A/N: Let me begin by apologizing for how long this chapter took. I had to take some time to work out how and when to reveal things to both the characters and the audience. I'm hoping the next chapter won't take as long but there's still a bit to work out, so I can't make any promises. That said, I'd love to hear your thoughts about the revelations in this chapter! I hope you enjoy!
The Jolly Roger remembers the first time her hull touched the sea. She remembers the first time her beloved kingdom's crest was hoisted from her mast, the first time her sails were opened and she glided through the water… And she remembers the first time Killian Jones graced her deck.
He'd been young and optimistic, full of nerves but hiding them well in an effort to make a good first impression – and she must admit, she's held a special place in her enchanted planks for the blue-eyed sailor since that first moment. He'd alighted from her gangplank one stride behind his brother, Liam, who he'd looked up to and adored. The brothers were always incredibly close – even while stalwartly following the chain of command – Liam was her captain and Killian her Lieutenant and the lines of protocol were rarely ignored.
Captain Liam had been a wonderful captain with an exceptional service record and a level of bravery that rivaled even that of the finest knights. He was fair-minded and kind, charismatic and authorative, so it was no wonder that he'd risen to captain at such a young age. As for Killian, he never seemed to mind being cast into the exceptionally large shadow of his brother, always one step behind, just as the day they'd boarded. It had always amazed her that the two never had any type of sibling rivalry between them, more than likely due to the fact that their father had abandoned them as children. They must have depended on each other their entire lives, so an accomplishment for one was a victory for both. The love between them was nearly tangible, a strong and beautiful bond of mutual respect that only siblings can truly appreciate.
Captain Liam and his crew had taken fantastic care of her, kept her decks gleaming and her sails pristine. She'd been known as The Jewel of the Realm back then, Queen Snow and King David's flagship and the pride of the navy. She'd had little to worry about, her homeland at peace under the leadership of kind and generous monarchs, sailing the open sea under the flag of her beloved kingdom, transporting a beloved crew and, occasionally, even having her beloved royal family as guests in her staterooms. She'd watched contentedly as Captain Liam had teased his brother over his love of a princess. She'd been amused by the blush the older brother could always get out of her staunchly proper lieutenant. She'd looked on with pride as the dashing young brothers navigated her through bitter storms and fair weather alike.
Then it had all changed.
It had been a horrific day, the day her sweet lieutenant had shown up at her gangplank, clutching his injured arm to his chest. Violent winds and heavy rain had fallen while he'd been all but dragged across her deck, nearly unconscious; the waves were turbulent and unruly when she'd sailed away from her much-loved kingdom that last time; lightning and thunder had cracked through the sky while her delirious lieutenant thrashed wildly about as Master Jefferson had attempted to treat his obviously infected arm. And later that night, after he'd been cleaned and bandaged, he'd laid his remaining hand on the ledge next to his bed and whispered to her that Captain Liam and the Princess were dead, that the kingdom was lost… and he'd begged her to take him away, to keep him and his makeshift crew of escaped prisoners safe.
And since that day, that's exactly what she's done.
She'd changed her flags to those of the dreaded skull and crossbones, rechristening herself as The Jolly Roger; she'd fortified her defenses against intruders; she'd outrun naval vessels and rival pirate ships alike; weathered storms and squalls and held fast against enemy cannons. And, for the first time in her existence, she'd made use of her own cannons… and her plank. She'd done everything she could to protect her new captain and his crew. But nothing she did could protect Killian from his own personal demons.
She'd watched, helpless, the night he'd stumbled up to the deck – still feverish and desolate with grief – grabbed a hook from one of her nets and stared at it until dawn. Her dear lieutenant was broken and lost, his devastating agony seeping out through his skin and into the enchanted wood of her mast where he was slumped. Not long after, she'd witnessed the first time he'd put on the brace, slipped on the coat and lined his eyes with kohl. She'd felt his utter rage at fate and life – and most especially at the Evil Queen – when he'd clicked that piece of metal into the end of the brace, his transformation to Captain Hook complete.
She'd always understood his motivations – or at least she thought she had. The first time they'd sunk one of Regina's naval vessels had been a satisfying day, and every item he stole from her suppliers was a small victory. But it was never enough for Killian. Her captain continued to sink further into that dark abyss of hatred, a glint of madness forming in his eyes, a sense of urgency to his actions. She never understood what made him search every vessel they took from stem to stern himself. She didn't know why he'd return from every port they visited looking a little more insane, a little more desperate. It finally occurred to her that he was looking for something… something in particular. She wasn't sure what, but one incredibly awful day she'd figured it out… In fact, she'd figured it out the same day Jefferson had... the same day her lost and enraged captain had done the unspeakable.
She saw the anguish cloud his eyes almost immediately after he realized what he'd done. He'd locked himself in his cabin that night and drunk every ounce of rum he could find, he'd cursed and sobbed and shattered the last bottle against the wall, falling to his knees in the middle of the room and squeezing the item he'd found in his hand until it broke skin and he'd bled onto the floor. She'd rocked him to sleep that night, kept a quiet vigil over him until he awoke the next day and gingerly laid the treasure into his special chest.
He hasn't touched it since.
