Killian stood at the stern of the ship watching as the coastline inched father, the bright white-orange lights of the city twinkling above the black water. Beside him Liam studied the night sky trying to make out the constellations. Around him, the sailors joked with each other as they worked, their deep, gravely laughs bouncing around the deck. Below, the rippling waves hummed as the boat sliced through the sea. Most of the other passengers had gone downstairs, so Killian had no company on deck but for his older brother and the crew. Their parents had argued as they were boarding and gone their separate ways when the ship left port. Liam and Killian hated dealing with their parents after an argument, so they avoided going to their cabins for as long as they could.
As he watched, Killian noticed a shape cut through the moonlight that danced on top of the water. He stared intently, hoping it was some huge fish, or maybe even a shark. He tried to follow its path in the water, but even with the full moon the creature was hard to make out. At one point it dipped so far into the water that it vanished from Killian's sight altogether. But to his excitement, it rose again, then finally poked its head above the surface.
Her head, actually. A girl, about his age, stared back at him with large, shiny eyes. Ribbons of damp, ruby red hair streamed down her brown face and shoulders. Her lips curled into a smile, she gave a brief waves, then she retreated back into the black sea.
"Wait, don't go!" Killian cried.
Liam looked down from the sky, "Who are you talking?"
"There was a girl in the water," Killian told him. "She was swimming behind the boat and smiled at me."
"No one can survive in water that cold," Liam replied. "You must have been seeing things."
"I wasn't!" Killian insisted.
"Maybe you should head down to bed,"
Killian pouted, "I'm not tired," and turned back to the water to watch for the girl. Liam left him alone and returned to the stars. Only minutes later, the girl poked her head up again, her eyes fixed on Killian's face, a smaller smile on her face. His face broke out in a grin, and he waved vigorously. Her smile grew and she waved back.
"Hey, look, I found the Tree Bears!" Liam nudged Killian. Killian turned his head, following Liam's outstretched finger to the formless, scattered stars shining above. He stared and stared, but he couldn't find whatever Liam was trying to show him. He wanted to look
Footsteps came to them. "I told you they were up here," their father snapped at someone, his words coming out a bit slurred.
The boys turned around to see their parents approaching them, both looking extremely cross. They moved strangely, shuffling and nearly tripping every few steps, his mother moreso than his father. Killian's wrinkled his nose as they got near enough to smell them; something strong, sour, and unpleasant radiated from their clothes and breaths. Delfina looked pale and worn out, Brennan red and fuming.
"We were just looking up at the stars," Liam offered weakly. "It was my idea."
Delfina turned to Brennan and scolded, "I told you to keep an eye on them."
"They're your kids," Brennan shot back, his words slurring together. "Why weren't you watching them."
"Our kids, Brennan; you're still their father."
"We won't do it again," Killian promised.
"Shut up," Brennan yelled. Killian flinched.
"Don't yell at him," Delfina grabbed Brennan by the shoulder, her furious, flashing eyes mere inches from her husband's face. "What's wrong you you?"
Brennan slapped her hand away, almost knocking her over the process, "Don't touch me." He glared at the boys.
"I'm just asking you to be a decent father, like you were before," Delfina stated coolly.
"If you wanted me to be any sort of father, you should have thought of that before you invited the Dark One between your sheets," Brennan hissed.
Killian didn't know what he meant by that, but Liam turned pale, as did Delfina.
"Let's not do this here, not in front of that boys," Delfina pleaded.
Brennan's smile was cold and cruel, "Why not, you don't want them to know their mother's a lying whore?"
"Don't use that kind of language around them."
Liam stood stiff as a stature, but his eyes darted back and forth between his parents and brothers. Killian wondered what a 'whore' was and why that seemed to be a bad thing.
"I made a mistake," Delfina's voice cracked, "But it was to help our family. He got me appointed as warlock to the royal court, I did it for your career, I placed in the king's confidence."
"An appointment that you lost because of your incompetence. Or maybe you want to leave court, and sabotaged yourself. Maybe you wanted to drag me down."
