaded. "The Queen, she'll… she'll take my heart. Crush it or use it to strip me of my free will!" Casting desperate eyes toward Swan, he begged, "Emma, please. Don't let him do this to me."
"Don't worry," Swan soothed, making her way towards him, then placing a hand at his chest. A soft glow emanated from her palm and enveloped Cassidy, pulling a startled gasp from him.
"What did you do?" he demanded, reaching up and rubbing his chest as though feeling for some evidence of malfeasance.
"My magic is rooted in an instinct to protect," she explained, a little too innocently and forthcoming. "So, I cast a protection spell over your heart so the Queen cannot take it from you."
"How dare you?" Cassidy sneered disdainfully. "How dare you use your magic on me without my consent. You're no better than him."
Jutting his chin towards Hook, he gave them both a disgusted look, his hand still draped over the heart his wife had just safe-guarded, and the Darkness hissed for Hook to end the fool then and there. The Dark One knew there was no need for that, however. Cassidy's fate had been sealed. All that remained was to deliver him to that fate, which he gladly did with a flick of his wrist, sending the man across the realm to Her Majesty's castle.
For a moment, Hook worried whether Swan would be upset over his swift action, denying her the opportunity to respond or utter any sort of parting words. Swan's shoulders relaxed and a sigh of relief labored from her chest, reassuring him of his rash act, and never before had he sensed such freedom from her when she took in a deep breath and adjusted her posture with fresh confidence.
"I take it your and Mrs. Cassidy's business with Mr. Cassidy has been concluded, my Lord?" his Steward inquired from the doorway of the hall.
"Yes," Swan replied before Hook had a chance to form the word. "And my name is no longer Cassidy. Please refer to me as Miss Swan for the duration of my stay, Steward."
Nodding his understanding, the Steward departed, along with the guards, while Swan's words filled Hook with something he had not felt in an age. Hope.
"For the duration of your stay?" he repeated back to her. "Does that mean you've decided to remain here after all?"
Wetting her lips, she pulled the lower between her teeth, mulling his question before replying, "Only until our deal is complete." Swallowing, she added, "I would not want those other deals to become void because I did not honor mine, so… I'll stay this final month and attempt to perform the task you have intended for me."
Hook had not even considered such an outcome, that the carefully constructed deals, satisfied through the loophole of her training, might be nullified should she leave. Of course the saviour tendencies of her magic would have made such a risk obvious to her, prompting her to remain in order to protect those who thought their agreements fulfilled.
"After that," she continued, "I'll take the compensation you offered and strike out on my own."
"Well, then," Hook said as a state of disarray and upheaval surged through the various aspects of his nature. "I suppose, the time has come for me to reveal the task in question."
"Now?" Emma exclaimed. "You… you think I am ready?"
"Aye," he murmured. "I think you have proven yourself more than up to the task. Shall we adjourn to my workshop?"
"Actually," she replied, grasping his wrist before he could whisk them back to the tower. "I'd hoped you would do something for me."
"What's that, love?"
"The farm," she stated. "The one Neal and I… I want the lad's family to have it. The landlord is fair, and I think it would be a good fresh start for them. Can you make the arrangements?" A sly and slightly wicked smirk lifted the corner of her mouth as she quipped, "I don't think Neal will have much use for it after the Queen is finished with him."
"Aye, I can see to the matter for you," Hook promised, matching her smirk as he informed her, "You know, Swan. I'm not sure you did Cassidy much of a favor by casting that protection spell."
"Oh?" she replied, her brows raised in virtuous curiosity. "How's that?"
Pressing his tongue to the back of his teeth, Hook tilted his head and took a measured step forward as suspicion began to creep in. "When Regina discovers she cannot remove the heart of her newest plaything, she's liable to become quite murderous and inflict an even greater severity upon him."
"Really?" Emma gasped, unconvincingly, the coy glimmer in her eye betraying her as much as her tone. "I had not even considered such a thing."
A dark chuckle worked its way up Hook's throat. The little minx had found a way to use her light magic, meant to save and protect, in order to mete out her own sense of vengeance. Wagging his finger at her, Hook praised, "I always knew there was a little darkness in you, Swan." The moment the words left his tongue he regretted them, but Swan seemed to take them in stride.