After that, he changed. He was still angry – perhaps even angrier than before – but the urgent desperation was gone. His eyes were dull and focused, his actions measured and calculated. It was almost like he wasn't even Captain Hook anymore. But he wasn't Lieutenant Jones, either. He wasn't anyone. There wasn't so much as a flicker of life left in his eyes. And it wasn't until Jefferson met Patricia that she saw it again.
When Jefferson stood on her main deck and vowed his love to his beautiful wife, their plan had already been in place. Patricia had come from a family who didn't have the means to defend themselves and Regina's knights had killed them over a few loaves of bread. Thankfully, Patricia had escaped but when she'd met Jeff, she'd been nearly starved to death. It wasn't so much a moment of decision that carved out their next mission as much as the natural progression of things. Her stores were laden with weapons, overflowing with food, and the people of Patricia's small village had been in need.
Killian hadn't hesitated to empty the hold and turn it over to those people. And that's when the flicker came back, his eyes taking on a new life. He had a new mission, a new purpose and he'd transformed once again, this time into the brilliant captain who used all the knowledge he'd gained over his life to give back to the people. And he'd been overwhelming successful at it.
To the outside world, he was a fearless pirate who sought out riches and glory (and pleasure) above all else. He was known across the realm as a ruthless strategist and a charming lady's man, a dashing rapscallion with a reputation for leaving said ladies very, well… satisfied.
There were only a select few who knew who he really was – his crew, of course, and Patricia – but even they didn't know there were still moments when he'd drift into despair, still moments when he'd drink himself to sleep in the privacy of his cabin. But she did. She'd watched him for years, knew him almost as well as he knew himself and she knew that the ghosts of his past would come back to haunt him from time to time.
But look at him now. He's actually smiling…
"Good form, lad!" he calls to Dopey when the little dwarf makes an impressive pivot and meets Killian's blade with enough force to ring across the deck. They've been at it all morning and the loveable little dwarf is proving to be an apt pupil.
Examining her deck, she sees the rest of her crew scattered about. Jeff and Patricia are standing at the helm, wrapped in each other's arms and whispering something that she pretends not to hear (Grace is now sleeping in the crew's quarters with her newest and best friend). Grace and Ruby are at the bow with Emma while they encourage the princess as she practices her magic, their dresses changing color every so often.
She's had many crews over the years and she's loved every single one but this group is by far her favorite. She has a handsome and intelligent captain in Killian, an eager and kind-hearted first mate in Dopey, a feisty and talented cook in Ruby, a cheeky and playful lieutenant in Jefferson and the rest of her crew is lovely and kind. There's hope gleaming in each one of them, joy emanating from their full-bellied laughs, and she cuts through the waves with delight as she watches over them.
A gust of wind fills her sails while she keeps an eye out for approaching vessels, drinking up the peaceful day. She sees Ruby and Grace retreat below as Emma steps forward and picks up a sword, joining in the practice with Dopey and Killian. The Princess is smiling mischievously when she raises her sword in challenge to Killian and a few minutes later Dopey claps loudly when his princess manages to land a point. She dings her bell to acknowledge the point and everyone laughs heartily – everyone but Killian who scowls in a non-threatening way in the direction of the helm.
"You're supposed to me on my side, old girl," he calls out, making everyone laugh harder and she bounces on the waves, content in her crew's happiness.
She just hopes it lasts.
K&EK&EK&E
Regina alights from the carriage and immediately brings a handkerchief to her nose. She's always despised the smell of the ocean. Glancing around, her eyes land on the milliner shop, now boarded up with a 'closed' sign hanging on the door. Without hesitation, she waves her hand and the door swings wide. Her knights enter the establishment immediately and she follows behind them, her eyes searching every corner.
The man did have a very nice selection of hats, she thinks begrudgingly as she looks around. Stepping forward, she plucks one from a shelf and pulls it on, ignoring the commotion surrounding her as her knights ransack the place.
"His office, my queen," one calls, indicating a door along the back wall.
As she crosses the room, she takes a moment to stop before a mirror to check her reflection and smiles at the striking picture she makes.
"I'll be keeping this one," she murmurs to herself, "It would be a pity for it to go to waste."
By the time she makes it to the office, her knights have already pulled every drawer from the desk and managed to pry open the safe. They look to her nervously and her blood boils when she realizes every single one is empty.
"Scour the entire building," she barks, not even taking the time to see if they obey as she crosses to the desk. She bends down to examine each slot where the drawers had been but she already knows it's futile. Someone with this kind of operation isn't likely to leave anything behind by accident.
"Dammit," she growls, upturning the desk with a wave of her hand then sending it flying into the wall.
She marches out the door and back out onto the street, her eyes scanning the nearby shops. Someone here knows something, she thinks to herself. She just needs to find them and persuade them to talk.
K&EK&EK&E
Settling on a crate, Emma raises her face to drink in the sun's rays, listening contentedly to Killian's voice instructing Dopey on his stance, the supportive words he uses to encourage his student and the occasion chuckle of surprise when Dopey executes a more difficult move. It brings an unconscious smile to her lips and she breathes deep, enjoying the sound of his laughter in the air.
"You're a natural, my friend," Killian praises the dwarf. "Now, try this."
