He's a pirate. Her beloved and honorable Killian is a pirate.
The realization hits her like a hammer to the chest and she swallows hard against the revulsion the thought causes.
"You're a… a pirate!" she states baldly, unable to keep the disdain from her voice.
A look of pain flickers across his features but he covers it quickly, straightening his back and anchoring his hand in his belt.
She waits a beat to see if he'll deny it but he says nothing in his own defense. Not that he can. It's obvious what he's become and nothing he says could change it.
Glancing around the room again, she takes in the trinkets lining the shelves, treasures that he's pilfered from unsuspecting vessels. There's a chest in the corner that sits open full of coins and golden chains. Fine embroidered pillows that have no place on a naval vessel are strewn across the bed. Ornate candlesticks with jewels encrusted in them stand on the desk. And the weapons… they're everywhere, from common steel swords to ostentatious pistols with gold inlaid in the handles.
Stolen. It's all stolen.
Turning, she marches over to the closest set of shelves and picks up a jewelry box encrusted with rubies and her anger intensifies.
"Who did you steal this one from?" she demands, looking over to him and holding it up in front of her.
He hasn't moved. He's still standing in the middle of the room, his thumb tucked into his belt in an attempt to look nonchalant but she can see the tension in his shoulders as he simply lifts his chin in response.
The fact that he refuses to answer sends a wave of fury through her. So she repeats the question, adding to it her most commanding royal tone, "Who did you steal this from?!"
He shifts on his feet and levels a stare at her that she's never seen from him before and, honestly, one which she'd never have thought him capable. His eyes harden and he fists his hand, dipping his chin in a menacing way that actually makes a shiver of fear try to creep up her spine. She holds it at bay, though, refusing to let him know that he, even for a moment, intimidates her with that look.
She places the jewelry box back where it was with a sharp click and moves around the room, examining the other treasures he's collected. She doesn't speak, and he doesn't either, as she studies each piece, picking one up occasionally while the anger she feels continues to harden in her stomach.
He doesn't stop her from her perusal of his ill-gotten gains but she can feel his eyes boring into the back of her head, never leaving her. She doesn't look back to him, though. She keeps her eyes trained on the many shelves because the sight of him now that she's realized what he's become is too painful.
A pirate. A fucking pirate. And obviously a successful one if the number of treasures he's collected is anything to go by. A man with no morals, no loyalty, no honor. A man who takes what he wants by force and leaves his victims bereft, or possibly dead.
A man who treats women with… She doesn't want to think about it. This is Killian. Her Killian. But memories assault her. Memories of Gwen disappearing through the door of the tavern with a man's hand fondling her backside. The leering stares and unwanted groping she'd endured at the hands of men like him. Bile rises up in her throat at the thought that he… he…
Betrayal and anger shoot through her system as she grips at the edge of a one of the shelves. Then she spots a chest sitting on the ledge next to the bed and yanks at the lid, intent on throwing the contents across the room in her fury.
When the chest doesn't open, it infuriates her even more. Why would he bother locking a chest in his own quarters? He's a pirate for heaven's sakes, and considering the veritable fortune in gold and silver strewn across the room, she's not sure what could be so valuable that he'd keep it locked up.
"What's in here?!" she demands, finally turning back to him.
His eyes are glittering with anger as he meets her gaze. "Nothing that concerns you," he says in a low voice that drips with warning.
She starts to retort but there's something else in his tone that tells her she's hit a nerve so she relents. It's Killian standing before her and, even though he's looking at her with barely restrained fury, she can see a tiny crack in his façade, the smallest hint of the sweet lieutenant she remembers. So she turns away and carefully places the chest back where she found it, fingering at the lock as she draws a deep breath. Biting at her lower lip, she wills the threatening tears not to fall, misery crawling up her throat and cutting off her air supply until she thinks she might choke.
She wants to ask him what he's done, give him a chance to explain how he ended up here but just as the question forms on her tongue, her eyes land on the naval insignia on the wall over the window and another realization hits her: She's on the Jewel of the Realm. The pride of her parent's navy. Liam's ship. His brother's ship. And he's turned it into a pirate ship.
"This is the Jewel of the Realm," she says in a strangled tone, moving toward the window to get a better look at the insignia.
