Chapter 23.

He awoke suddenly. Shooting upright, he cast a glance about him, trying to orient himself, and as he took in the guest chambers he was situated in, the memory of the last day returned abruptly to his mind.

The queen's castle. The storm. The fear.

He shook his head slightly, trying to shake off the vestiges of sleep as he puzzled to himself over what had happened.

How was it possible that he kept falling asleep? He had been the Dark One for nearly thirty years, and up until the night he got drunk in his cabin, he had never slept. It was in the wake of that discovery that he had chosen to dedicate his time to creating intricate maps of any land that he could sail too, to keep his mind occupied during the many long nights.

Though he only had one hand, he had discovered that he could use his magic as an extension of his arm, holding the pages steady or turning them as he needed, instinctively commanding his power to his desires.

When he had first acquired his power, he tried to avoid using magic where he could, trying to shove away the whispers that urged him so sweetly. But as the first people called to him, he found himself using magic more and more often to uphold his end of the deals he was making. Within a few years, using his power had become as instinctive as breathing, easily bowing to his desires, though he never had to command it. But as the years had progressed, the whispers urged him to seek out knowledge, to study the craft, to empower himself further.

But the idea of becoming a student of magic reminded him too much of his predecessor. The Crocodile had never stopped trying to learn new methods of magic and trying to twist other's desires to learn to his own advantage. Despite the naggings of the darkness within, his hatred for the Crocodile ran too deep for him to even contemplate the idea of following in his footsteps.

But some behaviors that defined his nemesis were simply unavoidable due to the bargain that comes with the Dark One's power. He had no choice but to answer the call of the desprate, to adhere to the terms of the contracts, to demand reparation for his assistance, to never rest in his darkness.

That thought brought him back to the original question- how was it he had been able to sleep? He shook his head in bewilderment as his feet hit the floor, making his way to the window, observing the now clear skies that had unleashed such a tempest the night before.

Thinking of the storm suddenly brought his thoughts to the ship and the woman now aboard her. A vague memory of a woman crying for help in a darkness that did not whisper. A flash of light in the dark that did not bring comfort.

Shaking his head to dispel the vague impressions, he collected himself. He needed to send the Princess her morning meal, as well as retrieve anything she had left outside her door.

Closing his eyes, he allowed his ever present bond with his ship to pull his awareness toward his old girl. But as he strengthened his connection, something seemed to resist him, refusing to allow his power to complete the connection. Furrowing his brows, his magic instinctively reached out, probing for what was interfering with his power. A barrier extended out in all directions arching over the castle.

The blood magic barrier.

He opened his eyes with an oath. The barrier would detect any incoming or outgoing spells. So if he tried to send anything out to his ship and to the Princess, the Queen would detect it. Which of course would prompt Her Nosiness to question him and arouse her suspicion.

Sighing, he pondered what was to be done. After a few moments, he realized that he wouldn't be able to come up with a solution at the moment, and she still needed to eat. He would see to her needs now and use the remainder of the day to come up with a solution.

Or you could just leave her to die. Let her rot. It's not like you would be responsible if she died. She was the one who damned herself. You would just be letting her get along with what she wanted. It would be easy….. Dearie.

The endearment set his teeth on edge. "Be silent demon."

Ahah, none of that now, dearie.

An image flickered in the corner of his eye and he jerked around to take in the sight of The Crocodile leaning casually against the wall by the door.

"YOU?!" he flinched back. "How are you here?"

The imp straightened with a cackle, prancing forward a few steps with an extravagant flourish. "Hello there dearie."

He couldn't help but stagger away as the figure approached him, a reaction born of emotions so deeply ingrained and so deeply buried that he could not name them. At his retreat, a maniacal gleam entered the demon's yellow eyes.

"Ohho, what's the matter dearie? You look like you've seen a ghost, nyaha!"

A fury unlike anything he had felt in three decades overtook him. Yes, let the anger burn inside you. Feel the power. That hatred that makes you so strong. Use it. Welcome it. Let it fill you.

His jaw snapped shut as he snarled, taking a step back toward the shade, recovering the ground lost in his instinctive retreat. The specter raised an amused eyebrow as it sneered at him. "What are you going to do, dearie? Flash you eyes and clench your jaw at me?"

A haze of red overtook his vision, the coil of black fury clenching in his chest reared its head. The edges of his sights faded and all he could see was the path that his hook would trace as he buried it into the Crocodile's neck. His arm raised of its own accord, ready to follow the path.

But his hand hesitated when, without warning, he felt the slide of another will against his own. The demon's haughty expression flickered with irritation and panic, and the specter opened his mouth, as if to offer a hasty taunt, but the words were soundless as another voice filled his mind.

