Chapter 8.
She dreamt of being cradled in dead arms and being held in the coils of a black snake that hissed and spit icy venom. Then she was falling. Suddenly Regina was before her, laughing lowly as her parents disappeared in a cloud of purple-black smoke and the her son screaming for her, reaching out to her from where he was encircled in Regina's arms, but despite how desperately she tried, she could not reach him. She screamed his name, watching as he too vanished in a plume of smoke, and she was left alone in the darkness, running.
But the strings that now directed her limbs, as if she were a marionette, got tangled and she fell. Thrashing, she could not free herself as her limbs became more and more entangled, until she was unable to move at all. She screamed and begged her parents, Henry, anyone, to help her, but no one answered and she was left bound, alone, and hopeless in the dark.
Then there was music. A sweet lullaby as ancient as the Forest itself, and it swirled around her, soothing her fears and loosening her bonds. A warm feeling bloomed inside her, soothing her, while all around her the smell of the ocean breeze swirled. Then in the distance, she watched a shimmering form of white dance its way through the darkness, getting closer. She didn't know what it was, but she felt no fear from it, for somehow she knew that it was familiar to her, like a lullaby, long forgotten.
It shimmered and swayed to the gentle music that surrounded them, leaving trails of fading illumination and sparks behind it, like a living torch of pure light. For a while she watched it and her eyes could not perceive any finite form, but slowly, so gradually she didn't realize it was happening until it was finished, the light shifted into the form of a swan flying gracefully about her. She watched as it finally landed gracefully.
A black snake reared up in front of it, hissing and spitting, trying to bite at its neck. She felt terror begin to disturb her peace as the snake lunged, managing to get around the swan to begin wrapping around its body. It coiled more and more tightly as its head reared back, until the swan was completely pinned. But it seemed to show no concern over its own predicament and it slowly dipped its head until it and the black snake where eye to eye, staring. Waiting.
She awoke very suddenly to semi-darkness and the small of the sea. She tried to get her bearings groggily. Why was her bed swaying? Her bed didn't sway. Then she jerked upright as the memories of the last day rushed back. Regina. Her family. Her kingdom. Henry. The Dark One. She began to tear up, sniffling in an attempt to try and keep the tears at bay.
She was pulled from her sorrows when she thought she heard something like whispering, but it was put from her mind when floorboards creaked near the open doorway and suddenly light illuminated the cabin as it poured through the doorway. Someone was standing outside whatever room she was in. Panic seized her as she tried to gracefully slide from her bed. Which she discovered was not a bed when she shifted and it dumped her unceremoniously onto the floor.
The wood around her creaked for a moment, and it was like a ghost of a laugh reached her ears, but then the light source began to dim as a floorboard farther from the doorway creaked.
"Hello? Who's there? Da-dark One?" she called timidly, but there was no answer. The light did seem to get closer to the doorway before moving away again. Like it was waiting. She got to her feet, wondering why she was so unsteady before the smell and sway clicked with the slightly sloping wood beneath her feet. She was on a ship. His ship. She swallowed, forcing back the prickling of tears and made her way toward the doorway, cautiously looking around it to try and catch a glimpse of whoever was holding the lantern.
But there was no one there, just an overhead oil lamp swaying slightly back and forth, illuminating a small patch of the passageway and a black char mark curving up the hull. She wondered how in the world it had been lit when she heard a creak from down the passageway behind her, and the darkness farther down the walkway was illuminated from a light around a corner. Was this some kind of game for the Dark One's amusement? She hesitated, wondering if she should just stay in her little swing bed.
But then she heard the distant whispering again. There had to be someone there. So she carefully made her way forward, preparing to meet him or some other horrid creature when she turned the corner, but there was again no one. She felt fear building, but it was also accompanied by a strange sort of curiosity. And the sense of faint singing. She wasn't sure if it was lingering from her dreams though, for when she stopped to try and really listen for it, she could not hear it any more.
So she continued forward, from narrow hall to narrow hall until she rounded one last corridor. A single lamp hung from the rafter of a short hallway that led to to a single door. And as she watched, she heard the lock click open and the door unlatch, before she watched it crack open ever so slightly. But as the door opened, it seemed to unleash a gust of wind that swept by her, extinguishing the lantern, sending a shiver of apprehension down her spine and leaving her in darkness.
She quickly turned, but was shocked to see the way behind her was now pitch black. She turned back, feeling her limbs start to tremble as she saw soft light slipping through the crack open door. So she carefully walked forward and when she stood just before the doorway and raised her hand to knock, the door swung open completely.
She felt terror well up and for a moment she hesitated, but just as she was about to turn back, she thought she heard the soft singing again. It was almost like it whispered strength and courage straight into her soul and she found the will to step over the threshold and into the room.
