Disclaimer: I do not own any part of Once Upon a Time. This is story is for entertainment purposes only and not intended for profit, just as a tribute to the amazing writing, characters, and intricate plots therein.
Additional Disclaimer: Also in this chapter I humbly borrow the term "Oldest Old Thing" from Mercedes Lackey's Elemental Master's series. She calls Puck (borrowed in turn from Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream) the Oldest Old Thing in the British Isles. I just love the term, and from what Moraine tells Baelfire in Season 1, the term can apply to the Blue Fairy, as well.
Once again, major thanks to beta Willofthewisp for all her help!
Chapter 2—The Call to Adventure
Killian spent a lovely three and a half hours with the delectable Sara—who truly was as good as her flirtation promised—and left her with enough coin to pay her madam for room and board, and still have enough left over to buy herself a treat. He'd been tempted to give her a few coins to cover the time she'd spent talking to him and sitting with him when she could have been procuring other customers, mindful of his dedication to Milah and his concern about disease. But he'd been alone for three hundred years, and when she had pulled him into the dark alley between the Three-Legged Dog and her bordello to kiss him and grind her hips into his own in hard, suggestive circles, his body made up his mind for him. It had been a very long time for Killian, and he had had a lot of energy to expend. While the first round had ended embarrassingly quickly, he made up for it several times and flattered himself to think he didn't leave his partner unsatisfied, despite her being paid to make those lovely moans and shouts of ecstasy. He genuinely hoped she wasn't that good an actress.
Making his way back to the docks, he kept an eye out for any Black Knights still haunting the area. He had no idea how long it would take them to search the entire town, and he hoped they had already been to his ship and gone. And that Mr. Bright had honored his debt to his captain by keeping the boy's presence to himself.
Just as he set foot on the wharf where the Jolly Roger docked, he spotted one of the Knights speaking with another sailor. It was not Mr. Bright, thankfully, or any of his other men. He slowed his gait as much as he could, making himself appear more drunk than he was so he could catch a bit of their conversation.
"Already tol' you, ain't seen no boy like y'r describin'," the sailor said, a belligerent note in his voice.
"I'm reminding you, there's a reward in it for you if you have," the knight replied, his smooth accent much different from the sailor's. "Now, are you sure you haven't seen him?"
"I'm sure. You want a brat t'take home, you c'n grab any one of the little gutter rats what run 'round 'ere durin' the day, snatchin' from an honest man's haul. You take one'o them, an' I'll reward you."
The knight sighed. "If you do see the boy, please report it. He's not quite right in the head. He is intent on inciting rebellion in the kingdom. Now, you don't want that, do you? Another war? I'm sure you remember the last one."
"Aye, I do," the sailor affirmed, nodding his head. His voice clearly indicated that what he remembered was not to be spoken of. Only the worst memories can leave that tone in a man's voice: loved ones lost, horrifying battles, massacres, plague, and terror.
"So if you see the boy, you'll tell one of us," the Black Knight instructed. "After all, I'm sure you'd hate to be accused of plotting treason and the ruin of Her Most Gracious Majesty, Queen Regina. Would you?"
"No, sir. I wouldn'."
He's heard enough. Killian, thankful for his customary black clothing, blended in well enough with the night that he was able to nearly disappear into the shadows until the Knight passed him by. Then he made his way up the gangplank of the Jolly Roger to find himself facing his second mate. Mr. Bright chewed the ends of his long mustache in annoyance and stalked forward to meet him as soon as he had a foot on deck.
"Cap'm," he muttered (Bright's only mode of communication.) "A boy came aboard, and he had your ring, and he tol' me you said to remember the time in Neverland when that hellion Felix had it out for me, so's I let him into your cabin, a'cause that was what the boy tol' me you was tellin' me to do. But so's you know, I don't fer sher know t'was you tellin' me. So was it you? A'cause if not, I'll go below meself and drag the little whelp out by his heels and toss him o're the side."
"No need to worry, Mr. Bright," Killian reassured him. "I sent the lad here with the ring specifically so you would allow him aboard. And before you ask, yes, he's the lad the Black Knights are searching for. From what I overheard, he may have some knowledge that would damage this queen of theirs."
"Don't that make him a rather dan'jrus guest, Cap'm?" Bright asked.