A voice as soft as wind through the leaves and carrying the wisdom of mountains. A voice that had soothed the terrors of the night and the nightmares of the day for as long as he had know to be frightened of them. A voice as gentle as the summer swells and as powerful as the northern squalls. A voice that always carried comport and kindness, sternness and guidance, laughter and music. The voice of home.

Peace, dear one.

With that quiet whisper, not a command but a plea born of heartfelt concern, a blossom of warmth bloomed in his chest and his eyes suddenly cleared. The image of the demon before him wavered, as, deep within him, he could feel the darkness spitting and hissing, trying to regain its hold. But, just as it had in his cabin, once the darkness's grip on his mind slipped, he was able to wrench himself free, and like dust in the wind, the image of his nemesis withered away to nothing.

He looked about him, panting harshly, trying to figure out when he was suddenly so chilled. As he looked down at himself, he found his answer. His whole body was trembling and his clothes were soaked through with sweat. But the sensation that captured his focus was the sensation of something draping off his shoulders, sliding over his soul, and he realized that his ship had once again utilized the power of the dagger. However, he felt no compulsion to obey, no lingering craving in his core to see the order complete. So she had not used it to command him.

"How are you doing that old girl?" he whispered, wiping a shaky hand over his face, not really expecting an answer.

I told you, dear one. I will always be with you.

His back stiffened in surprise as he again felt her whisper caress his mind. Could she reach him because she had the dagger? But then he felt the weight on his shoulders and around his soul slowly slide away, like a warm blanket being removed, until he suddenly felt a shiver as he was left alone again.

With his mind empty and clear of the fog that darkness had stirred up, he returned to the issue that had initially started his episode. The Princess. She needed food. Knowing he would need to come up with a permanent solution, he reached out to his ship again.

The connection drew his awareness to the timbers and lines that he knew so well, following them down into the Captain's Cabin. Once the connection was made, he pushed his magic past the blood barrier to summon her meal. Recalling the storm the night before, he thought she might like something indulgent, and so included drinking chocolate. He had grown fond of the drink while he traveled the desert lands, where it was first introduced to him.

Satisfied with the summoned meal, he quickly conjured up a letter, knowing that he had a limited amount of time. He directed her below decks for the day, thinking that she would probably want a reprieve from the sun and elements. Directing his focus toward the threshold outside the door, he released one last burst of magic to create a delayed summoning spell, so if she required anything, he would receive it without having to push magic through the barrier again.

Once the spell was placed, he quickly severed the connection and withdrew his power, sensing magic approaching. He only had time to tidy his appearance with a quick wave of his hand, chuckling quietly to himself as he did.

"Five, four, three, two….."

His chamber door slammed open, revealing the Evil Queen in all her gaudy glory, hair coiffed to an astounding height and neckline plunging to an indecent one.

"What are you doing?" she barked out.

"Well good morning to you too, lass," he answered with a raised eyebrow.

"Don't give me that, Captain," she sneered. "I know you used magic outside the barrier. I felt your power breaching it. Just what are you up too?"

Irritation flared up at her presumption to demand an accounting from him, and at her insolent tone. His voice went hard, "Though I am here, I do not cease to be the Dark One simply because you would prefer if I didn't use magic. I have contracts that I am obliged to honor, not that you would know anything about something like that. So I would appreciate if you'd keep your usurping nose out of my affairs."

He regretted baiting her as soon as the words left his mouth, but he could not call them back and he would not try to mitigate his words.

Her face went still, before a slow and coy smile slithered onto her face. "Oh I don't know anything about honor? Says the pirate and embodiment of darkness. And remind me how you came by your power? Oh thats right, you killed the previous Dark One. Using the information I gave you. You haven't forgotten have you?"

He felt something clench in his belly, well aware that his agreement with the Queen, and his assistance in escaping only days ago, had led to the servitude of the woman aboard his ship. Though he had not been there in person to free her, he had masterminded the delivery of the squid ink she needed to get out from the prison that held her.

Clenching his jaw, he managed a sarcastic smile, "Aye well as you said, I killed the previous Dark One and so now have his responsibilities. So I'll use magic as I please." He could see her getting ready to argue with him again, and as he didn't want to spend any more time in her company, decided to giver her ground. "However, as it happens, my obligations conclude this evening. I have one last task to see to, and then I will be fully at your …. disposal."

She considered his words, before she nodded, "Alright, I'll let you finish your little game, Captain. As it happens, I was going to seek you out today anyway."

He raised an uninterested eyebrow, "Whatever for, lass? Need me to join you this ...evening?" His tone left no doubt of his meaning, but he was slightly unsettled when her grin only grew.