This is the ship where they met, where she'd watched in awe as the dashing young lieutenant had given orders to the other sailors. Orders that were heeded without question, not because of his rank, but because they respected him - even though he was younger than most of them. This is the ship where he'd given her his first shy smile, which had surprised her considering how confident he was with his men.
That memory is all she needs for fury to race through her blood again as she pivots on the spot. "You turned my parent's flagship, the pride of the navy, into a pirate ship?!"
The words echo through the room just before the ship tilts violently, enough so that she stumbles and has to grab the nearby desk to keep from falling.
Killian, however, seems totally unaffected, swaying with the ship easily, a dark smirk on his lips as he replies, "Be careful how you speak of my ship, love. She doesn't like it when she, or her Captain, is insulted."
Emma scoffs at that and the ship lurches again unexpectedly. Once she regains her footing, she turns to the window, surprised to see nothing but calm waters around them.
Killian's voice breaks through the confusion she feels, "Don't forget, darling, she's made of enchanted wood. A bloody marvel, she is, so you'll watch your tone when you speak of her."
Looking back to him, she sees his look of smug confidence, standing tall in the middle of the room with one eyebrow raised. The lamp hanging behind him is swinging back and forth on its chain, making him look even more menacing and her breath catches in her throat because, in that moment, she can't see Killian, she can only see the foreboding and ruthless pirate captain he's become.
Then another memory flashes to mind, an arm clad in leather wrapped around her waist and a hook…
A hook…
She's moving before she even realizes it, walking straight to him to pull his left arm out from where he's keeping it behind his back. When her eyes land on the hook, she knows a moment of agony because she remembers… Oh, god, she remembers… and when she lifts her arm and traces it with her fingers, she has to hold back a sob.
But then she hardens again when the full implication hits her and she draws a sharp breath.
"You're Captain Hook."
She hears the contempt in her voice just before a loud gasp sounds from the doorway. Emma turns to see Ruby standing there, holding a tray with a look of utter horror on her face. Emma feels a moment of satisfaction that Ruby apparently feels the same way about her revelation of Killian's identity as she does. But an instant later she realizes Ruby isn't looking at Killian. No, the disappointment and disbelief on her friend's face is directed at her. A wave of guilt washes through Emma at that realization but she tamps it down because Ruby doesn't get it.
Her Killian was different. He was better than other men. He was honorable and loyal and he didn't love her because of her crown. He loved her in spite of it. He wasn't like the many opportunistic suitors who tried to win her so that they could line themselves up with the throne. Money and power didn't matter to the sweet lieutenant who'd won her heart.
And now he's a pirate - and not only a pirate but Captain Hook. The stories about him are legend. He's fearless. He knows no shame. He doesn't hesitate to pillage anything he wants. He even takes on military vessels. And she doesn't even want to think about the reputation he's said to have with the ladies because that is obviously not what she's upset about.
Equal waves of betrayal and guilt hit her as Ruby's eyes shift to Killian and she gives him an apologetic look.
But Emma can't back down, she can't just act like it's okay. He's a pirate. He stole her parent's flagship and he's stolen only god knows what else (and he's probably done god knows what with random women in pubs at every port he's visited - but that's not the point!).
When she looks back up at him, his eyes are downcast, staring at the hook with pain etched in every line of his face. Her heart constricts as anguish washes through her, the memory rising up and clogging her throat. She wants to tell him how sorry she is, how she'd lain awake for days after, thinking of him and praying he was alive.
But he doesn't give her a chance to say anything else, stepping away and wrenching the hook, which she is apparently still clutching, out of her hands. Without looking at her, he quickly strides to the ladder and ascends to the deck.
She's frozen in place as she watches the black leather of his coat disappear through the hatch, but as soon as the door slams shut behind him, the sob she has been holding back spills out.
Ruby is beside her in the next instant, holding her as she the sobs continue, wracking her body with their force. Because it's suddenly too much, too many memories, too many conflicting emotions raging through her – anger, regret, sorrow, grief – their combined weight forcing her to her knees.
