AN: Holy hell, this chapter took AWHILE between the holidays and one very uncooperative muse. But we're finally here! I'm so sick of looking at these words, guys, haha
My undying love and thanks goes to spartanguard for literally being the world's best beta. Y'all truly don't know what I put her through, haha I also want to thank distant-rose for the idea on how to operate the 'sky' in the Underworld, letting me leech off her vast pirate ship knowledge, and for being an all around kick ass cheerleader. The same goes to xpumpkingdumplingx. Thank you for lending me your ear, being my biggest cheerleader, and telling me when flow is fine even when I think it's not. ohmightydevviepuu - your support during the process of getting this chapter written has been invaluable, and thank you for quieting my inner editor on numerous occasions, most particularly with this first scene! Phiralovesloki continues to be a rock solid source of support and letting me, quite literally, word vomit a problem to her and helping me realize I was Making Things More Difficult For Myself. And last, but certainly not least, thank you ive-always-been-a-pirate for patiently answering any and all of my randomly thrown in Hades questions.
As always, enjoy, and reviews feed the muse!
Chapter 10: Into the Depths of Hades
Darkness. That was all Erin could see as she opened her eyes.
Depthless and infinite, it surrounded her almost palpably, like the dark void was a living, breathing entity. Panic surged sharply within her along with the hum of her magic as it instinctively tried to respond to her trepidation, and Erin fought to keep both from overwhelming her. It was only darkness. She kept repeating that mantra over and over again in her mind while taking slow, measured breaths. Clearly it was nighttime wherever she was, and that was not a reason to be afraid or lose control of her magic. Her eyes would eventually adjust, night would recede with the dawning of the sun, and she'd laugh at her initial reaction.
Besides, it wasn't like she had never been in this situation before. Images of Neverland's eternal night flickered through her mind, and for perhaps the first time in her life, the memory of that cursed island calmed her racing heart.
With the hum of her magic also receding beneath the banishment of fear, Erin turned her attention to her surroundings. Although her eyes still hadn't adjusted to the all-encompassing darkness—if they ever did, given the lack of celestial light—she thankfully still had her other senses to rely on. The ground beneath her back was hard and uneven. She could feel a combination of tiny rocks and what she assumed was grass beneath her hands, the blades coarse and brittle as if they hadn't seen water in some time. She could hear the wind steadily blowing above her prone position, and on its invisible waves came the most unpleasant smell of sulfur, metal, and fire. It was a combination that caused Erin's nose to involuntarily wrinkle and her stomach to churn before it was gone as quickly as it had come, replaced with dry and earthly scents.
She'd rather spend an entire month scrubbing hers, Eric's and her father's ships daily than smell whatever that had been again.
"D'Harper?"
His name was whispered into the impenetrable blackness surrounding her, yet no response came.
"D'Harper?"
He's probably laying a yard or two away and was knocked out upon landing like I was, Erin thought after a long moment of heavy silence. He would either come too soon or she'd find him by blindly groping around once she managed to get on her feet.
Groaning, she gave herself a quick perusal. Nothing seemed to have broken in her fall through the portal, though there was an overall ache to her body and slight throbbing at the back of her skull that denoted the beginnings of a headache. No doubt from how hard I hit the ground, she thought, wincing slightly as she bent her stiff legs and planted both feet firmly on the ground.
She was going to murder whoever tethered her to a bloody portal.
Erin had instantly known what was going on when she felt herself being tugged towards the swirling blue mass after the shockwave had knocked her backwards. Almost two decades of magic tutelage beneath her mother and occasionally Regina had supplied her with the knowledge that the only form of magic that gave off that unique feeling of being yanked towards something was a tethering spell. Why someone would do it—or even who—was a mystery to her, as was the burning sensation she'd felt in her stomach mere seconds before the spell took effect. As far as she knew, that wasn't a normal side effect of the spell.
That, however, was a worry for another day. Her pressing concern at the moment was trying to find Eric in the darkness, figure out where the portal had taken them, and let her family know they were okay. At least I have the means to do the last one, she thought while gingerly digging into an outer vest pocket.
From the moment her fingers touched the token her Uncle Will had given her years ago, however, she knew something was wrong. Jefferson's token had been imbued with Wonderland's unique magic, yet she couldn't feel the familiar warmth or hum that usually emitted from it. In fact, the coin-like medallion was as cold as ice, as if it were nothing more than an ordinary badge. Running her thumb along the raised hat design that she knew was stamped onto its bright blue surface, Erin called forth her own magic to detect its magic and raised her eyebrows in the pitch darkness when she couldn't find any.
"What the bloody hell?"
The only reason the token wouldn't emit its own magic was if she were somewhere that prevented it from doing so, which was an extremely disconcerting thought considering how powerful Wonderland's magic was. What confused her was why the realm would cancel out the token's magic but not her own. As far as she knew, if a realm was protected against magic, it should hinder all types of magic that fell within it, not just some.
"I guess that isn't an option," Erin muttered quietly as she replaced the token back in her pocket.
Not being able to use the token was only a minor set back, at least. While it would have been nice to let her family know they were alive and—for the moment—okay, it wasn't like Jefferson's token acted as locator beacon. They could hold an entire conversation across multiple realms with it, but the token wouldn't tell Jefferson where to come rescue them from.
It just meant they were, effectively, on their own in finding a way back home.
The sudden appearance of light high above her had Erin startling in surprise, and it took her longer than it should have to realize the light source was a moon. Full and luminous, it hung amidst a canopy of stars that were now visible to her, the clouds that had hidden them rolling away to reveal the celestial splendors as if by divine command. I'm definitely somewhere I've never been before, she thought while scanning the night sky. There were clusters of stars that were clearly shaped to be constellations, but none of them were familiar to her. With moonlight now piercing what had been an endless, black void, Erin turned her head to the side to get her first look at the world she'd landed in and screamed.