"Well, Captain, how ever did you know? My coronation announcement feast is tonight, and I would very much appreciate that you be in attendance."

Trying to keep his face blank, he attempted to puzzle out what exactly she was after, but he still answered as she hoped he would, "Aye, I love a good noshing."

At his words her smile soured, and with a scoff, she disappeared in a ploom of smoke. He chuckled lightly before looking around, deciding what he was going to do with his day. He wanted to check on the horse, so maybe he should go riding.

With a thought, he appeared in the stables, startling the young lad working the hey. The boy's eyes widened in fear at his appearance, and for some reason instead of the usual coil of satisfaction he usually felt at the smell of terror, the boy's obvious fear churned his stomach.

"Morning lad," he tried, lightly. "'M here to see my horse, a black palomino with blue eyes. I fancied myself a ride this morning."

The boy still seemed frozen in fear, but as the silence after his words lengthened and nothing happened to him, the lad seemed to realize that he should be doing something.

"Oh, ya, of course sir. Right away, sir. The black palomino?"

"Aye."

"He's a beautiful horse sir," the boy pointed out as he wandered deeper into the stables. "A very smart animal sir, and gentle as a lamb."

He scoffed to himself, recalling the first encounter he had with the horse and "gentle as a lamb" was not the first description he would put to the beast, though he couldn't deny the first statement. The horse was uncannily perceptive.

As his mind ran away from him, his thoughts drifted to the horse's true owner. The princess. He wondered if she was awake yet, and if she enjoyed the meal he sent her.

What sort of pathetic mess of a man are you? Hoping she enjoyed her meal….? You sound like a servant, like her slave. Like she is your Master.

At the word the darkness whispered, he swallowed, before coming to a sudden revelation. The darkness was most active when his thoughts dwelt on the the princess, and more than that, on her welfare.

She is making you weak. She is dragging you down. You need to destroy her. Make her bow to you. Kill her!

And then it clicked. Whatever that princess had, be it her naivete, he innocence, her selfless courage, or the light she seemed to emit, the darkness was threatened by her. Ann more than that, the darkness was afraid.

He felt it begin to bubble up, as it was trying to bridge the chasm that had formed between his perception of the darkness and the perception of himself. He could feel thick tendrils coiling around his chest, and the sensation brought back the memory of those few moments in his cabin when his will had been beyond his control. And with that memory came fear. And the whispered latched on to the weakness like a vice.

If you just gave in. If you just returned to the darkness, you would have no need to fear. Stop trying to become something else, and allow yourself to revel in all the depravity you once enjoyed. Remember, you were full to the brim with darkness long before you landed the final blow. You will never be able to resist, because you ARE the darkness. These thoughts come from you. We just give you the power. The FREEDOM to see it through.

His vision went hazy as the voiceless words started to make his resolve waver. They were right, he had already fallen into darkness long before he had voices in his mind. Perhaps it would be better, easier if he just ga-

His thoughts were abruptly interrupted by velvety lips nibbling at his face. The line of thinking vanished as he jerked back with a disgusted scowl. "Oh come on now mate was that really necessary?" he grumbled, wiping his face on his sleeve as the horse pulled back to give a whicker of greeting.

Focusing now, he saw the boy standing with reins, a hopeful expression on his face. Reaching out to take them from the lad, he nodded, "Well done lad, thank you. Would you mind bringing his taking over here as well?"

"Of course sir!" The boy's enthusiasm to help amused him as he watch the lad scamper off to find the saddle. Watching for a moment with a small smile, he turned back to Dilis, who was regarding him with interest.

"How has your stay been then, eh? Hopefully more pleasant than mine, had a run in with Quaffed and Cranky this morning. Awful woman. Would recommend staying away from her."

The horse rolled his eyes good-naturedly at his words, before giving a shake.

"Aye, I could do with fresh air meself. What do you say we go find ourselves a couple of lovely lasses, eh?"

The horse looked at him blankly.

"Aye, you're probably right. Nothing in this little corner of hell to be of interest. Foolish thought."

Dilis stamped his feet, shying slightly to the side.

"A hard run it is then." He nodded in agreement with the beast, reaching out to comb through the long forelocks.

The horse did not get a chance to respond as the boy returned, huffing and puffing as he jerkily walked with the saddle resting on his hip. He watched with amusement the horror that passed over the lad's face as he looked to where he needed to put the saddle and realizing that it was several inches above his head.

Before the boy could attempt something and hurt himself, he stepped forward, easily pulling the saddle from the boy's hands, "Here lad, let me."

The relief that painted the boy's face sent another gut clenching stab through him, and made him curious enough to ask, "Boy, tell me, why are you working here? These beasts are not meant to be handled by one so young."