Emma doesn't look to see what move Killian is demonstrating but she hears the shuffle of his booted feet across the planks followed a moment later by the slightly lighter sound of Dopey's attempt to mimic it. She'd been practicing with them earlier but decided to take a break to enjoy the wind her face and the sun on her skin. She feels the warm metal of the sword hilt still in her hand as she breathes in the salty air of the ocean, the heaviness of her muscles from her earlier workout a welcome feeling, reminiscent to her many lessons when she was younger.
A sound to her right has her opening her eyes to see Ruby settling down next to her, holding out a plate of food with one hand and munching on a crust of bread with the other. Emma takes the plate and lays it in her lap, picking up a piece of dried beef and taking a bite.
"So, I assume it went well?" Ruby asks out of the corner of her mouth, her eyes focused on the lesson happening in the middle of the deck and her voice low enough that no one else can hear.
Emma knew this was coming. Ruby has been trying to get her alone all day, giving her questioning looks and knowing glances over Grace's head while they'd entertained the little girl earlier. Blushing, she turns to her friend and she prays anyone looking their way will attribute her raise in color to the sun's rays and not the rise in body temperature that spikes through her at the memory.
"It was…" she trails off, trying to think of a word that would do justice to the night before, "beautiful."
"Good," Ruby says simply, then turns back to Killian and Dopey.
Emma follows her gaze just in time to see Killian execute a perfect lunge, his shirt stretched across his shoulders and his pants tight around his hips. He's not wearing his coat again today and now his shirt is white instead of black with no vest donned to cover it. He's absolutely stunning, his hook gleaming in the sunlight as he demonstrates a spin, his blade stopping abruptly to change direction in a deft movement that would surely catch any opponent off guard.
"It will only get better, you know," Ruby comments from beside her, drawing her out of the awe she feels watching Killian.
"I'm not sure how," Emma replies with a grin.
"Trust me," Ruby says with a mischievous quirk of her eyebrow.
And it does.
Later that evening, Killian takes her in his arms and massages the dull ache in her muscles from the day's sword practice. He caresses her skin as they wash together in front of the water basin, slowly revealing each other's bodies. Once they're clean and dry he scoops her up and carries her to bed, easing her down onto the mattress with a soft glow in his eyes, his mouth brushing light kisses to her temple.
He uses his lips to worship her breasts, his hand gliding along her waist and making goose flesh break out in its wake. He takes her back to that gorgeous place where her body zings with pleasure by using his fingers on her center and his mouth on her neck, then he's sinking into her while she's still coming down, the absolute perfection of it making her sigh out his name.
His smile is easy when he meets her eyes, his fingers running lovingly through her hair when he bends to kiss her slow and lingeringly. Her heart thuds into her ribs when he teases at her nipple, her mind never really escaping the fog of her first orgasm before he starts building her to a second. She only makes the slightest sound of disappointment when he eases out before she reaches it, flipping them both so that she's on top of him.
She gives him a curious smile to which he replies, "Your turn to be in control, love. Take me inside of you and show me where it feels best."
The thrill that goes down her spine at his words makes her giddy, his hand guiding her to sink down onto him, the languid rub of her breasts over his chest combining to send a jolt all the way to her toes. She starts out tentative, not sure what exactly she should do, but he's patient and gentle, lifting his hips and nudging at her thigh to show her the movement.
She rocks experimentally and glories in the groan he makes, his eyes blinking shut before opening to hers again, the blue bright with pride in her. She forgets all about her own pleasure, instead focusing on his, doing her best to pull another of those delicious sounds from his lips. She changes the angle, completely focused on the flush that stains his cheeks until she hears it again, only this time it's more growl than groan, his hips surging up so fast that he nearly unseats her.
When he opens his eyes to her satisfied smile, he huffs out an amused grunt. "You're supposed to be showing me what makes you feel good, darling. If you keep on like that, I won't have the pleasure of learning the secrets of your body before I'm spent."
"And when do I get to learn the secrets of yours?" she asks.
"Just being inside of you is enough to drive me mad," he breathes, pulling her mouth to his for a soft kiss. "Now, show me what drives you mad." There's a subtle plea to his request as he glides his hand up her spine, a coaxing motion that has her moving again in a slow slide of flesh against flesh while his teeth drag along her bottom lip. "Show me, darling," he whispers again, repeating the motion with his hand to encourage her.
Somewhere in the back of mind it registers that his entreaty is about more than him learning her body, it's about her learning it as well. He wants to make it better for both of them, wants her to find her own secrets so they can share in them together, so they can be equals in this as they are in everything else. Dropping her forehead to his, she relents to his plea, closing her eyes and concentrating while she experiments with moving her hips in different angles, looking for that spot he always seems to find. His hand at her thigh urges her on in her task, his body pliant beneath her as she assesses each sensation. His eyes are heavy lidded but watchful as she experiments, his mouth dipping occasionally to work along her shoulder or neck. She tries different rhythms – faster, slower, shallower, deeper – she spreads her legs wider to press that spot where sparks gather into the coarse hair at his abdomen. It feels good but it doesn't send her blood racing the way it does when he's above her and she starts to wonder if she's doing something wrong. So, she squeezes her eyes shut and tries harder, grinding down into his hips with more determination, her fingers fisting into the sheets to get better leverage. Her movements have become erratic, but no angle seems right, the illusive pinpoint that makes her head spin nowhere to be found and she wants to whine in frustration. He makes it seem so easy. What's different about the way he moves and the way she is?