Ruby sinks to the ground with her, rocking her back and forth, tucking her head into her chest and murmuring reassuring words. But it doesn't help. It seems nothing can stop the flood of misery that assaults her… That look of pain on his face, it's seared into her vision... the hook and the memories it causes… the feel of his arms and his lips still fresh…
It's a perfect night.
She's in his arms, music swirling around them as they glide along the dance floor. He's wearing that smile that always sends her heart aflutter, his hand securely resting on her hip, hers resting on the symbol of naval rank on his shoulder. They spin and laugh, sway and dip, their eyes never leaving each other's.
She'd made sure it was a perfect night. For the first time in her life she'd actually taken an interest in planning the ball, much to her mother's delight. She'd worked endlessly with Granny to design the dress she's wearing, she'd chosen the flowers and worked with the cooks to arrange the menu.
And it had been so worth it. Because here he is, twirling her around the dance floor, the blue of his eyes accented by the cobalt jacket he's wearing, twinkling at her with mischief and love, winking at her after a particularly zealous dip while his hand holds firmly to the small of her back.
They'll make the announcement soon. Soon all of their friends will know he's the man who holds her heart. Soon her parents are going to announce the impending wedding of their daughter, Emma, the Swan Princess, to the Naval Lieutenant, Killian Jones.
Emma wants to make it known to the entire kingdom but her mother had insisted that if the announcement is made public, they'll be bombarded with visitors and well-wishers from all over and she knows Emma is not fond of dealing with that sort of thing. A small wedding would be more intimate. They could be themselves and enjoy the night without the pomp and grandeur of an all-out royal affair. And, of course, her mother is right, Emma would be much more comfortable with only their closest friends in attendance.
Before the announcement, she can't help but sneak away with him one last time. They find an uninhabited alcove where he kisses her, long and slow. They break apart with a smile while his thumb brushes her jawline. He tells her he loves her. She says it back, safe and happy in his embrace.
Yes, it's the perfect night.
Until it isn't.
There's only one scream of warning before the hall floods with black knights, immediately surrounding the couples on the dance floor. Killian draws his sword and pushes her behind him, doing his best to hide her from the room.
The guests scatter in every direction, those with swords drawing them. More screams fill the air but they are followed quickly by the ring of steel meeting steel as swords begin to clash together.
Killian is looking around frantically. She can tell by his stance that he wants to rush into the crowd and fight but he doesn't. He stays with her, pressing her further back into the alcove.
"Stay here," he tells her and makes to step away.
"No!" she instantly responds, indignation filling her at the thought of him leaving her here like a helpless child. "I can fight!"
"I know that, darling. But you need a sword," he points out. "I'll be right back."
As it turns out, he doesn't have to go anywhere as a black knight rushes him. Killian takes him down with a few quick slashes, then leans over, picks up the fallen knight's sword and presses it into her hand. Then they both rush forward, protecting each other's backs as they join the fray.
She only fells one opponent before she hears someone shouting her name. August. He's fighting his way through the throng of people to get to her side. She barely hears him as she takes on the next knight, Killian still behind her taking on one of his own. Both knights crumple just as August reaches them.
"The passage," he yells over the chaos, already directing her toward the exit. "We need to get you to the passage!"
Emma immediately protests, "No! We can't run. We have to fight. This is my kingdom and I'm not going to let it go without fighting for it!"
"Emma, this isn't the time. You're not ready yet. Come on!"
She wants to protest again but August is pulling her toward the staircase before she can say another word. They fight their way through, August in front of her and Killian behind as they make their way across the hall. Liam is there, at the bottom of the steps, clearing a path for them. Once they're on the steps, the route in front of them is open and they run for all they're worth.
When they reach the balcony, Emma glances down to the ballroom below. She can see her father, right in the middle of the fighting, his sword swinging with surety as he brings down his opponent. She screams his name when another comes at him from behind but the knight doesn't make it to his target due to an arrow from across the room. Her eyes follow the path the arrow had taken and she sees her mother on the dais, pulling out the quiver she has kept hidden behind her throne for as long as Emma can remember and securing it to her back over her ball gown.
"Get them out of here!" she hears her father yell. "Get them to safety!"