There, a mere foot from where she lay, rested a human skull on its side. It was hauntingly white in the moonlight, its empty eye sockets seeming to stare right into her very soul as its mouth opened on a silent scream.
She didn't try to tamper down the fear that shot through her this time. It flowed unchecked, and she forgot all about her aching body in her mad scramble to get away from what remained of another human being. She'd only gone a few feet, however, when she collided with something. A swift turn showed more bones, this time an entire human skeleton with bits of tattered clothing clinging to it, and Erin quickly jerked her body away.
Where in Hera's divine grace was she?
With her heart hammering frantically against her chest, Erin stood on trembling legs and looked out over the moonlit terrain. She was in an enormous mountain pass. The naturally forming gap that cut through the range of mountains around her spanned half a mile wide and stretched as far as she could see in either direction, its natural formation jagged and winding like a river. The mountains themselves were vast, their black masses looming over her and reaching hundreds of miles into the night sky. It looked like any other pass she'd seen in her travels—save for the human remains strewn across its floor. They were everywhere. Some were full skeletons, their limbs at odd and grotesque angles which spoke of a violent death, while others were only random pieces. Skulls, the intact bones of arms and legs, and even entire rib cages lay scattered and unattached. She was standing in what amounted to a literal graveyard, and the sight unnerved her far more than she was willing to admit.
It was in that heart pounding, horror-filled moment that Erin realized she was alone.
Breath catching uncomfortably in her throat, she spun around in place as she scanned her immediate area once again. No, that wasn't right. She couldn't be alone. Eric had been holding onto her leg when the dagger she'd plunged into the grass to anchor them had been ripped up from the force of the spell and sent her into the portal. She could even remember seeing glimpses of him as they wildly tumbled through the electric blue cyclone. He should have exited the portal close to where she had, and yet he was nowhere to be seen.
"D'Harper?"
Only the wind answered her desperate call, and Erin was moving before her mind had even registered that she was.
"Eric!"
All thoughts for her own safety vanished as she ran. She didn't care if her frantic shouts attracted the attention of a horde of hidden enemies and brought them barrelling down on her. The human bones strewn about were a bleak and stark indicator that whatever realm they had ended up in wasn't a particularly friendly one. After all, dozens and dozens of skeletons didn't collect in one area like this by a natural occurrence. They had either been dumped here or killed where they lay by someone—or something—and both scenarios, coupled with Eric's disappearance, filled her with an unspeakable dread.
She needed to find him. That was the only thing that mattered.
Erin ran for what felt like hours, her boots thudding heavily against the ground and voice periodically ringing out in the night air as she called for Eric. She ran until she physically couldn't anymore, her lungs and thighs burning heavily with the effort, and when every breath she took was accompanied by a stabbing pain in her side she turned around and went back the way she had come. Over a mile in either direction from where she'd woken was covered, her eyes searching for him amidst the human remains with a desperation she hadn't felt since Maleficent appeared in a snowy courtyard six years ago.
And then she spotted it. There, no more than twenty feet northwest of where she'd landed, and almost hidden within the shadows of the mountain, lay a large pool of blood. Glinting wetly in the moonlight, it stained the dying grass and small pebbles like a horrific painting. The panic that had been slowly building the longer she went without stumbling across any sign of Eric suddenly began to suffocate her as she stared at the freshly spilled blood, and Erin wearily sank to her knees.
No, no, no, no, no!
There was no way to know for certain if the blood was Eric's, but whose else could it possibly be? Every other being within the mountain pass—aside from herself—was nothing more than bones. He would have been the only other person who could have bled...
Erin's breath caught harshly in her throat.
He was gone.
Hundreds of images flashed through her mind as tears began to blur her vision. Eric covered in blood with gaping wounds, him being tortured by a faceless assailant, his body lying somewhere broken and lifeless, fated to turn to bones just like the human remains that surrounded her… Each one was more horrible than the last, a litany of the worst case scenarios that were fueled by the utter despair clawing at her. She tried to stifle it, to remain stoic and clear headed, but it was too much. Waking up alone in an unknown and hostile realm with no means to contact her family, the fact that someone had tethered her to a portal, the physical toil their three day journey to Camelot had incurred, her emotional exhaustion, Eric's absence and more than likely ill fate—it all combined into an upwelling of raw emotion that she let consume her with a gut wrenching sob. She succumbed to it, letting it burn her from the inside out with its intensity.
Her mind was so consumed with hopelessness that she didn't even care about the skeleton laying a mere two feet from her as she collapsed into the fetal position.
This was what she had spent the last six months fearing. This was why she'd barely let him out of her sight when they were beyond the safety of her home. She'd lost sight of him for just a moment and now he was gone, severely injured and more than likely taken by whoever had left the bodies in the mountain pass to rot. Tears spilled unchecked from Erin's eyes as she brokenly cried into the ground.
"I'm so sorry, Eric."
She wasn't sure what sin she was apologizing for. Whether it was failing to be there for him when he needed her, keeping him at arm's length, never admitting her wrong with how she'd acted the morning after the ball, or a combination of all three. All she knew was that this was her fault. If she hadn't pulled away from him there wouldn't have been a divide between them on the journey to Camelot, and she wouldn't have accepted him trailing behind her at the portal so readily. Under normal circumstances she would have put up more of a fight when he made the suggestion, but she'd been so desperate for there to be a semblance of normalcy between them again that she'd allowed it with only a few lines of banter thrown between them.
If he hadn't been standing right behind her, Eric never would have been close enough to fall into the portal.
Erin sniffled. "I just want to know that he's okay," she whispered tearfully against the hard and unforgiving ground. "I just… need a sign. Anything."