He rested his hand on his sword-hilt and gazed back toward the forest that pushed up against the outer buildings in the town. "Personally, I don't have much love for royalty of any stripe. If this boy can stick a finger in a royal's eye, I'm only too glad to give what assistance I can." He glanced back at his second mate. "The boy will only be aboard a short while, and he'll work for his keep, never you worry. Now, I'm off below for the night. In the morning, we have deliveries coming in. We'll set sail in the afternoon as the tide is going out."
"Aye, Cap'm," Mr. Bright said.
Killian snapped out an arm and grabbed hold of the man's stained and sloppily-tied cravat, pulling him close. "And, just so we're clear, you're not to leave this ship while I'm asleep, and you're not to breathe a word to the Knights, should they reappear, or to any crewman about the boy's presence until we're safely out of the harbor, or you'll wish that Felix had found you. Are we clear?"
"Yes, Cap'm," he said, gulping. "Aye, Cap'm, it'll be as you say."
"Good." He released him, patting down the wrinkled cloth. "Have a nice night, Mr. Bright. I shall see you in the morning."
"G'night, Cap'm."
Killian went below deck to his quarters under the forecastle. A light shone from the keyhole and beneath the doorframe. As he opened the door, the boy popped up out of the seat he had taken at Killian's table, the oil lamp upon it lit and illuminating the room in soft gold light and throwing deep shadows into the corners. He closed the door, shucked his coat, and hung it on a wall peg before he raised his brows at the boy expectantly.
"Thought I told you not to touch anything."
"It was the only chair in here," the lad pointed out. "And I needed a light so that I wouldn't accidentally bump into anything. I promise, those were the only things I touched."
A quick glance around told him the boy was telling the truth. Even the maps and charts on his desk looked untampered with. "Fair enough. How about you sit back down, and we'll discuss what's going to happen?"
The boy hopped back into the chair and Killian settled himself on the edge of his desk, looking down at him. The lad looked at him expectantly but without a hint of worry. Killian could not decide whether that meant the lad was extremely brave or if he actually was touched in the head, as the knight had indicated.
"First things first: your name?"
"Henry," the boy answered promptly, and that was all. No family name, no title was forthcoming. Just Henry. Very well, Killian could work with that.
"Henry, then. Here is what I propose." Killian leaned forward to better look the lad in the eye. "I am willing to take you, as promised, to the next kingdom and drop you off if you so wish. That could take several weeks. While aboard, you will serve as cabin boy, which means that you will be at the beck and call of any crewman who needs assistance. I don't tolerate laziness or insubordination, so that means you will be working very hard."
"I understand," Henry said, nodding. There was a glint in his eye that warned Killian that the boy thought this was all a grand adventure, and there was nothing Killian could say to talk him out of it. He wondered if he had ever been that young. The thought alone made him feel old.
"There is one condition to my helping you," Killian warned, holding up an indicating finger. Now Henry looked cautious. "I overheard one of the Black Knights say that you had some information that was damaging to the Evil Queen. Is that true?"
Henry kept his mouth shut for a moment while Killian waited him out, never breaking eye contact, until finally the lad sighed and admitted, "It's…sort of true."
"And that information could bring about her ruin?"
"Not…exactly…but kind of."
Now Killian sighed and leaned back. "You're not exactly a wealth of information, lad, you know that?"
"Sorry." The boy sounded genuinely regretful. "It's just…this thing that I know…it's big. Really big. And even though you helped me—and I'm grateful, really!—I don't know you. I don't know if I can trust you. And this—what I know—it will change everything. And I'm not supposed to know it. If she found out, and if she found out who told me…"
For the first time, Henry looked truly frightened. Even when the Black Knights were chasing him, he hadn't appeared as afraid as he was now. Whatever bit of information the lad had managed to overhear, it scared him, which sent Killian's mind wandering through all the possibilities: could it be a political secret to be sold to an enemy, revelation that the Queen's coffers weren't as golden as they may appear to outside trading partners, a broken agreement with an ally, or something even worse, something Killian couldn't even fathom?
