Disclaimer: I do not own any part of Once Upon a Time. This is story is not intended for profit, just as a tribute to the amazing writing, characters, and intricate plots therein.
Additional Disclaimer: Any dialogue you recognize comes directly from the show. Props to the writers for those little tidbits.
Author's Note: Okay, so in the absence of a streetlight to spark and pop when Emma gets mad, what might indicate that there may be some magic lurking in her somewhere? Well, what if her innate power interacts with other magic in strange and unforeseen ways?
As always, much thanks to my fabulous beta, Willofthewisp!
Chapter 9: For Every Action…
Killian shifted on his bedding, frustrated that sleep still eluded him. It was late now, and his body was exhausted. But despite the ache in his legs and back as a result of days spent climbing mountains, his mind refused to rest.
The werewolves had decided to bunk under the trees, so the cabin was left to Henry, Killian, and David. The space was cramped, even with only three people inside. There was no way it would have housed the entire rescue party. He looked around the little hut and marveled again at the Princess's resourcefulness.
The little cabin built by the Princess was not spacious or luxurious. The walls were made of thick, woven reeds, showing that she had attempted to make the place as cozy and comfortable as possible in case of bad weather. There were even rabbit and squirrel furs on the floor for bedding, though Killian was surprised the Princess knew how to hunt for game—but given the number of surprises he had had already, perhaps he should stop expecting anything to be as expected.
Killian closed his eyes and tried to find the rhythm of his breathing, hoping that if he could find serenity he might also find rest. But his mind refused to cooperate. He could barely hold enough concentration to follow one breath into another. Too much had happened today, and he was at a loss to explain some of it.
He was no closer to his revenge now than he had been when he left Neverland. As a hero, Princess Emma was sub-par. The Princess seemed adamant that she was uninterested in taking up the mantle of Savior. She was willing to let the kingdom burn under the Evil Queen's rule so long as she was released from her curse. He was surprised by her selfishness now that he knew her father and son. Surely their heroism and determination could not have skipped her entirely. But if she would not even stand up for her own people, how could she help him kill the Dark One?
If he had not met the woman, he would curse her for a coward, but somehow, knowing all that had happened to her, he was reluctant to label her as such. Princess Emma had suffered a great deal of loss, first abandoned by her lover, then sent into hiding while her family members were killed, and finally she had her son stolen from her. And on top of those hardships, which would have thoroughly battered an average person, she was cursed into a foreign form and hunted throughout the Enchanted Forest for the next decade.
As a pirate, he too had been hunted, but he had always been able to fight back. For roughly half of every day, the Princess was nearly helpless as she languished in swan form. Killian wondered what it had been like for her, and what would he have done in the same situation? He had felt the rage at being on the wrong side of a powerful sorcerer. But even with the loss of his hand, he had never been rendered powerless, losing half of his existence to a form not his own.
And then there was the uncertainty. Liam and Milah had both died in his arms. He knew they were gone. He had felt their bodies grow cold as he held them, and watched as they sank beneath the waves in a proper sailor's burial. He had spent a long time both alone and lonely. But he had never suffered the anguish of not knowing what had become of his loved ones, always to hope that they were still alive, only to have those hopes dashed by year after year of them not coming for him.
He tossed back and forth on his bedding as the thoughts chased themselves through his head. None of it was getting him closer to his revenge. Although he did find himself grudgingly admiring the lovely Princess for her fortitude in the face of adversity, and though he did feel for her plight, Henry had said that she was necessary to bring about the realm's happy endings, and she was refusing to uphold her duty.
He shifted again and tried to quiet his thoughts, thinking instead of the Jolly Roger and running over all of the repairs his ship needed when he returned to her. He went over every board in his mind, every length of rope, every knot, every gun and weapon until his mind quieted into peaceful meditation. He must have drifted off eventually, despite his troubled thoughts, for he jolted awake when he heard footsteps outside the hut softly padding away from the dozing travelers. His first instinct was to grasp the hilt of his sword, but already the footsteps were retreating.