After a time, he seems to sense her uncertainty and makes a soothing sound, gripping her hip to calm her fevered movements. Embarrassment has her burrowing her face in his throat, distress rolling through her as she realizes how disappointed he must be at her inexperience. His palm finds her cheek and he tries to coax her from her hiding place but she keeps her face resolutely buried, too nervous to meet his gaze.
"Emma, darling, please look at me," he whispers and she shakes her head in response, mortified when her eyes start to sting. "Please?" he entreats again.
She draws a deep breath and releases it against his neck in huff. "I'm sorry," she says, lifting her head but keeping her eyes closed so as not to see his disappointment. "You'd think I'd be better at this considering everything I've heard about it over the years but… I just…"
He stops her words with a shushing sound, bringing her forehead to his. "Don't, love," he breathes against her mouth. "You're incredible. You're just thinking too much. Just take your time and feel it. There's no rush, we've got all night."
While he speaks, he keeps his maimed arm wrapped around her waist to hold her still and uses his hand to grasp her wrist to get her to unfurl her tightly closed fingers from the sheets. Bringing her hand to his mouth, he places a wet kiss to the center of her palm, the simply affectionate act coaxing her body to relax. She watches, fascinated, while his tongue traces nonsense into the sensitive skin of her palm, his eyes blinking open to meet hers when his teeth nip lightly. Her breath catches and his eyes twinkle, moving her hand away from his mouth and laying it on his chest, revealing a playful smile.
He's right, she was thinking too much, trying too hard. It's not about finding the right angle or rhythm. It's about feeling this connection between them; it's about being open and vulnerable with each other and relishing this natural magnetism they've shared for as long as she's known him.
She starts moving again, slowly this time, meeting his lips for a tender kiss. She concentrates on the feel of his mouth, lets her hands wander over his neck and slide down his chest until she's forced to raise up a bit to make room for them. His eyes are watching her intently and she sees them dilate when her fingers run across his nipples. It's then that she feels an answering tingle in her own body, a subtle little jolt that makes her sigh.
He notices her reaction and groans. "That's it, darling. Do that again," he whispers.
When she does, the tingle gets stronger, enough so that her breath hitches. She chases that sensation, repeating the movement again and again until the tingle spreads down her thighs and she doesn't have to think about what she's doing anymore. Opening her eyes, she keeps the rhythm going as she closes the distance and kisses him, delving deep in his mouth with a hot mating of tongues and teeth. When they break apart, they're smiling at each other, hers filled with wonder and his filled with pride.
His hand finds its way to her breast, cupping its weight in his palm. His eyes lower to watch while his thumb glides over the hardened peak and she gasps, lifting her torso a little higher to give his hand more room.
"Do you like that, love?" he asks huskily, and she nods in response, too overwhelmed to speak.
There's a dark chuckle that comes from him and she feels the vibrations of it echo in her center, then he dips his chin to pull her free nipple into his mouth and she cries out, a wanton sound that she doesn't even try to contain.
"Then let's try this," he murmurs, moving his hand to beneath him and pushing them both up until she's straddling his lap.
She groans at the way he slides deeper into her from this new position, his lips seeking hers as she settles into him. It's like she's taller than him this way and she bends her neck to keep their mouths together, surprised at how powerful it makes her feel. She cups his face in both hands and directs his head to the side to sweep her tongue through his mouth while his arm moves to her back, pressing her into his body.
She gets lost in the kiss for a moment, not realizing that her hips have stilled until he gives her waist a light squeeze. In response, she rolls forward, tightening her thighs around him and grinding down, making him break the kiss and hiss through his teeth. "Bloody fu – "
Lightning shoots straight to her pulsing center when he cuts off in the middle of the curse, the knowledge that he's seemingly forgotten himself for an instant making her feel decadent and brazen. She rocks again and he whimpers softly, digging his teeth into his lower lip before meeting her eyes with a wrecked expression that makes her smile down at him.
His eyes darken with determination and he pushes up in retaliation, making stars appear behind her eyes and her forehead fall onto his. She hears his low growl of victory a moment before he lowers his head and takes a nipple into his mouth, causing the stars to explode out until her entire body is full of them, twinkling bits of fire that race and meet in the spot where they're joined.
She thinks maybe she moaned or gasped but she's not sure because all she hears is his triumphant voice against her breast, "There it is, darling. I knew you'd find it."
Her skin heats from the pounding blood, then his lips latch back onto her nipple and she pushes into his hips, her knees digging into the mattress and her hand clamping into his hair. She arches her back to give his lips better access to her chest, realizing that sitting on his lap like this makes it easier for him to reach her breasts even while they're joined. She smiles wide at that knowledge and looks down under her lashes to see his tongue darting out to catch one rosy peak, sight of his dark hair and pink lips stirring the already chaotic fire into a maelstrom of sensations that assaults every nerve in her body. She watches him work for a moment, each swipe shooting vibrations down her thighs that make her motions stutter, so she stills and revels in the sight of him teasing at her flesh without distraction while he nibbles and sucks, her hand moving to his jaw to stroke lightly.
He must realize she's gone still and he lifts his eyes to hers without releasing her nipple, his eyebrow raised at a cocky and confident angle when he nips at the tip and leans back, replacing his mouth with his hand.