"Lad, I won't take offense at your distrust if you won't take offense at what I have to say." Killian again leaned forward, only this time, he let a bit of his own steel and fire show through, and Henry nodded. "I need to know exactly what I have aboard my ship if I'm agreeing to transport it. I learned the hard way in the past that people with secret agendas lie to those they're sending into the breach for them, and I'll not have what happened before happen again. You can either tell me what you know and I can make the decision to help you, or at least take you to the next port…or I can throw you off my ship now. Those are your choices."
Henry's eyes widened, flicking back and forth to Killian's as he weighed the captain's sincerity. "It's not—"
"You tell me, or you go," he reiterated.
The boy gulped. "All right, I'll tell you. But…please!" Henry leapt from the chair and stood before him, his hands clasped and imploring. "Please, you can't tell anyone!"
"You have my word," Killian agreed, his curiosity deeply piqued.
"I'm on a quest."
"A quest?" he repeated. "It must be terribly important for you to leave your home in the middle of the night, not properly dressed, with no provision, no assistance lined up, and just expect everything to work in your favor."
Henry sighed and blurted, "I have to find and rescue the cursed Princess who is destined to defeat the Evil Queen and restore all the happy endings."
Killian waited a beat, sure that there would be a further explanation. When none was forthcoming, he frowned and rubbed his eyes. "Repeat that, please?"
"I have to rescue the Princess who is destined to return all the happy endings," Henry said. Seeing Killian's disbelief, he took a bold step forward. "I know it sounds crazy, but it's true. She's been cursed for years. If I can rescue her, she can defeat the Queen, and then everything will be better! Everywhere! All the happy endings that have been taken from people will be restored."
All the happy endings…it sounds like a child's tale, and it was being told by a child. He wanted to scoff. He wanted to tell Henry that he was imagining things, his clearly overactive imagination running away with him. He wanted to let the boy down gently, tell him that there were no happy endings.
But hadn't he once, long ago, been young? Hadn't he once needed something to believe in, that life could be more than the daily drudgery that made up his own days as a cabin boy—a virtual slave—aboard the merchant ship his father had abandoned him on? Wouldn't a young Killian have gone to the ends of the world to rescue a princess, especially if it meant that not only his own but "all the happy endings" would be realized?
Even if it was a lie, even if it was a childish fantasy, Killian had given his word to take the boy to the next safe harbor.
"Come lad, there are extra blankets and pillows in the crew's dorm." Killian stood, and he motioned for Henry to follow him. "You can bunk down in the corner for the night. Tomorrow, after we leave port, I'll assign you a room with the crew."
Together, they found two tattered old blankets that Henry would be able to layer so that none of the holes overlapped, and a pillow that smelled a bit like wet goose and camphor. Henry curled up in the corner of Killian's room, his eyelids drooping before they have the bed made. The lad had clearly been on the run for at least a full day, and was exhausted. He fell asleep in moments, and Killian quietly removed his vest and boots, placed the boots beside his bed, and turned the wick of the oil lamp down to smother the light. He easily made his way to his bed in the dark, not quite trusting fate enough to remove his hook, and fell into his own deep slumber.
The lad had been on his ship for nearly a week now, and Killian had to admit, he liked the boy. Henry was intelligent, eager and quick to learn, and full of the enthusiasm and hope that only a secure and mostly-happy childhood could engender. Killian could not help wondering if he had been wrong about the Evil Queen being Henry's mother. Surely someone with that dubious honorific couldn't bring up a child as happy as Henry appeared to be, but Killian wanted the boy to be more settled and likely to trust him before he pressed for more concise answers.
So who then could have raised a boy that the Evil Queen would go through so much trouble to find? A servant, perhaps, who was privy to the Queen's secrets, told them to her son, and now had paid the price? Some courtier or knightly father? Those choices seemed more likely the longer Killian knew the boy.
Killian watched Smee take the boy around the ship, showing him his duties. Today Henry was learning how to find and repair cracks, warps, and holes. The lad was dressed properly for the work he was doing, as well. He still wore the nightshirt he had arrived in with the sleeves rolled up high to free his hands, but it was now tucked into a pair of striped hand-me-down trousers that had been ripped off at the knee on the former owner. They fell halfway down Henry's calves. He still wore his own boots, though, unaltered.