Killian quietly stood up, stepping around his sleeping companions, and glanced outside the hut. None of the werewolves were awake, seemingly unperturbed by whatever had caught his attention. They were camped together some ways off, under the trees, so perhaps they had not heard it. He listened another moment, but the sound did not repeat. He nearly lay back down, but then a soft scuff down by the lake drew him away from the shelter to investigate.
He found Princess Emma sitting on a moss-covered log, watching the moonlight sparkle on the dark water. She was hunched over, her knees close to her chest, and her arms wrapped around her middle, literally holding herself together. She must have heard the crunch of his boots on the loose gravel of the lakeshore, for she looked up as he approached.
"Oh, it's you," she said, straightening up.
"Were you expecting someone else?" he asked.
She shrugged. "My father. Aunt Red. Henry."
"Sorry to disappoint you."
"No, not at all," she said in a rush, then clamped her teeth together with a wince. "That came out wrong. I don't mean that I wouldn't want to see them, if they had come. What I meant was…I expected that one of them would come to find me, not you. Which comes out sounding rude, and I'm not making this any better, am I?"
He chuckled at her and admitted, "Not really."
"I apologize," she said, grimacing at herself. "It's been a while since I've had to be polite and diplomatic."
"Good manners are always appreciated," Killian noted. "But I'm a pirate, love. I'm used to the less polite aspects of discourse."
She narrowed her eyes at him. "And yet you speak quite well for an uncouth pirate?"
"Aye, well, we all have a past."
She nodded, and although there was a spark of curiosity in her eyes, she did not pry.
"I would have thought you would be sleeping," Emma observed.
"I could say the same for you."
"I'm usually awake at night," she explained. "I try to sleep during the day, while I'm in swan form. It makes the time pass more quickly. And even with all of my flying today, I can't seem to make myself sleep now."
"I had a difficult time dropping off, as well. It's been quite an eventful day." He gestured to a place on the log a few feet away from her. "May I?"
She looked at him for a long minute, and he could almost see her thoughts as she tried to gauge his intentions. After a moment's deliberation, she inclined her head and scooted down a bit further while he took a seat. For several moments, he allowed the silence between them to continue. It was surprisingly peaceful. The crickets in the grass behind him chirped a melody to the bass thrumming of the bullfrogs hiding among the reeds along the lakeshore. The occasional plip-plop of a fish surfacing and then retreating beneath the water added a staccato beat. When Emma finally spoke, her voice was as quiet as the night.
"Today was my birthday."
He looked over at her, but she kept her gaze forward.
She cleared her throat and asked, "Do you know what I wished? I wished that I wouldn't have to spend it alone."
"I doubt you could have foreseen such a large and varied party arriving to celebrate, Swan," he teased her, ignoring the sharp glance she shot him.
"This isn't how it was supposed to be!" she erupted, springing to her feet to pace along the water's edge. "My family was supposed to be alive and find me, and there would be some way to break this curse on me—a talisman, a counter-curse, fairy magic, something. And Regina…I don't know. Why can't she just fall out of a window or suffer an aneurism? Why couldn't my parents have just executed her when they first defeated her? It would have saved countless lives, and my mother and brother would still be alive."
Emma finally paused to breathe, her hands on her hips, and her chin bowed into her chest as she struggled to regain control of herself. Killian could hardly fault her for an explosion that had clearly been a long time in coming. How long had those grievances been building up inside her, he wondered? He watched her drag in a few deep breaths and realized he had something better than deep breathing to settle her. He reached into his waistcoat and lifted out his flask from its designated pocket.
"You sound like you need this," he said, offering it up to her.
Emma pulled in another breath, held it, and considered the flask for a full minute before she nodded once decisively, allowing herself to exhale. She reached out and took the flask, popped the stopper off to let it dangle by the cord that kept it attached to the flask, and lifted the spout to her lips. She choked and coughed when the rum hit her throat, but she managed to get a respectable mouthful down without spitting it out. He used his hand to cover his mouth so she did not misconstrue his chuckle for mockery.