As soon as the words left her lips Erin felt something within her stir, an almost gentle unfurling that started where her heart lay and slowly wound itself throughout her entire body. It was similar to what she felt when she used her magic yet different—less direct, more subtle—a calming wave instead of intense humming. The sensation was gone as quickly as it had appeared, but in its wake she could feel a steady warmth coming from one of her vest pockets. Confused, Erin reached into the hidden area she had sewn into the inside of all her vests and pulled out the object that was emitting heat.
It was an ordinary doubloon, though not one she would ever use to pay for anything with. She'd kept it from the pile of coins she'd won the night she met Eric in Tortuga and pic pocketed the treasure key off him. At first, she'd told herself it was simply a souvenir of the retrieval. She didn't normally keep trinkets to remember her travels by but it had been the first time she faced a dragon, and she felt the occasion called for it. Of course, it had been an absolute lie. Almost five years later she could admit to herself that she'd kept it not to remember the retrieval, but to remember Eric. He'd intrigued and captivated her from the start—even if she'd told him she couldn't trust him when she left him chained in the dead dragon's lair.
For years it had been safely tucked away in her memory box until her and Liam's journey to the past. She'd grabbed it before they left as a good luck charm, and ever since she'd carried it tucked in a hidden pocket whenever she went on a retrieval.
It had certainly never done this before, however.
The gold coin was warm against the skin of her fingers, as if it had been laying beneath a heart source for an extended amount of time, and there was a faint, white glow surrounding it. When her hand closed tightly around it, she felt the unmistakable sensation of a heart beating. It was an unnerving sensation considering she'd never held another human's heart in her hand. The beating stopped when she opened her hand, and for a moment Erin thought she'd imagined the entire thing until she closed her fist around it again. Thump-thump-thump-thump. No, that was definitely a beating heart, and not her own. The rhyme was steady yet slightly off to hers, the drum-like feeling coming mere seconds after her own heart would beat within her chest.
"This doesn't make sense," Erin murmured. It was just an ordinary coin. Sentimental, perhaps, but there were no magical properties about doubloons from Stormhold that enchanted them with a heart beat.
Unless someone else had enchanted the doubloon.
Like a crack of lightning it hit her, and ignoring the increased pounding at the back of her head Erin scrambled into a sitting position. Doubloons weren't magical, but she was. There had been that odd stirring sensation after she asked for a sign and, though her magic had never felt like that before, it had been an extremely similar feeling to the one she normally felt when she called on it. That's what it had to be. Emotions power magic, and she'd been overcome by hers in that despairing moment. Her magic must have reacted on instinct to it and given her exactly what she pleaded for—a sign that Eric was okay.
A delirious laugh escaped her as she sat looking at her closed hand, the gentle beat continuing to come from the coin. It was him. She was feeling Eric's heart beat. Erin couldn't articulate even in her own mind why she was so certain it was his and not someone else's, yet she knew. She knew with every fiber of her being that it was his. Eric was alive. He was out there somewhere in this gods forsaken realm, undoubtedly hurt, but still alive.
Now she just had to find him.
Wiping the remnants of tears from her cheeks, Erin considered her next course of action. The first thing she had to do was stop the excoriating pounding in her head, which had been exacerbated by adrenaline and all the physical activity she'd pushed her body through since seeing the first piece of human remains. After that, she needed to get off the ground and leave the mountains. She certainly wasn't going to figure out where she was or locate Eric by continuing to sit here, not to mention the danger she was in by remaining in the area. Eric's blood and the human remains surrounding her were a stark warning of that.
Erin's magic hummed within her veins as she placed her free hand at the back of her head, and she sighed in relief as the headache instantly tapered off. She briefly considered getting rid of the rest of her aches but in the end decided to forgo it. None of them were life threatening or would impede her walking, and she needed to conserve every ounce of energy incase she ran into trouble.
Standing, Erin sighed heavily as she looked up and down the pass. She had no way of knowing which way led further into the mountains or out of them, and the night sky was essentially useless since she wasn't even sure which direction was north.
What she wouldn't give for her brother's super power right now.
With one hand still tightly holding onto the doubloon that was pulsing in time with Eric's heart and the other resting on the pommel of her sword, Erin turned away from the pool of blood and began to walk.
Roused from a fitful sleep by the gentle chiming of his brother's antique clock, Killian swung his legs over the side of the narrow bed in his cabin and gave the wooden timepiece a hard smack with his blunted wrist.
He hated using the damn thing for a multitude of reasons. There was something unnatural about being forced awake by melodic chimes rather than whenever his body was naturally inclined to do so, and the soft ticking sound its hands made always drove him insane. Not to mention the clock was over three hundred years old. It required a jarring blow, or several, to dislodge the alarm setting once it had been painstakingly set—a feat that was made all the harder with only one hand—and it now wobbled without a piece of wood being jammed under its back left leg. Using it always left him a tad cranky, but his father-in-law and son would just have to deal with that for the next day if he was going to relieve them from sailing at odd intervals in order to maintain their accelerated speed for Narnia.
Groaning, Killian ran a hand through his already disheveled hair. Gods, he was exhausted. They'd left Misthaven around eight the previous evening, and they'd no sooner lost sight of the castle's lights when David had called first watch by physically manhandling the wheel from Killian's grasp. Under normal circumstances he would have argued with his father-in-law. After all, of the three of them he had the most experience with sailing on very little rest, but the day had been exceedingly draining for him—emotionally, mentally and physically—so he'd trudged off to his cabin without so much as a grumble. That had been six hours ago, and Killian was more than certain he hadn't actually slept more than two of them.