From his place at the helm, he watched Henry handle the clucky planer against a rough warp on the starboard deck. Killian expected the boy would likely end up with a few splinters before the day ended, not that it would likely dampen his spirits. He wondered at the lad's energy. He could no longer remember his own childhood clearly save for a few painful, crystalline memories that usually remained in their tightly sealed boxes in his mind. He could not remember ever being so boundlessly enthusiastic about anything. The Lost Boys had a certain manic quality to their play that masked their cries at night. The only other child he had ever been around for longer than a skirmish had been older, already fifteen. Perhaps that had something to do with it; Baelfire had been on his way to manhood by the time Killian met him properly. Henry was still very much a child. Bae had been more focused and serious; Henry saw everything as an adventure.
And speaking of adventures, what about this quest the boy professed to be on? Killian still had more questions than answers. Firstly, where did Henry hear about this cursed Princess? What was the curse? Why curse her and not kill her if she was meant to destroy the Evil Queen? Personally, Killian could understand murdering an enemy or potential threat. Cursing her and therefore allowing her to have a chance to avenge herself seemed sloppy and careless—bad form and bad planning. But then he wasn't a sorcerer. He preferred the direct approach.
"Henry!" he called to the boy.
Henry looked up from his attempts to level out the warped wood. "Yes, Captain?"
"After you're done for the day, report to me before dinner. I want a word."
Had it been any of the men, they would have been shaking, wondering what they'd done to merit the Captain's scrutiny. Henry just nodded, gave him a quick salute, and returned to work.
Killian had heard only good of the lad from his crew. They were glad to, at least temporarily, hand off some of their more mundane chores to the boy, and Henry was eager to try his hand at any task in return for passage out of his kingdom. He was glad the men hadn't questioned his taking in the boy. They were all wary of youth now in a way they hadn't been before Neverland. Bloody savage little buggers, the Lost Boys were.
That evening, Killian sat at his desk, going over old maps of the coastline, comparing them with the one sketch of the coast he and Starkey had been able to find that was drawn less than fifty years ago. A quick, rhythmic knock sounded on the door, and he knew immediately it was Henry. He leaned back in his chair and called out, "Come in, lad."
"How did you know it was me?" Henry asked as he shut the door behind him.
"Shave and a haircut?" Killian asked, raising a brow. "Not one of my crew, even in their most whimsical of moods, would knock on the door to my cabin with 'shave and a haircut.'"
Henry laughed as he came to stand before the desk.
"So," the boy asked, "what did you want to see me about?"
"A few things. Firstly, we'll be landing in a day or so; where are you headed to begin your quest?"
Henry frowned, his gaze going distant as he thought. "I'm not sure."
"Do you even know where this Princess of yours is located?" Killian pressed. "Or were you just going to wander around and hope you stumble across her?" He tisked his tongue and shook his head. "You don't have any plan at all, do you?"
"I have a plan!" Henry protested.
"What is it then?" Killian pressed. When Henry hesitated again, he leaned forward. "Lad, you have very few options. You can either tell me where to drop you—or better yet, tell me just what you're planning, so I can help you—or you can stay aboard my ship for as long as it takes you to figure out how to sneak off because even I am not so heartless as to abandon a child in a strange city with no idea of where he is going."
Killian allowed that thought to impress itself upon the lad as he settled back against the worn leather of the armchair. He shrugged and clasped his hand around the curve of his hook in his lap. "I'm sure you'll be able to manage your escape eventually. But who knows how far we'll be from your goal when you do find a way to leave this ship? And until then, you'll be worked like a dog as the junior-most member of a pirate crew. Take your pick."
He allowed Henry the chance to think it over. When the boy finally spoke, Killian found himself surprised.
"You'd help me on my quest?"
He hadn't expected the lad to latch onto that particular piece of his speech. Killian certainly hadn't meant to make the offer, hadn't realized he had offered even as the words had come out of his mouth. But now, given a chance to think about it, Killian realized he was sincere. He had been a sailor for most of his life, and he had seen many strange and unaccountable things throughout the lands of the Enchanted Forest and the distant Realms he had travelled to. A cursed princess capable of restoring peace and happiness to the land was a bit of a stretch, true, but it was no harder to believe a scorned sorcerer could turn a man into an animal as punishment, or that hearts could be removed and crushed to dust. And while he had no interest in defeating the Evil Queen—he wanted no business with anyone royal, malevolent or otherwise—he did have a decided interest in his own happy ending. He could think of nothing that would make him happier than to have the Dark One, that sniveling little coward hiding behind a fortress of dark magic and stolen skill with a blade because he was too craven to fight for what he wanted when it mattered, dead at his feet, all his power stripped away.