"You're right," she professed. "I suppose we are all susceptible to succumbing to our darker side from time to time." Her eyes locked onto his, piercing him with a gaze that peered into his very soul. "Which is why, given what you told me earlier, about your humanity and wanting to find ways around the stipulations the Darkness has placed on your magic, from now on… I'm going to choose to see the best in you."
Hook did not know how to respond to that. Wasn't even certain he had breath enough left in his lungs to respond. While the man he used to be delighted in the confidence her words carried, the Darkness chafed and scoffed, scathingly reminding him of what an untrustworthy bastard he'd been over the centuries.
Even now, it sneered, you are not planning to tell her the whole truth behind the purpose of the task you are about to reveal. You may have fooled her into trusting you, but we all know you are incapable of returning that trust. Why else have you waited so long to disclose the item and the others involved in your ultimate end game? I'll tell you why… because you know what it will cost her, what it will cost you both, and you have not the courage to see it through.
"Hook?" Swan's voice cut through the grating words of the Darkness, and her hand wrapped once more around his wrist, tightening with concern. "Are you alright?"
"Aye," he assured her, twisting his wrist so her hand fell into his. "There's something I need to show you." With a wave of his hook, he transported them back to his workshop, fearful the Darkness may be right.
~/~
The decadent and sultry undertones of dark enchantment enveloped her the moment they returned to Hook's workshop. Danger laced with intrigue radiated from a number of points within the room, once again casting a heady effect upon her as she tried to get her bearings. The Dark One's aura could be felt throughout the castle, traces of it lingering in all the places he frequented, but no location was as permeated as this. Much like the man himself, Emma found it to be overwhelmingly intoxicating, in spite of the warnings of peril such aspects gave off, and she had to fight to keep herself and her magic tightly reined.
Difficult to do when she had the added distraction of his physical touch - her hand still wrapped in his - to compound the feelings wrecking havoc within her.
Gently, he tugged on her hand, leading her over to a glass case she'd spied earlier. When he released her hand she had the inexplicable compulsion to reestablish contact, but instead focused all her attention on the action of him removing his hook from its brace. Turning it round, he inserted the base into the lock of the cabinet and a gasp fell from her lips when she realized it served as a key.
Swinging the doors wide, Emma was able to take a better look at the items within: a broken sword with a grand hilt, a dusty looking rock, and a dagger with a strange scalloped blade. It took her a moment to register the matching pattern of the dagger and sword blades, as well as the fact that something was etched into the surface of the former. Hook stepped aside, allowing her greater access to the items, and she could now see that it was a name scripted upon the dagger. Reaching forward, she took hold of it, hoping to be able to read it more clearly, only vaguely aware of the way Hook had gone completely rigid beside her.
"Killian Jones." When the words whispered over her lips Hook sucked in an audibly startled breath, pulling her gaze towards him. "Who is Killian Jones, and why do you have his dagger?"
Hook's Adam's apple bobbed and his chest labored for the expanse of a few breaths before he answered, "I am Killian Jones. Or I was once. The blade is mine, or rather, it is the dagger of the Dark One. The source of my damnation."
A sense of foolishness washed over Emma. Of course his name wasn't really Hook. Why had that never occurred to her before now?
"The moniker came about in response to my… well, you know." Removing the hook from the lock, he clicked it back into his brace, then plucked the stone from the shelf.
"What do you mean, the source of your damnation?" Emma asked, sensing he no longer wished to speak any further on the matter of his name.
His eyes flicked to the dagger, still gripped in her hand, and she could now feel the guarded and uneasy turmoil afflicting him.
"It is the source of the Darkness' power and what keeps me tethered to it," he informed her, a reluctance twisting in his features as he forced out the rest of his explanation. "But it also acts as a counter balance to its power."
"How so?"
Again, he swallowed heavily, his jaw clenching with a pulsating flicker before he ground out, "It wields its own brand of control over us." His gaze fell to the blade and a glimmer of something foreign and corrupt briefly sneered through his features before he forced his eyes shut and imparted, "When you are in possession of that blade, I am yours to command. It is also the only weapon in all the realms with the power to kill me, but anyone who uses it to end my life will find themselves the new host of the Darkness."
The weight of the dagger seemed heavier now in Emma's hand. The idea that the ability to not only control but to kill such a formidable figure as the Dark One resided within a simple blade was astounding.