When he did his dreams had been fitful, the image of Erin falling into a fathomless void no matter how many times he reached for her plaguing him again and again. Even awake it haunted him, his daughter's frightened face and desperate pleas seared into his brain from the depths of Morpheus' arms, and guilt churned anew in his gut. Erin and Eric wouldn't be missing in some unknown realm right now if he hadn't sent them to Camelot. Intellectually he knew his reasoning for doing so had been sound. There was no way Emma would have had the strength to withstand that fast paced journey, let alone what was required to search for a magical fingerprint. Nor could he have known that a god had tethered his sons to a portal. Emotionally, however, none of that mattered. All he could think about was how he'd willingly sent his children and Eric straight into Hades' trap.
He'd give anything—including his one remaining hand—if it brought them home safely.
Giving the insufferable clock another vicious smack when it chimed again, Killian quickly pulled on his boots, a clean shirt, and his brace. The small book he made navigational notations in went into his back pocket, and after grabbing his sextant he made his way out of the cabin.
Oil lamps hung along the length of the Jolly Roger as she cut through the open ocean, bathing the enchanted ship in a soft, golden light that almost chased away the impenetrable darkness shrouding them like a blanket. The swaying lanterns had been lit before they had even disembarked from the royal dock in order to alert other ships of their position. The last thing they needed, particularly with the speed they were sailing at, was to have some half-wit of a watchman on another ship miss the Jolly Roger in the pitch blackness and end up causing a collision that could delay them from reaching Narnia sooner—or worse.
Fully exiting the hatch—and grateful he'd had centuries of practice climbing the ladder with a sextant in his one hand—Killian turned towards the helm. David was expertly making minute changes to the ship's wheel to keep them on the course Killian had set, and looked for all the world like he'd been born to sail the high seas rather than herd sheep.
"Sleep well?" his father-in-law asked by way of greeting as Killian came to stop next to him.
"As well as a seal in shark infested waters," he replied, voice rough with sleep.
David nodded, the slightly exhausted look in his own eyes despite having slept between the War Council and them disembarking for Narnia speaking to the depth of his understanding. None of them would get a restful, uninterrupted sleep until Erin and Eric were home.
"Are you feeling any better about what we discussed earlier today?"
Sighing, Killian ran his thumb along the sextant that he still held. "Not particularly, mate."
He hadn't missed the timeline discrepancy in Regina's explanation to Emma the previous morning of when Arthur had received word about the portal, or the fact that his name hadn't been mentioned as the responsible party for sending the kids there. He couldn't understand why David had out right lied to Regina and everyone else that hadn't been in the dining hall the morning they learned of the portal's existence, but Killian had intended to find out as soon as he and Emma returned to Misthaven. While Emma went to the library and updated Snow and Belle on her scrying attempts, Killian had gone in search of his father-in-law.
He'd found David—thanks to the help of a few castle guards—in his official study. The King of Misthaven had clearly been anticipating his arrival as there was no one else in the usually bustling room, and Killian had barely shut the door before David started talking.
"I was wondering how long it would take you to come find me."
"What in the bloody hell were you thinking?" Killian all but snapped as he closed the distance between the study door and David's desk in four quick strides. His emotions were everywhere—worry for his daughter and Eric, anger for sending them there in the first place, confusion at his father-in-law's decision to lie—and it was making him hostile towards the man sitting in front of him in a way that he hadn't been in a very, very long time.
Killian's biting tone, however, didn't seem to phase David as he continued to write on the piece of parchment in front of him.
"I was thinking about protection."
"What does protection have to do with the mess you've made? Because, mate, it will be a mess when I have to tell Emma it was me and not you who sent our kids and Eric to that portal."
"You aren't going to do that."
The authority in David's tone had Killian blinking in surprise. "Pardon me?"
Setting down the quill he'd been writing with, David leaned back in his chair and fixed his son-in-law with the same knowing look he'd given him nearly thirty years ago before Killian could even ask for Emma's hand.
"You didn't tell Emma about the portal before taking her on the trip. I know because she asked me to make sure Liam attended a meeting about the wedding in her absence, one I did in his place. And I'm not judging or berating you for that. In fact, if I were in your position I probably would have made the same call but, Killian, there are consequences to that decision with Erin and Eric now missing. First and foremost being that if Emma knew Percival's report had come in long before the two of you left and the kids didn't have to make the trip, she'd feel guilty for what happened. Or worse, responsible because she was too exhausted to make the journey herself. Emma may be an adult but she's still my daughter, and I will do whatever I have to to protect her, even if it's from something emotionally. So, yes. I lied to everyone and swore Will, Arthur, Henry, and Liam to secrecy about when the report came in order to protect Emma."
It was sound reasoning. He knew his wife well enough to know she would feel responsible if she knew when the report really came in, particularly when he told her why he'd sent the kids to Camelot instead of having them go. That part of his father-in-law's decision he could understand and even supported. What he still couldn't wrap his mind around was why David was shouldering the entire responsibility for the kids being there.
"Dave, I'm completely on board with keeping Emma from feeling guilty, but there's no reason for you to fall on a metaphorical sword alone. Because it will come to that. Emotions will undoubtedly start to run high in this family if we can't locate the kids quickly, and people will look for someone to blame."
David waved off his concern. "I'm the king and one half of the head of this family. It's my responsibility to do so."
"That doesn't mean you have to," Killian argued. "We could say that I suggested Erin go as a way to hone her—"
"No," his father-in-law cut in with a shake of his head. "Even if she hadn't already heard the lie, I wouldn't consider that course either because you need protecting as well."
At his wits end, Killian threw his hand and hook in the air. "Why the bloody hell do I need protecting?"
"Because Emma can't be angry at you for any reason until she gets past whatever she's going through."
Killian, who had bluffed his way out of far more dangerous situations over the course of three centuries, was unable to hide his surprise at those words.
"Pardon?"
David sighed heavily. "You didn't want Will or I to mention to Emma that you had talked to us about her exhaustion. That's not something you do if she is simply not getting enough sleep because she's stressed over Maleficent and the wedding. Why would she care if we knew that? No, something else is causing her to not sleep, am I right?"