The sound of the waves faded as Delfina and Brennan's argument seemed to swallow the world. The joking and murmuring as the crew seemed silence as well; whether or not they care about the little family conflict, Killian could not tell.
Delfina's face iced over. "Everything I've done, I've done for you. You are my whole life, Brennan. Question everything else, but not that."
"How can I not question it? If you loved me, you wouldn't have tricked me into raising another man's children."
"Liam is yours," Delfina muttered.
"And Killian?"
Delfina did not reply.
"Well?" Brennan screamed, Delfina flinched.
"I don't know," Delfina confessed, sobbing. Tears streaked down either side of her face, "But he's still your son in all the ways that matter. Let's just put it behind us."
Liam squeezed Killian's hand. Killian's head began to spin. He was his father's son, wasn't he? Who else could possibly be his father? Brennan Jones had carried him to a healer when he broke his ankle the first time he tried to ride a horse; and taught him how to properly use a sword; and bragged about him to his fellow sailors at fancy dinners. Wasn't that what made someone a father?
Once, his father had looked at him with a pride and love; but his eyes held nothing but disgust and contempt.
"That's what you always do, Delfina," Brennan growled. "You run from everything difficult, you make excuses; you'd sooner spread you legs for a demonic little imp to get a favor than do any real, hard work! You lie, cheat, and manipulate to get your way, then expect everyone to forgive you."
"What do you want me to do?" Delfina screamed. "What will it take to fix this? I just want my husband back."
"How can you ever expect me to love you when that," Brennan pointed to Killian, "follows us everywhere, using my name. You let the Dark One's whelp into my home, without knowing what he might become, what kind a creature that demon might spawn."
Killian batted away tears, dampening his eyelashes. His father's words sliced him like razors; he felt abhorrent, like less of a boy and more of an unnamed beast.
"Don't talk about Killian about that!" Liam shouted. He had be so still, so silence, that Killian had forgotten he was there.
Brennan grabbed Liam by the collar and hoisted him outward, "Don't you ever talk back to me, you ill-mannered wretch!" He slammed Liam down onto the hard floor. "Get out of here."
Liam got up, resting more of his weight on his right foot than his left. He looked Brennan straight in the face, chin raised defiantly.
"Maybe I can't hurt enough to make you listen," Brennan slurred; his thick, sour breath made Liam sick. "but I can hurt him." He pointed to Killian.
Killian found himself shaking. Liam's eyes filled with fear. Delfina shook her head, "Just go Liam, before you make things worse."
Liam gave Killian one last, long look, before he bowed his head and limped downstairs to the ship's cabins.
Emma returned to an empty apartment not long before noon. Too exhausted to take a shower, she brushed her teeth and wiped herself down with a damp towel before she changed into one of Mary's pajama sets and fell asleep in Mary's bed; sure she wouldn't mind too much. Despite the nightmares, Emma's body refused to let her to let her wake up, so she had no choice but to endured them. When the nightmares came, the faces were obscured somehow, blurry but recognizable as human faces; now they were the faces of people Emma knew in Storybrooke; the mayor became Regina, the doctor became Dr. West, the sheriff became Graham.
Emma woke around sunset; Ava and Nicholas sat at the kitchen counter doing their homework in silence while Mary got dinner ready. "Good morning," Emma said automatically, then remembered that it had be almost evening.
Ava and Nicholas got from the seat and raced to hug her. Emma wrapped her arms tight around her kids, ignoring the little prickle of guilt over spending the whole with the unconscious Priscilla instead of coming home to her family.
Her family. No matter how much time she spent with them, Emma still found herself bewildered by the idea that she had a family. Of course, it didn't feel complete without Henry there. He's the one who brought her to Storybrooke in the first place, the one who had encouraged her to have faith that things could get better. Even with the warmth of the twins' bodies pressed against her, she didn't feel complete because Henry wasn't there.
She pictured his book of fairy tales and remembered the insane story Killian told her last night in the hospital.
"Are you okay?" Nicky asked, "Mary said you have a really long day at the station."
"I'm fine," Emma assured him, tucking a strand of his dark hair behind his ear, "I was just a little tired. How was school?"
The twins looked at each other, then Ava said, "Everyone was talking about Miss Jefferson. They say you save her."