"I'm sorry, I'm not usually so talkative," she apologized once she regained some composure, and handed him back his flask. "I just… I haven't spoken to anyone in years, as I said. It seems to all be bubbling up now, and believe me, I am not what you'd normally call a 'bubbly' person. But…" She shook her head as she gazed out over the water with a frown. "There were days I thought I would go crazy."
"And I'd wager there were nights you thought about swimming out into the lake to let yourself drown."
She looked down at him in surprise, and he had to look away, out over the water. It had been years since his nervous habit of scratching his ear had afflicted him, but his fingers were tugging at the appendage before his mind caught up with his body. He cleared his throat and shrugged.
"Funny thing about sailors. We spend most of our lives at sea, but most of us can't swim. You go overboard, and you're lost." He cast her a quick glance and found her watching him with a curious gleam in her eyes, and he finally realized why she seemed almost familiar, as if part of him had known her for years. Gods, it was part of why he could read her so well. She reminded him of Milah when he had first met her, and of himself when he lost first Liam and then his love. "I am passably acquainted with despair, Swan. I recognize it."
Her eyes flicked away, unwilling to accept his sympathy. "That's the second time you've called me 'Swan,'" she pointed out. "It's a little tactless, don't you think?"
"I go by Hook," Killian said, showing the appendage. "If our scars are the first thing people see about us, best to own them with pride rather than have others pity you behind your back."
"I suppose you have a point," she conceded with a frown. And to his relief, she did not seem appalled by the missing hand. Her eyes flicked back to his own, and that curiosity flared to life again, kindling an answering ember in his chest. He knew what she wanted to ask.
"I lost it, along with someone I loved, on one of the worst days of my life," he explained, rather to his own surprise. As soon as the words had left him, he looked away, clenching his jaw, and he had to fight to keep his breathing steady.
"I'm sorry," she murmured.
He cleared his throat to chase back the lump that choked him. "It was hardly your fault, Swan," he said, deliberately using her new nickname. "No need to be sorry. It serves as a reminder for me."
To avoid any further conversation regarding his past, at least for the moment, he licked his lips and tilted his head, considering her. "Pardon me for asking, but I'm curious. Why a swan? I mean, of all the things to transform an enemy into, I might have chosen something a bit worse had I been the one wielding the magic."
Emma snorted and shook her head as she sat back on the log beside him. "Personally, I think it's because magic has a sense of humor."
"A sense of humor?"
"When I was younger, I went through what is charitably called an awkward period," she explained. "The other children at court teased me, calling me an ugly little duckling. My father found me crying one day, and he assured me that the most unattractive duckling he could think of was a cygnet, and they grew up into swans." She shrugged. "It became his nickname for me, Emma-swan. It was the name I gave Henry's father when we met. Somehow, I think Regina's curse picked up on it, and boom—I'm a swan."
"So you don't believe the Evil Queen intended to turn you into a bird?" he asked.
She shook her head. "Everything that happened that day is a bit of a blur, but she seemed surprised when she saw me. I'm not sure what she intended, but I doubt it was this." She spread her hands to indicate her current predicament.
Interesting theory, magic with a sense of humor. If magic was a somewhat sentient force, why did it choose some people to wield it and not others? And how would any magician ever know if his spells would work as he intended? And if Emma was wrong, was it something about her, personally, that warped the curse the Evil Queen had cast? But what? What made this woman special? He rubbed the corner of his eye as yet more questions spun around in his head.
For a few moments, they allowed the nighttime symphony to take over as the only sound, forcing his mind to let go of questions about magic he could not answer. As he listened to the lakeside music, with Swan's slow, even breathing beside him, Killian was surprised by how soothing he found it. It was as if he could sit with Emma by the lake for hours, not speaking, and even if he could not sleep, he would find himself rested. He wondered how long they had sat there already. Glancing up at the heavens, he noted the position of the stars. Dawn would come in another hour or so, so there was no point in trying to go back to sleep. Besides, he felt at more at ease now than he had felt with anyone for a long time.
Almost as soon as he thought it, a spike of something ugly shot through his veins, almost like fear. Peace was the last thing he needed now. Not when he was closer to his revenge than he had been in centuries. He might blame it on magic, except that the Princess had not invited him to sit beside her. He had asked. What was wrong with him?