It was dark, except for the moonlight spilling in through the glass windows at the back of the room. Curious, she walked forward, slightly startled when her feet encountered soft and plush carpet. She slowly wandered further into the room, taking in a ladder just to her right that seemed to lead to above deck, and a built in wardrobe just beyond it. Books lined up against the curving wall under the window and there was a table surrounded by chairs at the center of the room, both bare of any sort of decorative adornment. Right in front of the doorway was a small bunk, the blankets pulled tight and the pillows arranged just so. Against the wall across from the bunk was a small side table and several chests. And while the room was plain, the ornamentation on the wooden cross beams, gilt with gold, indicated fine craftsmanship.
Suddenly she realized exactly where she was. The Captain's Quarters. Her heart doubled its pace and she turned to flee the room, terrified of what he might do when she heard a quiet groan. She froze, unsure if it had been real or not. For a long moment the darkness was undisturbed and she was about to turn away when it came again, louder this time.
It sounded like someone in pain. Her heart clenched, and her maternal instinct to soothe and protect flared up and drove her cautiously around the desk. What she saw brought her up short. A dark form was leaning up against the siding, just under the windows, slumped over, clearly unconscious. She saw several bottles shimmer bleakly in the moonlight around him.
Part of her wanted to leave him, as what ailed him had become abundantly clear. But remembering the sorrow behind the darkness in his eyes, something compelled her heart and with a light sigh, borne partly from exasperation at him and partly from apprehension of his reaction to her intrusion should he wake, she stepped forward.
She softly crept up and knelt down beside him, getting a sudden nose full of the acrid smell of stale rum and body sweat. She wrinkled her nose before carefully reaching out to brush his arm, wondering if that might wake him enough to get him to stand. She knew she wouldn't be able to lift him up by her own power.
At her touch, he whimpered slightly, flinching in his sleep, but she could a slit of blue as his eyes barely opened. They looked almost white in the moonlight. She watched as their glossy gaze moved around the darkened room, trying to understand. She brushed his arm again and they finally wandered onto her face. The fierce coldness and stern power that had frozen her in their encounter on the beach was gone. Now he just looked lost and weary, and though she felt fear, she was also certain that he was not really aware, despite being awake. The thought gave her the courage she needed to stay.
"Am I dead?" he whispered quietly. His voice was hoarse, like he had been screaming. His eyes roamed her form without recognition as he waited for her to answer him.
"No," she answered softly, wondering why that would be his first thought. And why he said it with what sounded like relief.
His brow furrowed. "I'm not?" he rasped, sounding disappointed.
And in that moment, despite knowing exactly what he was and what the stories said he had done, he looked so much like her son when he was in need of comfort that she couldn't help reaching forward to gently brush the fringe of his hair away from his face. As her touch, a visible tremor passed through him and he closed his eyes, gently pressing his face into her palm. In that moment, she suddenly felt that despite all the power and all the darkness that dwelled in him, under it all, he was just a sad and broken man.
They stayed that way for a long while, her hand on his cheek as he leaned into the comfort she freely offered. Though his eyes were closed, she could tell he was still awake, for every once and awhile, his brows would twitch and furrow and then his head would shake slightly, like a displeasing thought had crossed his mind and he was trying to be rid of it.
But eventually, she knew he was wandering perilously close to falling asleep again, so she slowly withdrew her hand, her heart clenching when what like an involuntary whimper passed from his lips before his eyes cracked open again.
"Can you stand?" she asked quietly. He blinked and looked down at his legs, as if considering a new concept. Then without responding, he slowly shifted to try and get his feet under him. He managed to get one knee under himself before he began to sway forward and instinctively she ducked her head under his arm, wrapping an arm about his waist and the other holding tightly to his arm just above his hook. She could feel the brace through the material of his sleeve, only just realizing that his leather great coat and vest were missing, leaving him in only a linen shirt and leather trousers.
As they moved slowly to the bed, her supporting a majority of his weight, she thought she heard him murmur, "You've never helped me to bed before, old girl." Her brow furrowed but she didn't bother asking him to clarify, as he was obviously delirious enough to think she was someone else. But it made her curious to know who he thought was saving him from himself. They finally made it to the neatly made bunk. She eased him down on top of the covers, knowing she would never be able to get him beneath the covers.
She noticed when he braced his hand on the bed he winced. Once he had slowly rolled to lay on his back and his weight was settled, she quickly pulled his boots and socks off, throwing them to the opposite corner of the room, before whispering softly, "Let me see your hand." He blinked up at her from where he had allowed his head to fall, brow furrowing again as he tried to figure out what she was asking.
Sensing that he wasn't going to get there anytime soon, she hesitantly reached out, careful to keep his sleeve between them, and drew his hand up to her lap. He resisted for a moment before his muscles went limp and she was able to pull his hand to where she could see it in the moonlight spilling in from the window behind her. The palm was an angry red, shiny and swollen, like a vicious burn covered his whole palm.
"How did this happen?" she gasped, heart clenching despite herself. He looked up at her worried face then down at his palm with a curious expression, like he had forgotten his skin had melted in places.
"Deserved it," he murmured, syllables beginning to slur together. She watched as his head relaxed into the bed and his eyes slid shut as he slipped into unconsciousness. She thought he was asleep as she gently traced her fingertip around the burns. The she heard one more quiet murmur.
"I deserve to burn."