"She came up to me in the street while I was on my way home, so Killian and I got her to the hospital. I stayed to make sure she was okay, that's why I didn't make it home until this morning." Emma explained. "I'm sorry if I worried you."
"It's okay," Ava replied brightly, "Mary told us where you were. But we did miss you."
Emma hugged them again, "I missed you too."
"My horse is gone," James noted.
His voice snapped Zela out of her musing about her newfound freedom. She looked around the empty field. A blanket of ivy now covered the rough granite walls of the towers, climbing nearly up to the balcony, and the once-bountiful grain fields had been left fallow.
James walked over a nearby tree. "I had him tied right here, there's no way he could have gotten loose unless someone had stolen him.
"What do we do know?" Zela asked.
"Walk until we find the nearest village or town. I've got a bit of gold on me, so it won't be too much trouble to buy another horse," James answered. He pauses a moment, as if not sure whether to continue. "We should write to our families. We don't know how long we were in there; they might be looking for us."
"There's still the issue for my hair," Zela noted, holding up a large chuck of the ridiculously long strands. Zela gather all her hair together and held it near waist-length as James cut through it with a dagger. His efforts left her with an uneven cut.
"I'm not much of a barber," James apologized.
Zela shrugged, "I'm just glad to be rid of it."
James and Zela walked for half a day before they came across the first village. A few tendrils of smoke rose from smothering remains of its buildings, but most of the fire had already been put out by rain from the the night before. Zela's stomach lurched at the sight of Bodies lay strewn haphazardly in the streets, surrounded by dried blood. She could not force herself to take a single step within the ruined village.
"What do you think happened?" James asked her, his face tense and fearful.
"I don't know, a battle, maybe?" Zela suggested.
"But there's no war going on right now," James mused. "We should gather whatever supplies we can, before what killed these village comes for us."
Zela cried, "I'm not going in there."
James frowned at her, but instead of scolding here for being scared, he went off on his own to scour for provisions for the rest of their journey. Occasionally James called out for anyone who might remain, but no answer came. Zela suppressed a deep sense of unease as she waited for James to return. Most of the food had been left out to rot, so anything edible they could find had been part of a family's winter stores; meaning whatever had destroyed this village, had done so quickly and unexpectedly.
Saddled on stolen horses, their bags slightly heavier with stolen food to sustain them, the duo continued moving toward James' palace, because it was much closer than Rapunzel's. They passed fields that had been left charred and fallow. Zela's unease worsened, and James did not appear any less troubled.
"I'm sorry," Zela spoke up, "for not helping you in the village."
"You've never seen so much death in your life, have you? Never been to a battlefield?" James guessed. His voice held no judgement.
Zela nodded, "My parents kept me rather sheltered from the world. They expected my brother to rule, so I suppose he had to grow up faster than I did."
James nodded, "My father made sure I knew the world's dangers at an early age. Our kingdom has many enemies."
They continued in silence, passing the scarred landscape as quickly as they were willing to push their horses. When night encroached, they tied up their horses and slept on rough, but warm blankets James had round. To Zela's relief, no bloodstains or ash soiled them, and she could pretend he had bought them from some reputable merchant. The next morning they forced down some salt beef and hardtack with water from a nearby river. She mounted her horse with dread, still sore from yesterday's long ride. Though she felt embarrassed to admit it, Zela was a creature of comfort. Even Gothel's tower had its luxuries. Less than twenty-four hours after her escape, she missed her soft bed and the fresh fruit that always found its way to her table.
This day continued much like the last; passing desolate, empty villages and towns and field; James leading, quiet and thoughtful; Zela squirming uncomfortably in the saddle, since she hadn't ridden a horse since she was a young girl, and certainly never this long.
An hour past noon, the pair came across the first intact town they'd seen since they left the tower. James looked back to smile at Zela, "This is Heath Market, it's the nearest town to my father's palace. We can rest here a while and be there by sundown." Zela shoulder's sagged in relief. Only a bit longer before she saw her parents again.