"I told you why I'm awake," she said, interrupting his musings. "Why are you? Surely your journey here was longer by foot than mine was by wing. Aren't you tired?"
"I, too, have much on my mind," he admitted, and he almost wished she had not spoken. But she had—unwittingly—broached the subject, so he felt he had to press her. His revenge demanded it. "I've travelled quite far to be here, and danger has dogged our path the entire way. I…made a promise to someone—and to myself—that I intend to keep. And Henry insists that you are the key to bringing about the happy endings. Frankly, the only reason I agreed to assist the lad in finding you was to petition for my own happy conclusion to a quest I've been on for…quite a while."
The image of the Crocodile looking up at him in shock and fear as he slowly died while Killian watched flashed across his mind's eye. For Milah, and for Baelfire, that monster deserved to die. He could think of nothing that would make him happier than being the instrument of Rumpelstiltskin's downfall. And then…
And then…well, he would consider the future when he knew if he had one.
"Look, I'm sorry, but I'm not fighting any battles," she insisted. "Sure, I was a princess, but not even a very good one. I'm just a person, I'm no savior."
"Is it possible—"
"No, it's not," she cut him off. "I'm sorry, but you—all of you—have to stop thinking that I can somehow fix everything! I'm not trying to dash anyone's hopes, but to give you false hope is far worse. What do you expect me to do, exactly? Wave my hand, and everything just works out? "
"I expect you to fight," he countered, leaning toward her, his brow furrowed. "As you said, you're a princess. Don't you owe it to your people to fight for them?"
Emma reared back, almost rising from the log. "You have no right to judge me."
"On the contrary, Princess. I grew up as one of the little people, and I have seen what a malevolent ruler can do to a kingdom. If this Regina is as terrible as your family insists, I would expect the rightful queen to mount a defense against her."
"It would be a suicide mission," she insisted. "Regina is a powerful sorceress. You really think a pack of werewolves, an aging warrior, a pirate, a cursed swan, and a child could defeat her and her army?"
"Apparently it was managed once before," he pointed out.
"Only with the help of the Blue Fairy," Emma said. "My mother united the villages to fight Regina. First they defeated King George, taking the castle, and then Blue helped my parents trap Regina with a spell that temporarily froze her and took away her magic. But that's not an option now. Blue is gone, and my mother is dead."
"And why could you not do what your mother did?" Killian asked. "I have the word of a fairy that they will come to our aide if or when we attack, so there's one part of the equation. And as for the peasantry, I'm certain they don't enjoy living under the thumb of a dictator. They're your people, Swan. Surely, if you rallied them, they would fight for you as they did for your mother."
She turned away to stare over the water. Her arms reached up to encircle herself, to defend against what, he did not know. Again, he did not understand how someone with such an obviously strong will could not know herself.
No, he realized. It was not knowledge she lacked. It was belief. It was faith. It was trust. She had been left alone for too long, and his intuition told him that even in her childhood something must have happened or been said to her to make her doubt herself, something beyond the teasing of other children.
"You don't trust them," he realized. "And you don't trust yourself. You don't believe your people would accept you as queen. Why ever not?"
Surprise flashed across her face. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Before she could even attempt an answer, a shout went up from the direction of the hut.
They were both on their feet and running in a heartbeat, Killian more quickly than Emma as her skirts slowed her down. Soon, he was able to make out human shapes in the darkness, though the uniforms of the Black Knights blended in with the shadows. Several were engaged in skirmishes with the werewolves, but one darted from the hut with a squirming, fighting boy under his arm. David was nowhere to be seen.
"Henry!" Emma shouted, running after the Knight who had her son.
Killian put on a burst of speed, but he was too slow. The Knight brought a heavy gauntlet down on the boy's head, causing Henry to go motionless. Then he threw the lad over his horse, climbed behind, and broke away through the trees.