He had to give it to his father-in-law—the man was more observant than he let on, or he simply knew Killian that well. Letting out a shuddering breath, he nodded.
"Aye, there is."
"Then you can't fall on that metaphorical sword with me, Killian," David said softly. "Hades is responsible for what's happened, but Emma can't unleash her anger on him right now. Emotions will inevitably run high, as you said. It's human nature to seek someone to blame when you can't physically get ahold of who is responsible. I can carry that burden because I won't have my daughter pushing you away in a fit of unfocused rage when she needs to be leaning on you to get over whatever she's dealing with."
A sudden knock on the study door had David calling out admittance, and Killian swallowed thickly as a member of the castle staff came in to deliver a piece of parchment to David and leave just as quickly as they'd come. His father-in-law would assume Emma was leaning on him for support to deal with her nightmares. It was what they did, after all—or normally did. It wasn't true, of course, but Killian couldn't find a way to correct his friend without unraveling everything.
"I don't expect you to tell me what it is, by the way," David added as he tossed the folded piece of paper onto his desk. "Trust is sacred in a marriage, so I won't ask you to break it. I trust you enough to know that if whatever is going on gets worse, or somehow becomes a physical threat, you'll bring me and Snow into the loop."
Standing, his father-in-law inclined his head towards the door.
"Regina sent word. She's met up with Merlin and they're headed to the portal site now."
Killian had still tried to argue against David's reasoning all the way to the War Room and even for a short time there, but it hadn't done any good. David was, after all, as stubborn as Killian's brother had ever been in life.
"I know you don't agree with my decision, or like keeping things from Emma," David said, pulling Killian from the memory, "But it really is for the best right now."
Knowing that they would only continue to go around in circles if the discussion continued, he simply nodded and glanced at the inky blackness around them.
"How have things been?"
"Clear and steady. I saw a few lights off to our right—sorry, starboard—side about an hour ago, but they didn't come near us."
"A saving grace of sailing in friendly waters," Killian murmured, his eyes moving to the smattering of stars. He wouldn't know exactly where they were in relation to Narnia until he took some measurements, but if he had to guess he'd say they were making even better time than he'd predicted. "And Liam?"
David sighed. "He went to bed about an hour after I kicked you off the wheel, though that was only because I made him. Spent the entire time brooding at the bow."
He wasn't surprised to hear that. Any normal person, particularly a sibling, who could only helplessly watch as their loved one was pulled into a portal to an unknown realm would feel like it was their fault. Or that they should have done more to try to stop it. Add in Liam's tendency to want to control everything—including the things no person ever could—and it was the perfect storm for brooding.
"We can protect Emma from feeling guilty but not Liam, and no matter how well he thinks he's hiding it, he's not. I noticed it at the War Council yesterday."
"You might want to nip that in the bud before much longer," his father-in-law suggested with a knowing look.
Nodding, Killian placed the sextant atop the helm and rubbed at this tired eyes.
"Aye. I'll speak with him when he comes to relieve me at—"
"Dad?"
Both men visibly startled at the familiar yet unexpected voice. Killian barely had enough frame of mind to reach over and grasp a rung on the wheel when David jerked it in surprise, and their gazes immediately swung forward to see Liam making his way up the steps that lead to the ship's quarterdeck.
"Liam!"
"Bloody hell, lad."
The younger Jones raised his hands in a sign of apology. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."
"Not sure what else you expected to happen when you appear out of nowhere like that," Killian muttered, releasing full authority of the wheel back to his father-in-law while trying to calm his racing heart. The last dredges of sleep that had been clinging to him were certainly gone now.
Loosening his hold on the rungs until his knuckles were no longer white, David huffed in exasperation. "Agreed. What are you even doing up? I told you five hours ago to go to bed."
"I uh… I did. Well, I tried to." Coming to a stop on Killian's left side, Liam shrugged. "I gave up after tossing and turning for two hours."
Killian didn't have to look at his father-in-law to know the other man was giving him yet another knowing glance from the corner of his eye. Apparently that talk was going to happen sooner than he had intended. Liam must have seen the look as well because he sighed deeply before Killian could open his mouth, the sound resigned yet determined.
"Look, I—I know what you're thinking," Liam began. "I do feel guilty for what happened to Erin and Eric, and it is why I couldn't sleep. How can I not feel guilty? It's my fault this happened to them."
"Liam—"
A harsh shake of his son's head cut him off.
"No, Dad. It… I promise to talk with you about that later, for however long you think we need to, and I'll even do my best not to be self deprecating and actually take what you say to heart. But my feelings of guilt aren't why I sought the two of you out. I came up here because I know of a way we can contact Hades."
Neither Killian or David had expected that, and both men blinked in confusion before responding at the same time.
"How?"
Liam shifted uneasily at the question, the confidence he'd shown only seconds before while talking about his own guilt instantly disappearing. Whatever idea he had come up with, there was something about it that he expected one, or both of them, to disagree with.
"You aren't going to like it, Dad."
An ice cold tendril of trepidation began to slowly seep down Killan's spine, but he forced himself to ignore it. Gently placing his hook on Liam's right shoulder, he looked at his son intently.
"That doesn't matter. All that matters—the only thing that matters—is us finding a way to speak to Hades and figure out why he did this, along with where your sister and Eric are. I'd do anything for you, Erin, and Henry."
And he had. Years ago, when Rumple was still the Dark One and had yet to give up his need for power, Killian had made a deal with his then mortal enemy without hesitation in order to gain access to a realm Erin and Liam had been taken too. He'd also given his own life in an alternate reality—one created by the previous Author and Rumple—in order to protect Henry.
What could be worse than either of those things?
Liam stared at him for a long moment, eyes begging for his father's forgiveness, before murmuring, "Even if it means summoning your father?"