As they entered Heath Market, the same sense of unease crept up on Zela. Countless soldiers dresses in black armor walked around, bearing a sigil she didn't recognize. Zela rode up to James so they were shoulder-to-shoulder. "Do you have any idea who they serve?" she asked softly.
"That's the emblem of King Leopold," James whispered back to her.
Zela tried to remember the list of monarchs her tutors had insisted she needed to know, but she couldn't recalled anyone by that name. "I'm not familiar with him."
"Leopold III, of the House of Grimhilde, king of Misthaven," James stated. "He's a good friend of my father, and has two daughters near our age, Snow White and Rose Red."
Zela stopped her horse. "What are you talking about?" she asked incredulously, eyes wide with confusion and a gradually building fear. "My parents, King Thaddeus II and Queen Matilda, are the rulers of Misthaven. The Grimhildes are a minor noble family from Silvercliffe."
James stared at her, trying to make sense of what she was saying. "Thaddeus II? Son of George X?" Zela nodded at her father and grandfather's names. "He lived over 200 hundred years ago... You were in a fairy's domain, time must have been distorted."
"That's not possible," Zela shook her head. "I had to have only been there a few months, at most."
"Fairies can distort time," James repeated with a note of horror in his voice. "You've been in there for centuries. I could have been in there for centuries."
Tears came to Zela's cheeks against her will, "That can't be it. That would mean..."
"A message from King George, a message from the king!" Someone shouted above the chattered the crowd. Zela and James stopped to listen, and James put up his hood to hide his face. "King George and his most trusted ally Queen Regina of Misthaven have declared that Snow White, former princess of Misthaven, is a murderess and usurper, with no lawful claim to the throne of Misthaven. All dutiful citizen must immediately report any information that may lead to her capture. Failure to do so will be punishable by death. Providing succor to this malefactor or her army of bandits and rebels will be punishable by death. Refusal to serve in the king's army will be punishable by death."
"How long have I been gone?" James muttered to himself.
Killian remembered his parents, both drunk and emotional, screaming at each other. He didn't remember the crew, if they saw anything or tried to intervene. He remembered feeling small, like a sapling under the cool shade of giant oak tree, unable to catch the sunlight.
"What do you want me to do?" Delfina had screamed. "What will it take to make you forgive me?"
Brennan had pointed his long, cruel finger at Killian, "Get rid of the Dark One's spawn, I can't bear the sight of it."
He didn't know what his mother would have done if she were sober. He liked to think she would have done some different. What she did do, however, never let him sleep at night. She grabbed him with both hands, fingernails cutting into his soft skin, tight despite his attempts to wretch himself free. Delfina hoisted her younger son in the air, over the railing of the ship.
Killian hit the icy water before he realized what had happened, the cold rush of the sea poured into his mouth and nose. It felt like he'd been hit in the back, shoulders, and back of the head with a metal pan. The cold became burning heat, unbearable, unimaginable. He flailed in the water uselessly, his limbs stiff and powerless against the current.
Two arms wrapped around him, and he found himself reaching the surface. Killian sucked in a deep breath of fresh night air, but his whole body was numb and it hurt to breathe. Nonetheless, he couldn't think of anything but getting more sweet air into his lungs. The person who had saved him began swimming away from the ship at impossible speed, too fast for any human. It may have taken minutes, it may have taken hours, but Killian's rescuer eventually managed to dragged him onto a shore, doing their best to inch him away from the waves. The sand was cool, but much warmer than the water.
His senses returned to him as his breathing stabilized, but he was so tired from his ordeal that he quickly fell asleep before taking in his surroundings. He did not dream.
Killian woke to the sound of a girl singing. Even before opening his eyes, something in him told him it was the same girl he had seen from the boat. He forced himself to open his eyes. His entire body aches, but not as badly as it had the night before. The sun had risen, casting a pale yellow halo around the redhead mermaid who had saved him, as she sat on the beach next to him, watching over him.
She stopped singing when she noticed that he was awake, "Oh, thank goodness you're alright. What happened to you last night was terrible."
He didn't trust his voice, so he didn't reply, but gave her a weak smile.
"I don't know how, but I know everything will be okay, eventually. My name is Ariel, what's yours?"