"Does that feel good, love?" he asks in a low voice while his hand continues to knead her breast, his thumb teasing the peak.
"It does," she replies without shame, her voice breathless and gravelly.
"And how about this?" He keeps his eyes on hers, dipping his head back to her breast while, at the same time, his hand sweeps down her torso to thumb at her throbbing core.
Her hips jerk violently and her eyes clamp shut, his low chuckle sending pulsations shooting from the taut peak to every nerve ending in her body. "Yes," she manages on a choked sound, forcing her eyes to reopen so she can look into his.
His left arm squeezes against her lower back as he repeats the action with his mouth and thumb, the added drag of him inside her stealing her breath to the point where she can't make a sound. She arches her back to increase the pressure of his thumb and he groans his approval, sucking and nipping at her nipple with abandon.
"Can you ride me while I do this, darling?" he asks in a rough voice, his eyes staying focused on the breast in front of him while his hand cups and lifts it to right in front of his mouth. "Just… " His left arm tightens and pushes her down in the same moment his tongue darts out and licks over the hardened peak and she cries out at the overwhelming combination.
She nods frantically in answer to his question even though he can't see it as he groans and sucks harder, burying his face in her chest. He doesn't need to see her answer anyway, the thrusting of her hips more than an adequate response. He loosens the arm on her back and lets her set the pace, sucking at her nipple lavishly while moving his thumb back down to rub at her again. When she whimpers, he breaks from her breast long enough to swallow the sound with his mouth and her head falls forward to land against his. He starts to dip back to her breast but she stops him with a hand on his chin, holding him still so she can devour his lips with her own. Her hips are now moving of their own accord, chasing the pulses that ignite with each roll and she straightens one arm down his back, digging her nails into his spine and pulling him closer each time. His hand gets caught between them, his thumb still pressing into her throbbing center and she leverages the next stroke so that she can glide against it.
He's been so concentrated on her that it's a thrill when whimpers, allowing himself a moment to focus on his own pleasure. His voice is broken when he presses their noses together, his hand yanking from between them and tangling in her curls. "That's right, love. Just keep doing that. It's so good, darling. You feel so good," he whispers against her lips.
Her heart skips a beat and her hips grind down harder. The familiar tightness starts to build and she gropes at his lower back to pull him to her with each downward thrust, desperate to get closer, to feel more of him with each roll. As though he's read her mind, he his hand finds purchase on her hip to help her, but it's still not enough. Then, in a move that surprises even herself, she plants her hands on his shoulders and pushes him roughly down to the bed in order to give herself more room to move. He gasps loudly and so does she when she takes advantage of the freedom, swiveling her hips in a sensuous slide that she swears makes her feel him all the way to the back of her throat. All rational thought leaves her mind after that, and she plants one hand in the center of his chest and bows back, the other hand locking beneath his thigh and digging her nails in to pull herself down with hard, rough thrusts.
Stilted grunts slip from her lips but she doesn't care, the way she feels more of him with each thrust the only focus she has. It's starting, the tendrils of fire licking across her skin as his voice breaks through the haze. "That's it, take what you need, love. Gods, you look amazing riding me. Don't stop."
Her cheeks flush from the dirty command, but she doesn't stop, continuing the demanding sway of her hips. It feels fantastic, the compete abandonment of uncertainties and the feel of his thick cock gliding through the drenched heat of her core making her ravenous for more. Biting the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming out, she throws her head back and glories in it, both hands moving to his chest as she gives over to the urgency suddenly racing in her blood.
She hears him say something else, but she doesn't catch it, her blood pounding too loud in her ears as the pleasure gathers into a tight ball. There's a rumble in her chest that she realizes filters through her mouth and the ecstasy bursts, drenching her senses in euphoria. She holds still for one blissful second then she shudders hard and – fuck – the orgasm is so intense she thinks perhaps her bones have melted in the heat of it.
Before she has completely recovered, she hears Killian's violent grunt and she pries her eyes open. He thrusts his hips one last time, yanking her forward with his fingers digging into her thigh and goes completely still, his eyes clamped shut and his mouth falling open. The realization that she's witnessing him come brings on a wave of tremors and she watches him shudder through it, his cock twitching inside her and his warm seed filling her womb. It makes her hum in her chest when he bites as his lower lip, his face a mask of nothing but pleasure. He's gorgeous like this, with that flush on his cheeks and his jaw clenched and gods, she wants to make him look like that again and again.
After a moment of watching him, he opens his eyes and a grin spreads across his features. "You're bloody fantastic, darling," he rasps, grasping one of her wrists to drag her down on top of him. "How on earth did the men in that village resist you?"
He doesn't give her time to answer before his mouth is on hers and she chuckles into the kiss, still breathless but so happy that she can't hold back her smile. "You try living with seven men who are known for carrying axes and an old woman who is a proven marksman with a crossbow and see how many suitors are brave enough to court you."
"Aye, I suppose that would prove to be quite the deterrent," he agrees, rubbing his nose playfully against hers.
He falls quiet after that, his eyes closing and his fingers finding the back of her neck to massage it slowly. She doesn't want to move and he doesn't seem to be in a hurry for her to, so she closes her eyes and enjoys the feel of his touch, both her body and her heart sated and happy.