"So, I could make you do anything?" Emma inquired. "Even something good? Something that wouldn't require a deal or some other terrible price?"
His eyes turned pleading, perhaps even a little fearful. "While your motives might be pure at the outset, the dagger has a corruptible quality," he warned. "It seeks out the wielder's own natural darkness and exploits it bit by bit."
"But surely, if one's intentions are for good they would realize if-"
"Darkness is a funny thing," Hook clipped out fervently. "It creeps up in you, and before you know it, you're a slave to the Darkness every bit as much as I am." He took a step forward and lightly grasped her wrist. "I know it's tempting, darkness always is, but please, love. Resist it."
Opening her grip, she allowed Hook to take the dagger back, wondering at the depth of his words and whether he meant to apply them to more than just the allure of the dagger. "Why couldn't you?"
Placing the blade on the shelf, his shoulders rose and fell with resignation. "I did not know the full consequences of my actions when I pulled the dagger from Rumplestiltsin's belt and plunged it into his gut, but even if I had… I had nothing more to live for." Shaking off the pall of the moment, Hook turned and held up the stone. "But this is what I brought you here to see," he said, dropping the rock into her palm.
"What is it?" Emma turned the stone over in her hands. It looked almost volcanic in nature and an almost imperceptible warmth radiated from deep within it.
"It is an ember from the Promethean Flame," he told her. "The last remaining vestiges of the fire stolen from the gods."
"And what am I supposed to do with it?"
"Light it."
Emma's head snapped up, her eyes wide with shock. "Light it? How?"
"Well, given that matches have failed to do the trick, I was thinking you could use your magic," he quipped, a taunting smirk lifting the corner of his mouth. "Only light magic can spark the ember to life, but it must take a considerable force."
"Why do you say that?"
His expression became resistant once more, his words weighed carefully as he said, "Perhaps I should begin by telling you the full story of the Flame and how it relates to the overarching purpose I'm seeking."
Gesturing towards a settee, they both sat and Emma called upon all her patience as she listened to him without interruption as he wove the tale. He told her of Merlin, the greatest sorcerer of his time, and how he had forged the sword Excalibur, using the Promethean Flame, from the Grail that gave everlasting life to all those who drank it.
"Camelot was a lawless and wicked place back then," he explained. "Without a king and suffering through neverending wars between greedy lords who would see themselves upon the throne. Merlin knew that only someone capable of checking their own selfish desires would be able to restore balance to the kingdom, and in a sense, that's what Excalibur was."
"Balance?"
"Aye. The pommel and hilt were where justice and goodness resided, while the blade had been imbued with the power to absorb the evils of war, vengeance, and murder, leaving the wielder of the sword untainted. Thus Arthur, proven the rightful king of Camelot after he'd pulled the sword from the stone Merlin had embedded it in as a test, was able to bring peace to his kingdom without tarnishing himself. The sword helped to keep his heart pure during the skirmishes and uprisings he had to face while establishing himself as sovereign, and for a time Camelot was a utopian state."
"But then something happened," Emma said, knowing there had to have been an event that caused the blade to shatter.
"Even the greatest of heroes can succumb to darkness under the right circumstances," he sighed.
Hook went on to tell of Guinevere, a noblewoman who had won Arthur's heart, and her lady's maid, Nimue, who had captured the attention of Merlin. Both men had become hopelessly smitten with their respective ladies, to the point they did not see the deception and duplicity happening right beneath their noses.
"Nimue had been a refugee," Hook informed her. "Her family was cast out of Camelot during one of the campaigns to establish Arthur's rule. She blamed him for their suffering and had come to Camelot with vengeance in her heart."
"What did she do?"
"She encouraged an affair between Queen Guinevere and one of Arthur's knights, Lancelot, hoping to disgrace and humiliate the king while proving the subjects of Camelot weren't as noble as they claimed. When Arthur discovered the treachery, he dueled Lancelot, but instead of ending his life, he showed mercy. Incensed and enraged, Nimue took Excalibur and threatened Guinevere's life. The men tried to talk her down. Merlin begged her to let her hatred go and accept his love instead, but her thirst for revenge was greater than any love she might have felt for him. She ran Guinevere through then smashed the blade against the very stone Arthur had once pulled it free from."
Emma gasped, her hand flying up to throat in shock and despair. "She killed her queen and destroyed Excalibur?"