Fay, snarling and fingers curled into claws, bolted after the escaping Knight, but one of their assailants had a crossbow. Before she had covered half the distance to reach the boy, Fay screamed and stumbled to the ground with a bolt through her shoulder. Killian was close enough to get to her side quickly, and fended off the Knight when he came to finish the job. The man was only a fair swordsman, and Killian had the advantage of his hook, which he used to blind the Knight. As he screamed, lifting his open hand to cover his ruined face, Killian found an opening between armor and chainmail to dispatch him.
The rest of the Black Knights broke and ran to their horses, leaving the mounts of the dead men to wander in the trees. They were gone before Killian could wrench his sword from his fallen opponent, wiping the blade on the man's tunic to get off the blood. When he looked around, there were three more Knights on the ground, but the wolves had suffered a loss of their own. The old man, Govery, was belly up, glassy eyes staring sightlessly into the sky, and a dark puddle grew underneath him. As for the other werewolves, Tanner was no longer the only one with an injury. Mara and Link were both bleeding. And Jeb was only just beginning to stagger to his feet, shaking his head as if to clear a fog.
He looked behind him, but Swan was gone. His grip on the hilt of his sword tightened as he spun in almost a full circle until a groan from the cabin drew his attention. David, with his arm over his daughter's shoulder, shambled out of the tent clutching his head where a long drip of dark blood hung. Killian sighed in relief at seeing the shepherd alive, and sheathed his sword. He would clean it properly later.
"That bastard hit me over the head with something before I even had a chance to wake up fully," David admitted. "If I'd been quicker…"
"We have to go after them," Emma insisted. "I'll only be human for another hour at most, but we have to try."
"We will," Killian assured her, stepping close enough that he could see her trembling with the urge to run after the Black Knights. Emma looked at him with wide eyes. Even in the faint, silver moonlight, he could see the sheen of tears she had to blink back.
"I have to tend my people first," Red insisted, helping Fay to join the pack. "I'm sorry, I know how important Henry is to you, but my pack just lost someone, and we have wounded."
"How?" David wondered. "Werewolves are pretty hard to hurt."
"Someone prepared them," Red snarled. "They had silver in their weapons. Somehow, someone knows we're helping you."
David released a string of epithets Killian did not realize the man knew.
"I'm sorry, Aunt Red," Emma said. "But they took my son. I just found him! I can't lose him now."
"We'll get him back, Swan," Killian said, reaching out, almost touching her hand before he let his fall back to his side. "In fact, it might be best to wait out the moon. You'll be able to track them better from the air as a swan than we can on the ground right now."
Emma looked frantically at her Aunt's pack. No one was able to track the horse that had taken Henry at the moment. Fay, poor lass, was whimpering in pain as Red broke the silver-tipped crossbow bolt, her hand wrapped protectively in a fold of her cloak. Mara tried to staunch the bleeding cut on her arm, and Link had received a puncture to the leg. Killian had no idea how long it would take them to heal from such wounds if they were made by a metal anathema to them, but their group was severely compromised as a fighting unit until they did.
The Princess hissed in what Killian privately thought was a good imitation of her daylight form.
"You're right, damn it," she admitted. "But as soon as the sun comes up, I'm in the air. For now, what can I do to help?"
Red directed her niece in assisting to patch up Mara and Link while Red remained with Fay to remove the bolt from Fay's shoulder and staunch the bleeding. Meanwhile, Tanner and Jeb, along with David and Killian, dug a hole under the pines for Govery. It was exhausting work, especially on little sleep, and complicated by the huffing and whineys of the horses abandoned by the Black Knights. The animals could smell the blood and knew that they had been abandoned, but they had been trained to stand their ground in times of fear and stress, and their antagonistic posturing was a distraction Killian could have done without. But thankfully Jeb's blow to the head healed quickly, and Tanner had barely been scratched in the last melee, so the werewolves were able to dig faster and deeper than the human men. By the time the sky turned a hazy, pale blue in anticipation of dawn, the grave was ready.
When they rejoined the werewolf pack at the edge of the lake, they found Emma with her hands cupped, Red standing at her side.
"What is it?" David asked. "What did you find?"