K&EK&EK&E
Regina stands over the lax form of the fallen woman and lets the dust that was once her heart filter through her fingers to the floor. Overwhelming rage rockets through her as she stares at the red ringlet curls, realizing that in her state of anger, she'd crushed the heart before she'd gotten the answers to all the questions she'd wanted to ask.
Dammit! It had been an accident. She hadn't intended to crush it, but when the simpering little tramp had told her Captain Hook had been in the company of a dwarf…. Well, she'd fisted her hand and… this happened.
A dwarf. There's no way it's a coincidence. The princess and her band of misfits are now aligned with her most elusive adversary.
Glancing around the tavern, she scans the crowd of people but none of them are brave enough to meet her eyes. She considers picking one at random, but before she has the time to decide, the doors swing open with a loud bang and soldiers in gold armor march into the room. She draws a frustrated breath as watches them take their positions, one for each of her knights and another line that surrounds her, effectively guarding all the patrons. As soon as they have all filed in, they move as one, spreading their feet with a unified step that rings through the rafters, followed by the thud of every sword tip being planted into the wooden floor. It's an impressive display, the discipline and cadence of a well-trained group of men who show no fear in the face of danger, and Regina reluctantly admires the efficiency Katherine's soldiers possess, no doubt a direct result of her husband's background.
Speaking of the king and queen, they are the last to enter, two of their soldiers pivoting to the side to allow them into the inner circle where Regina stands. They come to a stop directly before her, Katherine's hands demurely folded in front of her while Frederick holds his sword at the ready.
"Hello Regina," Katherine says with a regal tilt of her head.
"Katherine," she replies with an exaggerated nod, "Frederick."
Katherine's husband doesn't say anything, but the hand holding the sword twitches just before Katherine's hand lands on his wrist (and it's a good thing, too, because the man's fate was only an instant away from joining the whore at her feet). The couple shares a look and Frederick relents, nodding to his wife and loosening his grip on the weapon.
It's a smart move but not at all surprising. Katherine has always been the pragmatic one. She knows Regina could easily immobilize all of their men with a flick of her wrist, so she knows violence is not the answer. And, as much as Regina is loath to admit it, she knows she can't use violence, either. Severing ties with Katherine would be foolish. She depends too much on the gold she sends in payment to keep her lands safe – not that Katherine needs to know that. So, she laces her fingers together and straightens her shoulders while the women wordlessly assess each other. It's been a long time since they've been face to face and Regina begrudgingly admires the sharp eyes of the woman who once jilted by that pathetic little sheep farmer. In fact, that sudden memory brings on the possibility that Katherine could become a valuable ally, something she is in sore need of at this point.
Katherine gets right down to business, her cool eyes landing on the prone body on the floor before flashing with anger.
"Might I ask what offense this woman committed?" she asks, her calm voice in direct contrast to her tense posture.
Okay, so maybe allies is a bit of a stretch.
Regina juts out her chin. "She had information I needed."
Katherine raises an elegant eyebrow. "And did you get it?"
"Some of it," she replies as flippantly as she can manage.
Katherine's demeanor changes, a knowing and slightly smug look crossing her features that has Regina gritting her teeth. King Midas's daughter is sometimes a little too perceptive. "Well, perhaps your methods of investigation need some refinement. But – " she adds quickly, raising a hand to cut off Regina's scathing retort, "it just so happens that I think I know what you're looking for. And it seems our… methods produce better results than yours. You're looking for a certain pirate captain, yes?"
"Yes."
"Then you should have come to me first," she admonishes with another quick flash of her eyes, but quickly recovers, adding in a more civil tone, "We've already conducted an investigation into this matter and, if you'll join me for a ride, I'll be happy to share with you what we've learned."
Regina pretends to considers that for a moment, glancing around the now overcrowded tavern. She really has no choice if she wishes to keep being supplied with gold, a position she absolutely abhors being in, but she doesn't want to agree too quickly. After a thoroughly tense moment while several of the patrons shift on their feet, she finally turns back to Katherine. "By all means, Your Majesty."
Katherine motions for Regina to precede her through the exit with an exaggerated wave of her hand, but instead of following, the queen hangs back long enough to whisper something to Frederick. The king nods to his wife and motions to his men but he, himself, stays behind. As the doors to the tavern swing shut, Regina catches a quick image of Frederick pulling out a purse of gold.
"He's going to make sure the family is compensated if, in fact, there is one," Katherine says coolly, her sharp eyes meeting and holding with Regina's.
Regina doesn't comment on the statement. How Katherine wastes her gold is none of her business. It's not like she's hurting for it at any rate.
"So, what is it that you've learned?" Regina asks.
Gathering her skirts, Katherine steps into the awaiting carriage. "I'll tell you on the way."
"The way where?" Regina asks suspiciously.
"I'm escorting you from my land," Katherine replies, sitting back and straightening her skirts as Regina settles across from her.
"You're what?!"
This time she doesn't bother keeping her voice level. "You broke our deal, Regina. You've just killed one of my subjects and your knights have been wreaking havoc on my kingdom. You're lucky I'm not cutting you off entirely. But this is the only warning you'll get. The gold stops the moment you or any of your knights set foot on my land again."
"You think I need your gold?"
Regina tries to sound derisive but Katherine doesn't buy it.