"Aye," he exhaled heavily, the word strained with anger and resentment. "And thus sealed her fate, and many others' to come."
"What do you mean?"
"Destroying the sword released the darkness it had collected over the years. Without the balance of the hilt and pommel to counteract its power, it was free to rain down misery and devastation upon anyone and anything, completely unrestrained. That is, until Merlin deduced what must be done."
Hook let out a shaky breath, and Emma couldn't even imagine what it was costing him to tell her all of this. How the Darkness would most likely wish to keep every word unspoken and all knowledge of its origins concealed.
"He knew the only way to contain the Darkness was to tether it to a living host and bind it to the blade. At first, he attempted to use the section that remained fixed to the hilt and pommel, but his effort failed. So he fashioned the dagger from the end of the blade and used it to create the first Dark One… Nimue."
"He condemned the woman he loved?" Emma exclaimed, not wishing to believe such a thing no matter how awful Nimue's actions had been.
"She condemned herself in a way," Hook replied. "When she took up Excalibur with malice in her heart to commit murder then smashed it out of spite."
Running a hand through his hair, Hook glanced over at the shelf where the broken pieces of the sword were stored, a shudder running the length of his spine. Emma reached over and took his hook in her hand. His head snapped back, startled and astounded, as his gaze lingered on the way her fingers curled around the crook of his namesake. For long moments, neither of them spoke as their magic swelled and crackled through the atmosphere. A warmth began to intensify in Emma's hand and she remembered the ember. Opening her palm she looked down at the innocuous stone resting in her hand and sensed Hook's eyes had dropped to it as well.
"What does the ember have to do with any of this?" she asked softly. "And why do you need me to light it?"
Hook picked up the stone, his fingertips grazing against her palm sent a ripple of wonder up her arm, and rolled it against the pads of his fingers.
"It was never Merlin's intention to leave his beloved in such a pitiful state, filled with Darkness and bound to the blade he had enchanted in order to control her. You see, he planned to fix the sword, using the Flame to reforge the pieces back together and thereby…"
"And thereby, what?" she inquired when the words seemed to get stuck in his throat.
His brow pinched together, and his lip curled into a snarl before he closed his eyes, squeezing them tightly, then opening them again to impart, "Vanquishing the Darkness forever."
Emma's mouth fell open and her heart nearly stopped. "Vanquish the Darkness? You mean… you could be rid of it? Why then did Merlin never-"
"Nimue," Hook growled. "She learned what Merlin planned to do and sought to stop him. Stole the ember and tossed the broken end of the sword into a lake, where it remained for millennia." Palming the stone, he reached up and scratched behind his ear. "Until I made a deal with a mermaid to go and fetch it for me." Clearing his throat, he swallowed guiltily and continued on, "Once I had all the pieces I needed, it was just a matter of lighting the Flame, but according to Merlin's writings, that could only be done with light magic. So, I… started collecting it."
Emma's eyes went wide. "That's why Neal offered you my magic. He knew you'd accepted it as payment before."
"Aye, I had," he confessed. "I did not want to risk others knowing of the dagger, so I extracted light magic in trade, or as payment of a deal, and attempted to use it to light the Flame on my own. But without it being anchored to my heart, tethered to a grounding emotion, it would burn away before I could achieve the task."
"But you kept trying," Emma stated, remembering the stories she'd heard and finally understanding his motives, or at least… she thought she did.
"Not solely for the purpose of lighting the Flame," he admitted, causing her brows to furrow in confusion. "You see, I discovered that internalizing light magic helped to keep the Darkness at bay. It allowed me to feel… more like myself and loosened some of the restraint the Darkness had on my magic. That, and the prospect of… freeing myself from it completely, caused me to seek out light magic wherever I could, to the point of…"
"To the point of what?"
Again, his eyes fell shut and his jaw tightened, a shuddering breath heaving from his chest as he took a moment to collect himself. "Nevermind," he whispered. "It isn't important." Emma wanted to protest, sensing it was, in fact, very important, but she held her tongue and allowed him to continue. "What is important, is I believe your magic to be powerful enough to light the Flame. Once done, Excalibur can be reforged and…"
"You can be free."
His eyes fell to the side, suddenly unable to hold her gaze as he wet his lips and softly replied, "Aye."