The tendril of trepidation seeping down his spine turned into a full fledged raging waterfall, and Killian couldn't hide the way his jaw clenched anymore than David could cover the sharp intake of breath he took at Liam's words. His father. That explained why Liam was so nervous about making the suggestion. Since discovering his father was the ferryman of sailor's souls and that his brother had been bound to service aboard the immortal Jones' ship twenty years ago, Killian had never been able to hide how he felt about Davy Jones. He'd long ago worked through the anger and resentment that came with being abandoned for power by the one person who was supposed to always be there for him. The one thing he hadn't let go of—what he could never get over—was that his father had brought the elder Liam aboard the Flying Dutchman upon his death and deprived him of a proper rest.
That, above all else, was what fueled his disdain towards Davy Jones.
Swallowing thickly, Killian nodded. "Aye, lad. If contacting him helps us find your sister and Eric, then I'd do it a hundred times and in a thousand different timelines without a second thought."
"I can't believe we didn't think of that connection sooner," David murmured as Killian lowered his hook from Liam's shoulder.
"I'm not surprised that we didn't," Liam replied. "It's not like any of us have a connection with the man aside from the blood that flows in our veins. I mean, for Erin and I, it's completely different than the relationship Henry has with Rumple. We think of ourselves as only ever having had one grandfather, whereas Henry still viewed Rumple as one even when he was still a Dark One."
"Out of sight, out of mind."
"Precisely."
"Our thought process was also on why a god would tether my children to a portal, not on our proximity to a ferryman," Killian added. "What made you think of him, lad?"
Liam brought his hand up to scratch behind his ear. "I, um… I might have borrowed a few books about the Underworld before we left Misthaven—without Aunt Belle's knowledge."
David gave a low chuckle as Killian raised an eyebrow at his son's admission. "Extremely brave of you, lad."
"Yes, well, I'd like to keep that part a secret from my godmother if I can," Liam mumbled, essentially swearing his father and grandfather to secrecy with the look he shot them. "When I couldn't sleep I decided to get a head start on research. One section talked extensively about the more well known ferryman, Charon, and… I don't know. The realization that we can contact another of the ferrymen and possibly gain access to the Underworld hit me like a runaway carriage."
It was a solid plan—in theory. Davy Jones was the entity responsible for escorting the souls of departed sailors to the Underworld, giving him easy access to Hades' domain and the ability to put them in front of the elusive god. Both of which could save them considerable time on research and allow them to find Erin and Eric faster. But the unknown variable in that equation was Killian's father. Would he help them? Aside from saving Erin from past Ursula and forcing the sea witch to take the memory potion, he'd never done anything for them. He certainly hadn't done the one thing that might redeem him in Killian's eyes. And this was the man who had abandoned his sons to a life of servitude without a moment's hesitation for unlimited power. As much as Liam was hoping he would be the answer to their problem, there was no guarantee that Davy Jones would agree to help them.
But he'd meant what he said—he would do anything for his children, including asking his father for a favor.
Adjusting the wheel slightly to stay on the course Killian had set, David asked, "How do you want to handle this?"
The three of them immediately launched into a discussion on strategy and how to approach the conversation with the ferryman. When they were done, Killian turned towards the port side of the Jolly Roger and, squaring his shoulders for what was to come, extended his hand. As he whispered his father's name in the quiet recesses of his mind, a white light pulsed from his palm and shot out into the darkness that enshrouded everything but the lantern-lit ship, rippling for as far as any of them could see.
For a long moment, nothing happened. Then, in the span of two heartbeats, the wind that was already moving around them increased to an almost supernatural speed. Its howling mass whipped at their hair and clothes until it became too hard to breath, but within a matter of seconds it was over. The wind died back down to the strength that they'd become accustomed to as the ship sped through the water, and Killian sucked in a sharp breath when he blinked and found his father standing no more than a few feet in front of him.
Davy Jones was tall, nearly the same height as David, and was dressed in what closely resembled a naval uniform despite the man having never served a day of his mortal life in the service. The dark blue jacket with gold buttons running down its front and black pants were neatly pressed yet their colors were faded with age, giving him an almost muted appearance. His face, which was physically frozen at the age in which he'd willingly taken up the mantle of ferryman, was tan and devoid of facial hair. He had brown, curly hair—the color and style eerily similar to that of Killian's brother—and blue eyes the same shade as Killian and Liam's stared at the three men in bewilderment.
"Killian?"
"Father."
Clearly not expecting a calm and non-hostile greeting, Davy blinked in surprise. "H—how have you been?"
"I've been better," Killian replied honestly. It set his teeth on edge to be cordial to the man standing in front of him, but he told himself it was the smart way to handle this. Tempers and hostility could easily lessen his father's support.
"What happened?"
"Erin's missing."
Davy's brows furrowed, resembling a look that Killian had seen on his brother's face more than once when he'd done something to perplex him, and the familiarity of it caused his heart to ache.
"Missing? How?"
"A portal," David said from behind Killian. To the untrained ear it was his normal voice, but Killian knew better. It was the same strained yet polite tone his father-in-law used when speaking with difficult ambassadors or emissaries. "Someone tethered my grandchildren to a portal and Erin, along with Eric, fell into it."
There was genuine distress on his father's face at those words. "That's… To tether someone to something like that is unspeakable." Glancing at this grandson, he added, "You were as well?"
"Aye. The only reason I'm here and not with Erin is because my brother managed to keep me from the same fate."
"We need your assistance," Killian said, pulling his father's attention back to him.
"Of course," the immortal Jones replied without hesitation. "How can I help?"
"We need to speak with your master."
"Hades? Why in Posiedon's trident do you wish to speak with him?"
"Because he's the one who tethered my children to the portal."
Davy took a startled step backwards at that, his eyebrows rising nearly to his hairline. "Hades? You're certain of this?"