When she looks back to him, their eyes meet for a brief moment before August is pulling on her arm again. She struggles against him, wriggling from his grip. She wants to fight, she wants to protect her people, her parents. She runs back toward the staircase, determined to stay and help, Killian on her heels. Liam is there, on the top step, dispatching a stray knight who had pursued them up the stairs and he grabs her by the upper arm as she tries to pass him.
"What do you think you're doing?" he asks as he whirls her around. "You have to go, Emma. There's nothing you can do. You have to stay safe!"
She shakes her head at him, completely uncomprehending. Why won't they let her fight? They know she's good with a sword.
"She wants to fight!" Killian says as he appears over Liam's shoulder.
"She can't!" Liam says, pulling her away from the stairs. "And neither can you, brother. You both need to get out of here!"
"No!" Emma shouts.
"Yes!" August interjects as Liam pulls her forward.
"EMMA! GO!" her mother's voice rings out over the din.
Emma turns to look at her, their eyes meeting, and she can see the resolve in her mother's stance even from a distance.
"NOW!" her father adds, not even looking away from the knight he is engaged with.
She looks from one to the other for another moment and something moves inside her chest, some distant understanding that makes her relent. Turning, she nods to August and Liam and then they're all running toward the corridor that leads to the passage again.
They make it half way across the balcony before their path is blocked, ten black knights materializing from the shadows.
All four of them rush the guards but, at the last second, August pushes her back behind him and she sees Liam do the same to Killian. It doesn't stop either of them, though. They charge into the knights, side by side, swinging their swords with deathly precision.
The battle below is still raging as well and she can hear the shouting echo through the rafters. She chances a glance over the railing and sees her mother's arms being held by two black knights as they attempt to drag her out of the room.
"NO!" she screams.
Then she sees her father rushing toward her mother, his sword raised as yet another knight comes from behind.
"Your Majesty!" she hears Killian yell as his hand grazes hers on the railing for an instant.
There's no time to think as her heart leaps to her chest, the sight before her searing into her eyes. Then, without warning, the ground shakes, stones raining down from the ceiling as the chandelier hanging above the ballroom starts swinging precariously from its chain.
She stumbles forward, gripping at the rail as the world tilts underneath her. There's a loud rumbling in her ears as she desperately scrambles to get a good grip. The ground beneath her is cracking, the stone groaning and crumbling under her feet. She jumps to the side, colliding with August as his arm grips her around the waist and starts pulling her away from the widening chasm.
Her eyes lift and there's Killian on the other side of the gulf along with Liam and the remaining black knights. They're both engaged with one and she watches, horrified, as the third lifts his sword and lowers it over Killian's left arm. His scream of pain drowns out her own and draws Liam's attention who immediately dispatches the remaining knight by kicking him into the now gaping hole in the balcony.
She falls to her knees even as Killian does the same, screaming his name, reaching for him over the crumbling floor. He looks to be in shock, his eyes fixed on the place his left hand should be, his face a mask of agony and disbelief.
It's unbelievable. This isn't happening. This can't be happening.
His eyes meet hers and they hold, pain registering in the deep blue as he blinks quickly a few times. August and Liam are saying something but the words barely register. She's only vaguely aware of anything going on around her as blood pounds in ears, the world blurring in front of her, everything morphing into a hazy and disjointed mess.
Everything except his eyes. His eyes stay focused on hers the entire time.
'Get her out. I'll take care of him.'
They're so blue, so incredibly beautiful, so soft…
'August, take her! We'll meet you at the rendezvous.'
Like the sky on a clear spring day, warm and peaceful…
'We can't leave you. He's just as important.'
Like the ocean at the height of a storm, wild and untamed…
Killian's eyes close on a hiss of breath, but open again an instant later.
'Hold on, brother. I've got you.'
Suddenly, she's moving and so is he, both being lifted as their eyes continue to hold.
A flash of clarity breaks through the haze and it registers on her that she is being pulled away from him. She struggles wildly against August, desperate to stay, but the sound of Killian's voice stops her.
"I love you, Emma. Go with August. We'll see you soon."
"I love you, too," she tells him just before he disappears down the corridor Liam is pulling him toward.
Her body sags and August all but lifts her off her feet to get her moving, her steps stumbling clumsily due to the shock she feels.
It was supposed to be the perfect night.