Taking the ember from him, Emma held it up to study it. "What must I do?"
Lifting his gaze to where the ember rested in her grip, Hook imparted, "A pure pulse of light magic, free of fear and self-doubt is required. Merlin mentions a few key components in his writings. I thought you could start there and with any luck, you'd be able to not only light the Flame but assist me in restoring Excalibur before the month is out and our deal is at an end."
Emma swallowed, the scope of her task hitting her full force as she considered the implications of her success. What it would mean to free Hook of the Darkness, to rid the realms of its corruptive influence forever. "You really think I can do this?" she asked, suddenly filled with nothing but self-doubt.
A sensation that could not stand up to the certainty she saw reflected in Hook's eyes as he murmured, "Aye, love. I have yet to see you fail.
~/~
Frustration flared within Emma, sparking her anger while leaving the ember completely untouched. Over the course of the fortnight since the Dark One had revealed the task to her, Emma had struggled to make sense of Merlin's instructions and every attempt she'd made to light the Promethean Flame had gone up in proverbial smoke. To make matters worse, Hook had become an unpredictable pendulum swinging from one emotional apex to another, oscillating between confident encouragement and churlish ridicule. Half the time she never knew whether he truly wanted her to succeed or not, but she supposed she could not blame his duality. Surely the Darkness must be launching a full assault against him, desperate self-preservation warring against the decision he'd made in which he'd enlisted her help.
Perhaps that was a good sign? Would the Darkness be trying so hard to thwart her efforts if it didn't think her capable of achieving the goal? Would Hook be fighting so hard to keep it and his own darkness at bay if he did not truly believe in her?
She just wished their beliefs and assertions were enough to convince herself.
Focusing all her efforts once more, Emma tried to expel these doubts and harness her magic towards a single purpose, willing the damn stone to light. After several minutes of straining, another agitated sound growled from her chest as she plucked the stone from the worktable and poofed herself out of the tower.
"This is hopeless," she declared, arriving in their joint bedroom and slamming the infernal ember onto the desk Hook was sitting at. "I'll never be able to light this damn thing."
"Yes, you will, Swan," Hook sighed, all too familiar with her fatalistic outbursts. "You just have to-"
"Don't tell me to focus!" she snapped, disappearing behind her changing screen so she could ready herself for bed. "All I've done is focus!"
"Perhaps we should forget the whole thing then."
"No!" she protested, slipping her nightgown over her head and chastising herself. As much as she wanted to be honest about her struggles, she didn't want to give the Darkness any ammunition to use against the scheme. "I'm… I'm sorry. It's just…"
"Just what, love?"
Knowing she couldn't back out of the conversation now, Emma inhaled deeply and fortified herself. While he seemed in an agreeable mood, more Killian Jones - the persona she now equated with the part of him that regarded her with kindness, encouragement, and good form; the part of himself he would identify as his humanity - than Hook or the Dark One, she knew the Darkness was still there, whispering its arguments and rebuttals in an attempt to undermine her efforts.
"It's just that it's a lot of pressure. Knowing this is what you need done in order to be free of the Darkness and not being able to do it."
"You needn't twist yourself in knots over it, Swan," he replied, the scraping of his chair indicating he'd risen from the desk, the soft patter of footfalls making their way towards her. "Even if you are unable to light the flame before the end of our agreement, I assure you I'll uphold my end of the bargain."
Emma rolled her eyes and tightened the belt of her dressing robe as she emerged from behind the screen. "That's not… I know you'll keep up your end of things, I just…"
Her words fell away when she found herself standing in front of him. His gossamer thin blouse was unbuttoned down to his navel, his waistcoat and jacket long removed, along with his boots, and his suspenders draped at his sides, his near state of undress causing her to lose her train of thought for a moment. Her prolonged silence had Hook raising his brows expectantly, the tilt of his head quietly repeating his previous inquiry.
Swallowing past the bolt of lust that had made her throat go dry, Emma tentatively wet her lips and brushed past him. "I want to help you," she said, willing her magic to behave as it began to tingle in her fingertips, wanting to flirt with his. "I want to help you rid yourself of the Darkness, but I'm not sure I can do-" she gestured vaguely towards the stone still sitting on the desk. "-this."