"Yes, I do," she states matter-of-factly, "You may have learned a great deal from your teacher, but spinning straw into gold was not one of them."
Regina's hand fists automatically, itching to produce a fireball and send it soaring through the woman's smug face. Katherine's eyes flit to her tightly fisted hand, her demeanor completely relaxed and Regina reluctantly loosens her fingers. She can't kill the queen and apparently, Katherine knows it, the gold she sends is too valuable to give in to a fit of temper.
Once the moment has passed, Katherine quirks a smile and looks to the scenery outside the window, asking idly, "Speaking of Rumpelstiltskin, would you care to visit him before you leave? His… monument is on our way."
"I've seen it before," she replies dully.
"I know. You tried everything you could think of to return him to life," Katherine comments with a dark edge to her voice.
The remark surprises her and Katherine notices, the smug smile returning. "Do you think I don't know what goes on in my kingdom?" At her silence, Katherine's voice turns sincerely curious, leaning slightly forward in her seat, "I never got the impression you were that fond of him and yet you worked tirelessly to free him. Why is that, I wonder?"
Regina keeps her silence again. If Katherine had magic, she'd be a true threat. She's not one to mince words and she's too perceptive for her own good. On top of that, she's smart. She knew exactly what she was doing when she entered that tavern. She knew Regina would have no choice but to relent. But she has no idea how close she is to uncovering a nearly three decade's old secret.
No, Regina was never fond of Rumpelstiltskin. She'd never cared about him in the least. What she cared about was the scroll he'd been carrying when King Midas, disguised as a peasant, managed to get close enough to turn him to gold. No one knows what that scroll was, no one realizes the importance of it, no one understands that it was that act that saved everyone in this ruddy realm from being ripped to another land where all their happy endings would have been snatched away from them.
She'd been so close to winning, so close to her own happy ending, so close to exacting her revenge and reaping the benefits of having her very own place where she could rule with impunity, sit back and watch all of her enemies flounder and flail about, never knowing they were actually Kings and Queens, Princes and Princesses…
She realizes she's squirming in her seat and she stills, glancing up to see Katherine's expectant expression.
"He was a valuable teacher," she says in way of explanation to the woman's earlier question.
Katherine's look is one that clearly says she isn't fooled, but she doesn't have time to say anything else before the carriage jerks to a stop. She turns to the window. "We're here," she says.
Regina glances outside to see they've come to the end of what appears to be a dead-end path. "Here?" she asks, "I thought you were escorting me from your land."
Katherine huffs. "I keep my deals, Regina. And I said I'd tell you what we've learned about Captain Hook."
Katherine exits the carriage and Regina follows. As soon as they are on the ground, Katherine waves a hand toward the entrance of a cave. "This is the cave where your black knights held an innocent child captive in order to get her father to cooperate."
"The Hatter's child, you mean?"
"Yes."
Regina wants to roll her eyes over the admonishment in the woman's voice. The concern some royals show to their subjects amazes her sometimes. "And what does this have to do with Captain Hook?" she asks in a bored tone.
Katherine's eyes harden but she lets it go. "I believe the captain aided in the little girl's rescue."
That news isn't at all surprising to Regina since she knows the Hatter is now with Captain Hook. She's actually much more interested in who else the captain came in contact with while in town but she follows along behind Katherine, waiting for the right moment to ask and listening with only one ear as the queen goes on, "We found four of your knight's dead bodies hidden in the foliage over…"
Regina stops dead in her tracks as Katherine continues her dialogue but Regina doesn't hear another word. There's an echo of something in the wind slithering along her skin and inexplicable panic rises up in her throat, the air growing thick around her and her breath coming in laborious pants. She sees Katherine turn to look at her questioningly but she doesn't offer an explanation, she just looks to the blood staining the grass at her feet, a sense of foreboding filling her chest. There's something sinister here, some remnant of energy that makes the air difficult for her to breathe.
She feels her eyes widen as comprehension slams through her system.
Magic.
K&EK&EK&E
He's fairly certain she's fallen asleep atop him, her breathing even with her head tucked under his chin and her hand directly over his heart. Not that he minds. His own muscles are still sated and slack, the warmth of her body covering his bringing a sense of tranquility as he slides his fingers through her hair.
"Mmmm, that feels nice," she murmurs, surprising him.
"I thought you were asleep," he replies.
"Not yet, but keep that up and I will be before long."
He keeps it up, untangling the silken mass down her back and loving her occasional sound of appreciation. Softy, he twines a bit of it around his finger and lets it unfurl across his arm, the silky strands tickling his skin. Releasing a contented sigh, he kisses the top of her head and she shivers.
"Are you cold, love?" he asks, but the only response she gives is a small shrug of her shoulder, apparently so close to sleep that she doesn't even attempt to speak.
He reaches for the blanket, trying to extricate it from where its partially covered by their bodies but it resists. Raising his hips from the mattress, he gives it one rough jerk and his arm hits the ledge, knocking something with his hand. There's a clatter and then Emma lifts her head, looking adorably drowsy as she reaches for whatever fell. Taking advantage of the lightened weight on his chest, he manages to get the blanket out from beneath them and props himself up, coaxing Emma to turn and tuck herself into his shoulder.