If he could find someone to help him achieve that end, he would offer any assistance needed.
"Aye, lad, I'm willing to help, if I can. Especially if there's a reward in it for me." He raised a finger when Henry looked as if he was too happy to forestall any overeager sentiment. "But I'll not let a child wander around alone if I can help it, not without a plan. You've given me little to go on. You won't say where you're headed, how you plan to get there, or what exactly you plan to do once you find the Princess, if she indeed exists. A plan with that many holes is sure to fail."
"It's not that I don't have a plan," Henry said. "It's just that I'm not sure how to get where I'm going."
"And that is…?"
Henry rolled his lips together, obviously hesitant to divulge too much. Which was ridiculous, Killian thought. Had he done anything to merit that amount of suspicion from the boy? From many others, yes, but from Henry? No. Especially after he'd practically just promised the boy aide in this quest.
"I hate to point this out, mate, but most adults are not going to help you," Killian tried to reason with him. "They are going to see a child all alone trying to play at being a hero. Frankly, I'm not sure I'm seeing anything different."
The boy's offended, hurt expression slowly changed from an affronted belligerence to a quiet caution. It gave Killian the opening he looked for. He put as much sympathy and camaraderie into his face as he could muster. "You could try giving me the story from the beginning: where did you hear about this Princess, and how can you be sure she's even real?"
Henry sighed, his shoulders slumping, and he walked forward to rest his elbows on the desktop. Killian nearly swatted at him and told him to not touch. The lad had no sense of personal boundaries. But since it appeared that he was finally going to get some answers, he kept quiet.
"One of the Queen's Black Knights told me," Henry admitted. "He wasn't always a knight. He used to be a huntsman, but the Queen took his heart years ago for failing to kill Snow White, like he'd been ordered. That doesn't make him evil! But because the Queen controls his heart, he has to do what she orders him to do."
At the mention of the Queen taking hearts, the memory of the Crocodile reaching into Milah's chest and ripping hers out rose to his mind. Milah's death had come quickly after. Killian went cold at the thought that the monster could have made Milah a slave had he not been so hasty to kill her, and Milah would have been powerless to do anything by obey. The implications of what the Crocodile could have done to her sickened him.
"I believe you, lad." Killian pulled his flask of rum from the desk drawer and took a long swig to fight down the bile that had risen up the back of his throat. The warmth of the alcohol replaced the sour taste in his mouth, and he was able to breathe again. "But how would this knight, or huntsman, or whatever he was, know about the Princess?"
"He said he was there when she was cursed," Henry explained. "He told me that the Queen made him watch as punishment for failing her. He'd let Snow White escape, and then presented the Queen with a doe's heart, trying to trick her into thinking Snow was dead. Then later, he helped Snow White's True Love, Prince Charming, escape from her dungeon so that he could rescue Snow from a sleeping curse the Queen had put her under. But this time, the huntsman would be powerless to stop her. He had to stand and watch as the Princess was cursed, and there was nothing he could do to stop it or help her. So instead, once I was old enough, he told me."
Ten years old is old enough? Killian wondered. And if he had been confused about whether Snow White was a nickname, he had no such confusion over "Prince Charming." A more ridiculous title he'd never heard.
"Do you know what kind of curse the Princess is under?" he asked.
Of course, Henry shook his head. "Not exactly. Some kid of transformation. The knight said that he was frozen in place to watch. The Princess was engulfed in purple smoke, and suddenly there was a flash of wings, breaking glass, and the Princess was gone."
The way Henry spoke, it had the ring of a tale memorized and fantasized about. That didn't make it true. Even one whose life has been touched by magic in various forms must be wary of hoaxes and wild tales told to children to get them to sleep at night.
"He could simply have been telling you a story, lad," Killian pointed out. "Have you thought of that?"
"No." Henry shook his head. "It's true."