Emma held up a small circular object. "It's a mirror. Aunt Red found it on one of the Black Knights."
Killian recalled Red telling him that her pack always checked the Black Knights they encountered always kept a mirror with them. This mirror had a black outer casing, in keeping with the rest of the Evil Queen's entourage, with a crest on it: three white squares, one inside another, quartered by a black cross on a black field below stylized red fire on a white bar. It appeared to have popped open a tad when the Knight met his demise. Emma regarded it as if it were a snake in her hands.
"Should we dispose of it?" Killian asked.
"You might as well, dear," a woman's smooth voice purred from the mirror.
Emma jumped, dropping the mirror to the gravel beach, causing the case to fall all the way open. The image had a blue cast to it, so color was hard to differentiate, but the Evil Queen—for who else could it be?—was beautiful and slightly terrifying. Her skin was pale, and one side of her face was illuminated by some distant source of light, softening the delicate lines on her face. Her dark hair, with a single band of silver rising from above her left eye, was swept up in a complicated chignon. Her eyes were dramatically defined with dark powder and kohl. The only suggestion of color in the foggy image was her deeply rouged mouth which appeared purple, and was pulled back in a vicious smirk.
"After all, I already know where you are now, thanks to my Knights," Regina continued. "And I am well on my way to having my son back, so keeping the mirror around is somewhat pointless. Unless you want to keep me around to torment you a while longer? That would be fun for me, at least."
"Henry is my son!" Emma shouted. "And I am not going to let you steal him from me again."
The Queen laughed, and the sound was dark and full-bodied, like poisoned wine. "And how do you plan to do that? With your little rag-tag band of miscreants? Your mother tried that once."
"Yes," David said. "And we defeated you."
"Oh, is that right, Charming? In any case, I didn't stay defeated for long. I still remained the rightful ruler of two kingdoms, regardless of Snow's little take-over, so forgive me if your threats are less than intimidating."
"Snow should have had you executed when we had the chance," David growled down at the mirror.
"Yes," Regina agreed, nodding. "But now I've won, as I always knew I would. Snow White has paid for what she did to me. And I promise you, Ducky," she hissed at Emma, "I will get my son back by sundown tomorrow. And then you? You will be stuffed and mounted above my throne."
Emma bared her teeth at the Queen's image, and swooped down to pick up the mirror, snapping the case shut, before she turned and hurled it into the lake.
"We have to go," she insisted. "Now."
"I agree," Killian said. A glance at the sky showed the orange, pink, and white of dawn expanding across the heavens. The sun would break through any moment now.
"Right," David said. "Emma, you head to the water. Take to the air as fast as you can. We'll keep an eye out for you."
"The Black Knights headed east," Red added. "That's in the opposite end of the Valley from where we entered."
Emma nodded, jogging backward toward the water. "There's a tunnel in that side of the mountain that leads down to a plateau just north of the Eastern Kingdom. The entrance is hidden, that's why I didn't think to have it guarded. Stupid!"
As she headed off, David turned to his friend. "I'm sorry for your loss," he told Red, laying his hand on her shoulder. "And I'm sorry there's no time for a more formal ceremony. You and your pack, take all the time you need to say your good-byes. Killian? You and I can start out the horses the Black Knights left behind."
Red nodded her agreement. "I'll only stay for Govery's burial, and then I'll head out. I think I can find some friends in the area to help."
"More werewolves?" Killian asked.
"No," she said. "We're not far from the northernmost border of the Eastern Kingdom. I think some old friends from the first war against the Evil Queen may have made their home in the mountains just south of us."
"Just be safe out there," David said.
"I will, I promise. I'll meet up with you as soon as I can. Tanner is my beta. I've already told him to catch up with you three once they've all said their good-byes."
"Agreed," David said. "We'll see you soon."
Together, David and Killian made their way into the trees to collect the horses while the sun rose slowly over the horizon.
A/N: Once again, thank you to all my anonymous and un-logged-in reviewers! I appreciate every single review, and I'm always glad to hear what you liked, what surprised you, and what your theories are for what is to come.