She grumbles a bit from the jostling but cooperates, her hand raising to reveal the item that fell as he tucks the blanket around them. His hook comes into view and Emma twirls it in her fingers for a moment, her thumb running over the key in the base and glancing over to the chest sitting on the ledge near their feet. Panic lances through him for one brief moment when she opens her mouth to speak but she changes her mind, instead leaning over to put the hook back where it was, lying it down so gently that it doesn't make a sound as it lands on the wooden ledge. Then, keeping her eyes on the chest, she leans back and pulls both of his arms around her waist. It's a long time before she finally drifts off and neither of them break the silence.
Once he's sure she's asleep, he draws a long breath and buries his nose in her hair. He knows what she wanted to ask. He knows she's eaten with curiosity about what's in that chest. And if she had asked, he would have opened it, even though he dreads it with a ferocity that makes his stomach roil.
Most of it he longs to share with her, things he's found of hers and her family's over the years, but there's one thing… One thing he can't show her yet. And it's the one thing she needs to see.
He stares at the chest over her head. He's thought about it off and on all day, how to tell her about his past. He's done some terrible things, but there's one act that stands out above the rest. One moment when he let anger and despair push him to do something truly villainous. It's his greatest shame, his greatest regret, and the item that prompted that horrendous act lays coiled up with everything else in that locked box of trinkets.
He knows he's being selfish keeping it from her, stealing these beautiful memories that she may one day in the not-so-distant-future see him unfit to have. But he needs more of them, more nights with her in his arms, more days filled with joy and laughter. After all, memories may be the only thing he has left after… after he tells her… what he did.
He squeezes his eyes shut and pulls her closer. "Soon, love," he promises to her slumbering form. Soon, he'll open it and show her what's inside. He'll lay his heart at her feet and beg her forgiveness.
If she can forgive him that, she can forgive him anything.
…
…
Agony. Overwhelming and complete agony drenches his being, the very last bit of hope he had blinking out in one devastating instant. He stares at the contents of the jewelry box, his hand raising in slow motion to the piece sitting on top. When his fingers brush along the metal, his heart turns cold in his chest and his eyes gloss over.
He hears the questioning and concerned tone in the voice of one of his crew members behind him but he doesn't even have the will to try to comprehend the words. He just stands stock still as the memory assaults him, making everything else fade away.
It's some space of time later that he feels a presence at his back, then he hears Jeff's voice issuing quiet orders, a muted shuffling of feet and then complete silence.
"Are those what I think they are?" Jeff asks from beside him and Killian nods, the tight lump in his throat preventing him from speaking.
Jeff doesn't say anything else, he simply lays his hand on Killian's shoulder in understanding and support. He's never discussed his vague hope with Jeff before. He knew it was next to impossible, but now… well, now even that sliver of hope is gone.
Just… gone.
It's too much agony and his lungs start to burn, a heavy knot forming in his stomach that has him falling sharply to his knees. He doesn't even feel pain lancing up his legs at the hard contact with the floor, his entire body going numb except for the burning in his chest until it, too, fades out and there's just… nothing. There's nothing left to hope for, nothing left to live for. He wants to die, to sink through the wooden planks beneath him and continue sinking until his bones settle on the ocean floor. Closing his eyes, he wills his heart to stop beating, he prays to whatever god may be listening to take pity on him and allow him to forfeit this life.
Let me die, let me die, the mantra repeats in his head. Please, let me die.
He realizes his prayer will go unanswered when the hand still on his shoulder squeezes hard enough for the physical pain of it to penetrate through the numbness, everything around him coming back into acute focus. He wants to scream, to curse the fate that brought him here, but the words won't come, his throat too constricted to utter so much as a single sound.
Slowly, he forces his stiff muscles to stand, reaching into the jewelry box and picking up the treasure. Anguish and fury mix together when he grips it, holding it tightly until the cool metal has warmed in his hand, then he pivots and stalks out of the room.
He ascends to the deck, not looking anyone in the eye as he crosses back to the Jolly. Jeff stays on his heels, calling out to the rest of the crew to return to their ship. He watches with rage simmering in his throat as his men release the merchant ship from the hooks they'd used to tether the vessels together.
Once the ship is a safe distance away, he softly issues the command. "Sink it."
Jefferson, who is still next to him, stands straighter but doesn't say anything.
"I'm sorry?" one of the crew members asks.
"SINK IT!" he shouts back, loud enough this time that his entire crew stops what they're doing to look at him with disbelief.
"But Captain, they surrendered without a f – "
His vision actually goes red with fury. "MAN THE CANNONS AND SINK THE BLOODY FUCKING SHIP!"
The men closest to him shrink back at the force of his command while several others shuffle their feet uncomfortably. Another moment passes as they all stare, many of them looking questioningly to Jefferson.
"Sink it," Jeff confirms in a steady voice.
He can tell the men are confused by the order but they do as they're bidden, a sudden bustle of activity ensuing as they prepare the cannons to fire. Killian walks to the bow and waits, his eyes trained on the unsuspecting vessel until he hears Jeff's clear and emotionless voice.
"Ready to fire, Captain."
He tightens his grip on the jewels.
"Fire."
A/N: Since I came up with this idea, I've been dying to do a segment in the Jolly Roger's perspective. If you don't mind, please let me know what you thought?
Thank you for your support!