If he had wildly defended his storyteller, jumping up and down and throwing a tantrum at Killian's continued skepticism, he might have been able to write Henry's belief off as a child's naiveté. But the boy was calm and somber in his insistence, and that is what made Killian truly believe him. Whatever this huntsman had told the boy, he had been telling the truth, and he had imparted it with such gravity that Henry could now translate it in his own story.
"So the Princess got away," Killian mused. "Good for her. Still no idea where she went?"
"North, I know that much," Henry said. "She was in the mountains when the curse was cast. She probably stayed close by. What I really need…" He drew a deep breath. "What I really need is to find the Blue Fairy. She lives deep in the forest, and she knows everything, and she always helps those who are pure of heart. If I can get her to help me, the rest will be easy."
I doubt that, lad, Killian thought. But why crush his enthusiasm? Besides, it was a start. Even he had heard of the Reul Ghorm—the Blue Star. Fairies in general were known to be helpful sorts on quests and adventures in landlubber stories. The winged ladies never ventured to sea, as far as he could tell, but forest dwellers swore by them. And the Blue Fairy was their leader, the oldest old thing in the Enchanted Forest.
Aye, if anyone could help them find a lost princess, it was she. And if anyone could be said to be pure of heart, it was Henry.
And now he was thinking in terms of "them," was he? Clearly he had already made up his mind to help the boy, and there was no use pretending otherwise. As with most of his important decisions, it had been half vague inclination and half sudden impulse. His course was set. Now the winds would take him where they would.
"Then I suppose we're off to find the Blue Fairy," Killian concluded. "That means the Infinite Forest. North, you said?"
Henry's face lit up. He bounded around the desk and threw his arms around Killian, causing him to stiffen and try to jerk away, but the boy squeezed damn tightly for such a spindly chap.
"Thank you! Thank you, thank you!" Henry chanted.
"Get. Off. Now." Killian finally managed to extricate himself. "Didn't I tell you there would be none of that?"
Even the rebuke wasn't enough to wipe the relieved smile off Henry's face. Killian scowled at him and adjusted his vest to hang properly again after Henry's mussing. It has been a long time…a very long time… since anyone had offered him unaffected warmth. He was no longer used to it, and the boy could bloody well keep his hugs to himself.
"Now then," he cleared his throat, shifting his seat, "do you know your geography?"
"I know some," Henry confirmed.
"Take a look at these maps. Where is the best place to dock to begin the journey inward? Preferably a port not loyal to the Queen and where a ship can dock for long period safely."
Henry looked down at the maps and traced the coastline with a finger. "I know that this is the border between Saint-George and the Eastern Kingdom."
"There appears to be a natural harbor here," Killian pointed to a dimple in the inked coast. "And where there's harbor, there is generally a town. It's as good a place to start as any. We can make it there in a week or so."
"Great!"
"Now that we have that settled, you head on down to the galley to get dinner, then catch some rest. You're still earning your keep."
"Yes, Captain," the boy responded, smiling again at him like he was the boy's own bloody hero.
Henry scampered out of his cabin like he didn't have a care, and shut the door behind him with a last wave goodnight. Killian nodded in return, and as soon as he was out of sight, he took another long drink of his flask. They would have a long journey ahead, and he never had known the interior of the Enchanted Forest as he did the ocean surrounding the many little kingdoms. He needed all the liquid fortification he could get.
Note: Thanks to those who reviewed with the Blue Fairy's older name from the show!
Now, I'm going to put this notice here and see who spots it. I'm sure there are a few canny readers out there who will take notice, but to avoid unnecessary confusion, if the plot of this story becomes increasingly familiar, there is a good reason for that. My original title was going to be "The Swan Princess," but then I did a little research. Just go up to the Search bar on FF-Net and you will find: 601 total stories titled or referencing "Swan Princess," 235 of which are TV shows, of which a full 212 are OUaT fics, 207 are in English, 187 feature Emma, and of those, 122 are Captain Swan. So I needed a title that was more original, but the plot was indeed inspired by the fairy tale/ballet of Swan Lake more so than the 20th Century Fox cartoon movie (though I do still like that version.)
Bonus points: who's old enough to remember the original Anime cartoon movie "Swan Lake" from the '80's where the prince was still named Siegfried before they modernized it into Derek for the 1994 version?