David scoffed. "We aren't in the business of accusing a god of something like this without undeniable proof."
"This doesn't make sense," Killian's father murmured as he began to pace. "Hades doesn't do this type of thing. He'd rather endure an eternity of Demeter's voice than get involved with the affairs of mortals."
Killian's hand curled into a fist so tight that he could feel his nails digging crescent shaped marks into his palm. He was getting very tired of people saying that when it was clear the God of the Dead had.
"He did this time."
"But why would he?"
"We don't know, and that's why I summoned you." Taking a deep breath, and praying that he was wrong about his father for Erin and Eric's sake, Killian continued. "We need you to bring us to the Underworld so we can speak with him. We have to find out why he tethered the kids to the portal and, more importantly, where he sent Erin and Eric."
Stopping in his tracks, Davy's eyes slowly moved towards his son.
"I'm sorry, Killian, but I can't do that."
Sharp, molten red anger filled Killian's chest at his father's words, and it took every ounce of self control he possessed not to let it outwardly show. And he wasn't the only one. Liam's face was carefully blank, but Killian could see the fury smoldering in his son's eyes, and he could feel David's anger rolling off him in waves.
"Why not?"
Davy started to say something but then paused, as if contemplating his word choice, and then shook his head.
"Because it's against Hades' rules."
Liam scoffed. "So break them! You keep saying that you're our grandfather—this is your chance to prove it!"
"I can't," he said through clenched teeth.
"Can't, or won't?" David growled, suddenly appearing between Killian and Liam. He could feel the ship immediately start to veer off course with no one manning the helm, and Killian sent a hasty command to the Jolly Roger through their telepathic connection to keep the wheel on course.
Before Davy could respond, Killian asked, "What incentive do you need?"
His father, clearly taken aback by the question, frowned.
"What?"
"What incentive do you need to bring us to the Underworld." This was what he had been expecting to happen. It was clear his father wasn't going to grant them this request out of a sense of honor. "Every man has a price, so name it and it's yours. Do you want gold? Jewels? Magical items?"
"That's not—"
"What about accolades? David can knight you right here if you want. I'll even speak with Henry about writing a whole bloody book about you."
Davy scoffed. "I don't need—"
"What's the price, father?" Killian asked, his voice rising in volume as he took a step towards the ferryman. His ability to keep to the strategy they'd set was slipping with every second, and he wasn't sure how much longer he could continue the conversation calmly. "Whatever it is, no matter how outrageous, I'll give it to—"
"Enough!"
Lightning cracked across the cloudless, night sky at the ferryman's shout. While David and Liam startled at the unexpected sound, Killian didn't so much as blink at the show of power.
"What about my forgiveness?"
"Dad, no—"
Killian's hand came up quickly to cut off Liam's protest, his eyes never leaving those of his own father's.
"Is that what you require to be willing to break your master's rules?"
Silence filled the deck of the Jolly Roger as he and Davy Jones continued to stare at each other, the wind that was rushing over them as they sped across the ocean the only sound for a long, never ending moment.
"You have too much of your mother in you to ever truly forgive me for bringing Liam aboard the Flying Dutchman," Davy murmured at last.
"If it helps me find my daughter I'll give it to you," Killian argued, desperation clawing at his throat. Just do the right thing for once, he silently begged. "I'll do it right here, written in my own blood if need be."
"Killian…" Sighing, Davy ran a hand through his curly hair in exasperation. "I want to help you— to help my granddaughter—but I can't. Hades forbids living souls to enter the Underworld, and that's one rule I won't break no matter what you would give me in return."
"Orpheus went to the Underworld," David countered, his own cheeks flushed with barely restrained anger.
"And how do you think my predecessor became a ferryman?" Davy snapped. "He gave Orpheus, a living, breathing soul, admittance to the Underworld and Hades had him replaced."
And there it was, Killian thought, justification and disgust bubbling within him in equal parts. Davy Jones needed the power that came with his position as a ferryman, and he was terrified of being without it just as Rumple had been when he was the Dark One. After all, that was the entire reason he'd let go of Baelfire's hand over the portal on that fateful night. The lives and wellbeing of Davy's own sons hadn't been enough to keep him from accepting the position, so why would he risk it now to ensure his granddaughter's safety?
Killian laughed, the sound cold and mirthless as it left his throat. "Of course. How foolish of me to think that your granddaughter is more important than your position as the ferryman of sailor's souls. To hell with everything else, including your own blood, no matter the consequences, hm?"
"What if you didn't take us?" David asked, clearly trying every avenue available before Killian's temper inevitably boiled over. "What if… what if you went to Hades, alone, and talked with him? Just to get a sense of why he did this and where the kids are at. Would you be willing to at least do that for our granddaughter?"
Davy's gaze flickered to the King of Misthaven, his blue eyes contemplative for only a heartbeat before responding.
"No."
Killian closed the remaining distance between them in three quick strides until he was nose to nose with his father.
"I want you to remember this moment," he whispered harshly, every ounce of anger he'd been keeping in check since his father appeared seeping into his voice. "When you're lying in your bed, or ferrying another soul, I want you to remember the moment you choose power over your granddaughter. I want it to haunt you for all of eternity and beyond. Because it will. When you grow tired of immortality and being the last face a sailor sees before they enter the Underworld—be it a hundred years or several eons from now—and you give up the position, it will be what condemns you. What you did to me as a child, what you did to Liam in death, won't be what keeps you from eternal rest. No, your actions tonightwill be. And even if the very act keeps me from achieving my own peace in the afterlife, I will relish that thought with unrestrained glee. You can go back to your self appointed exile, Davy Jones."
Killian kept eye contact with his father even as the wind began to pick up around them, signalling the ferryman's dismissal from the mortal plane.