Turning her attention back to him, she ignored the allure and attraction simmering in her blood and faced him with a furrowed brow, beset with an earnest, if not slightly desperate, pinch. "Isn't there another way? I've heard tales of magic powerful enough to break curses. Surely we could try one of those."
"Perhaps," he imparted, a measure of melancholy lacing his tone, "if the Darkness were actually a curse."
"Isn't it?"
"Not in the true sense of the word, no. Curses befall those undeserving of such a fate." He made his way over to the window, his gaze lost in the blackness of night that lay beyond the pane of glass, and something in his voice made Emma's heart constrict. "We, however… those of us who have been consumed by the Darkness and filled with its corruption, we were all deserving of the fate that befell us when we allowed anger, or hate, or vengeance, or greed, or fear compell us towards murder. We are not innocent bystanders, tragically doomed to carry the weight of our own affliction due to someone else's malice. The malice was our own. So while being the Dark One might feel like a curse, in truth, it is our eternal damnation, well and truly earned."
Having approached him during his recitation, Emma wrapped her hand around his arm and lightly tugged, prompting him to face her, though he resisted, and said, "I don't believe that."
The shift in him was unmistakable. One moment his magic had been responding to the comfort of hers, his countenance practically pleading for the solace of her presence, then something snatched his magic back from hers and his bearing stiffened with an agitated aura.
"It doesn't really matter what you believe," he clipped out between grit teeth. "It's true."
"Maybe it was true once," she argued. "Maybe it was even true for centuries, but not any longer. You've changed."
"Not that much. Not enough to deserve saving."
Yanking harder on his arm she managed to get him turned back around, the sinister glimmer she'd seen before slithered across his features but within his forget-me-not eyes she could still see the remnants of Killian Jones, battling to maintain control.
"I dare say the lad and his family would argue otherwise," she reminded him. "As well as the widow whose husband you still have preserved in your workshop as you tirelessly seek a way in which his soul might be restored." The more she defended him the angrier he seemed to get, his hand balled into a fist at his side, his jaw ticking away like mad, and his lip twitching into a sneer while his eyes refused to meet the earnest and fervent gaze of her own. "There is still goodness in you, Killian." His entire body trembled at the sound of his name, and for a moment she thought the tide might be turning. "My first night here," she continued on. "You could have done anything to me, but you didn't."
His gaze finally rose to meet hers and something unexpected within it made her take several steps back.
"That's your proof," he scoffed viciously. "I must be good somewhere deep, deep down because I didn't force myself on you?" Again, a battle of wills played out across his features and within his eyes. He rolled his neck, his eyes closing briefly before they opened again and he stalked towards her like a predator eyeing its prey. "Well, then allow me to disabuse you of that notion."
Hook's hand darted out and he grabbed her by the back of the neck. Forcefully, he spun her around and pushed her down, bending her over the bed with his hand still braced against the back of her neck. With his hook, he gathered the hem of her nightgown and lifted it up until her backside was fully exposed, then he used his namesake to tear away the fabric that protected her sex. He slid his foot between her own, coercing her legs apart and into a wider stance before he leaned over, plastering himself to her back, to growl in her ear.
"Tell me to stop. Beg me to stop."
The entire scene had caused her pulse to quicken, but not in fear, and on the pant of her breath she replied, "No."
She felt him retreat ever so slightly, an incredulity betraying his words as he demanded, "Why not?"
It was long past time she admitted how she felt, if not to him then to herself. Ever since she'd caught him that night months ago, brushing his rough fingertips against the soft expanse of her breasts, teasing her nipple and stirring her passions with his touch while the allure of his magic awakened her own she'd wanted nothing more than to repeat the experience. Repeat it and see to it he didn't leave her in longing again.
Lifting her hips, she pressed her backside into his groin, brushing against the prominent bulge she could feel behind the closure of his trousers and confessed, "I don't want you to stop."
An involuntary groan rumbled in his chest, his warm breath catching against her ear. "You will," he promised darkly, peeling himself off her, but not before rolling his hips and causing her own moan of pleasure to muffle into the bed covers.
"Before all is said and done-" his calloused hand skimmed over the smooth surface of her ass, causing the fine hairs of her body to stand at attention and in anticipation, "-you'll be pleading for the torment to end. I can promise you that." A startled hiss laced with a wanton sound she'd never before heard herself utter, fell from her lips when he sealed the vow with a firm slap to her backside.