"I hope you find her," Davy murmured, the words barely reaching his son's ears above the wind despite how close the two men stood. He left as quickly as he had appeared, the severance of Killian's call sending him back to his ship crewed by indentured souls.
Killian stared out into the darkness surrounding the Jolly Roger for a long moment afterward, anger drowning out everything around him. When the red haze finally cleared, he turned to find his father-in-law and son still standing near the helm and looking just as furious as he felt.
"I can't believe he wouldn't help us," Liam muttered with a shake of his head.
"We anticipated it," David gently reminded his grandson, clasping his shoulder in a sign of comfort.
"Still, it—How can someone do that? He wouldn't even agree to simply speak with Hades on our behalf!"
"Because men like that are addicted to power and need it more than anything else," Killian replied while running a hand through his silver-streaked hair. "Rumple was the same once upon a time. You can't fathom making that kind of choice because you have a good heart."
Liam sighed. "I'm sorry I put you through that, Dad. I… I really thought he could help."
Killian gave his son an affectionate yet hard look. "Don't. You couldn't control Davy Jones' decisions anymore than you could control what happened that night at the portal. Besides, I told you I'd do whatever needed to be done to find your sister, no matter the consequences."
He could tell that his words hadn't truly sunk in beneath Liam's need to control everything, but the younger Jones nodded anyway.
"So, what do we do now?"
"We carry on as planned," David said. "Every member of this family and our allies are looking for a way into the Underworld so we can confront Hades, and Davy Jones' reluctance to help isn't going to stop that." Looking at Killian, he added, "Do you need me to stay?"
"No, go get some rest."
As David left the quarterdeck to head to his own cabin, Killian raised an eyebrow at his son. "Are you going to sleep any time soon?"
Liam shook his head. "I highly doubt it. I'd just toss and turn even more."
"Good." Moving towards the helm, he grasped the wheel in his hand as he telepathically released the Jolly Roger from command of their course. "Use your superpower to tell me exactly where we are in relation to Narnia, and then you and I are going to have that long talk about guilt you spoke of earlier."
Erin grunted in annoyance as she nearly tripped over her own feet for the twentieth time in the last hour.
She'd been constantly moving with only a few minutes rest here and there since she'd set off to find Eric. She'd finally managed to clear the mountains she had woken up in about an hour ago, but she still had no idea how long she'd actually spent walking in total. It certainly felt like she had been doing it for days based on how much her legs ached. According to when she'd first reached the portal in Camelot and the gray, dawn colored sky above her head, Erin had been on the move for roughly six hours. Of course, that was if this realm ran on the same time as her own. Which was a huge assumption to make when talking about a different world, as well as assuming she had only been knocked out from the fall through the portal for no more than thirty minutes. She was exhausted because of it, but she'd wanted to cover as much ground as she could before her body dropped from exhaustion.
Not that her current surroundings offered much in the way of shelter to do that any time soon.
Erin was technically in a forest of some sort, though 'forest' was a loose term she'd use to describe the terrain around her. The trees, though towering above her, were barren without a single leaf to be seen, and were blackened as if a fire had coursed through the area only the day before. There was no foliage beneath her feet like one would find in a normal wooded area either—just fallen branches, twigs, and the same brittle, dying grass that had covered the floor of the mountain pass. She also hadn't seen any signs of animal life since she entered the forest and that, even above the graveyard feel of the trees, unnerved her.
She wasn't even certain she was heading towards Eric. It wasn't like the doubloon still clutched in her hand acted like a compass. No matter what direction she faced, the speed and consistency of his heart beats remained the same, which left her to choose a heading off her instincts that she hoped led to him. The lack of any man made or natural path also didn't help matters. If it weren't for the skeletons that had littered the entirety of the mountain pass, Erin would have sworn she'd fallen into the first human-less realm in existence.
She truly had never wished for her brother's superpower more.
Another grunt, coupled with a colorful swear, fell from her lips as she stumbled yet again, this time barely catching herself on one of the tree's blackened trunks. Gods, she just wanted to sleep. She'd been awake for almost a full twenty-four hours and her entire body was sore—both from prolonged walking and her initial fall—but she couldn't rest. Not without finding shelter. She couldn't fall asleep out in the open simply simply because she hadn't yet encountered anyone, or anything. That was the first rule of survival her parents had taught her.
Shaking her head to force away the drowsiness that was trying to creep across her mind, she continued on.
Forty minutes and two hard falls to the ground later, Erin was seriously considering breaking her parents' first rule of survival when she suddenly found herself in a clearing. It was large—at least a few miles wide in every direction—and at its center sat a circle of stones surrounding a gaping hole in the earth. She surveyed the clearing with a watchful eye and, upon seeing no movement or sign of anyone, made her way to the stone structure. The stones were massive, each one longer than she was tall yet reaching no higher than her waist, and they were colored black. "Onyx," she murmured to herself when she'd gotten close enough to see her reflection in their smooth surface. Whoever—or whatever—had cut, shaped, and moved them into position had to be powerful, or at least brutally strong. The hole within the perimeter of onyx stones was nothing more than a black void that seemed to stretch for miles below the surface. It was unnerving to look at, and for the life of her she couldn't figure out what would have caused it.
A blood curdling scream suddenly filled the otherwise quiet clearing, echoing up through the depths of the hole, and Erin jerked away from the structure as if she'd been burned. She'd taken three steps backwards when her feet became tangled in her haste to get away and she landed with a hard thud on her ass. The screaming continued, seeming to only increase in volume over the span of a few seconds until it crescendoed into a drawn out wail, and it wasn't long before more joined in. It was a frightening symphony, one that spoke of endless pain, suffering, and the finality of life.
With her heart pounding and fear shooting down her spine, Erin scrambled to her feet and took off back into the woods at full speed, not even caring what direction she was heading in.
Where in the seven hells had that portal taken her?!