At his words, the boy's face grew fearful and he started to step away, so he changed tactics. "Well at least let me have the honor of knowing your name, so that next time I fancy a ride I can request your services."

And while the lad's face remained fearful, a sparkle glimmered in his eye. "My name's Michael."

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Sir Michael," he said as he gave the most proper of courtly bows to the boy, whose whole face seemed to light up with delight, and he again felt something twinge in his belly.

Michael giggled slightly, "And a pleasure to make yours, sir!" as he tried to imitate his bow, with marginal success. But when Michael straightened, a beaming smile on his lips, he could have cared less if the boy had fallen over in his attempt, so long as that smile stayed on his face.

"Is there anything else I can help you with, sir?" Michael asked, sounding much more sincere that when he had first asked the question.

"Just your company, if you'd be willing to give it."

Michael happily obliged and he prattled on about subjects he didn't understand, simply the expression of the ramblings of a child's mind, while he worked to tighten the girth and other saddle straps. Just as he was about to finish, the boy's voice died out.

"Yeah and then my sister, brother, and I…"

He looked over at MIchael's face to see a shadow pass over it that did not belong on a child's form.

"Michael?" he whispered softly.

The boy paused for a moment, not meeting his eyes, before he spoke in a broken tone, "My little brother, John, accidentally ran in front of one's of the Queen's knight's horses and caused the rider to be thrown. He said that it ruined his uniform, and that John had to pay to have a new one made. But we were poor, so the knights said that we could work off our brother's debt at the castle. I got assigned here, wendy, my sister, is working in the kitchen's I think, and they have John locked up somewhere. I haven't seen them in over a week. I-" His voice cracked and he fell silent.

And suddenly he wanted to help this boy. Not out of any deal or for repayment. He simply decided that he was going to do this for Michael. "There, there, lad, don't despair quite yet. I'll tell you what- I'll keep an eye out for this little lass and lad of yours, and if I find them, I'll let them know where you are and you are doing. And once I've spoken to them, I'll come back down here to relay any messages they might have for you. That sound alright?"

Michael blinked owlishly at him, seeming to be in shock at his offer. Taking advantage of the boy's silence, be put his foot in the stirup and heaved himself up onto Dilis. Michael had regained his faculties by then, and was looking at him with an expression far to sincere for his age.

"Thank you sir. I am in your debt, and I don't know how I will ever repay you, but I promise, if you ever need anything, I'm your man."

The demon whispered about debts and throwing his offer back in the boy's face, but the part of him that seemed to have been rekindled since meeting the princess glowed with pride and humbleness at the gratitude in the boy's voice.

"I thank you Michael, such an assurance is comforting to me. And you have my word, should I ever need something, I will come to you first."

Michael gave a stiff nod, and after regarding the boy a moment longer, he nudged Dilis around and left the stables, guiding the horse outside the walls and into the lands beyond.

Dilis looked over his shoulder, a questioning look in his eye, and he couldn't help but be honest with the beast.

"He reminded me of …." but he couldn't get the words out, and for once the horse didn't object to his lack of answer, simply giving him a knowing look before turning to look ahead, and slowly gaining speed until they were flying over the the undergrowth, outrunning the memories and thoughts that plagued him.

Finally, Dilis began to tire, and as his speed slowed to a walk, he noticed a lake not too far from where they were. Having heard the conversation the evil one had had with the young boy, he began to reevaluate his opinion of the man, though he still stunk of evil and darkness. But it seemed like instead of reveling in it, as he had on the beach, the man now seemed to be struggling. There was a tension about him that not even galloping had been able to ease. But he thought about it, and the scent of the sea that was barely perceptible under the reek of the evil in him, and he had an idea. Perhaps the man needed something more familiar to ease his mind. And so, without direction, he turned them towards the lake at a trot, wondering how the man would react.

As the horse turned without warning, he looked down in confusion, but a moment later, when the fresh smell of water hit his nose, he looked up to see a lake at the bottom of the hill they were now cresting. And just the sight of the sun rippling on the water began to soothe him in a way he hadn't realized he needed until that moment. And then suddenly the horse's actions became clear, and he leaned over to run his hand up the beast's neck.

"Thank you, my friend."

The horse responded with a quiet nicker, acknowledging his simple gratitude for the gift.

Once they reached the lakeside, he slid off Dilis's back, loosening his girth and removing the reins. "You go find yourself something delicious and relax. I'll be about for a bit."

The horse dipped his head, gently bumping his shoulder, before turning and ambling off to a nearby glen, where he promptly began feasting.

He smiled to himself before turning to wander as well, deciding to take his shoes off a few minutes later and feel the water. As he wandered further and further along the shore line, something began to become unsettled within him. An awareness was creeping over him, though he wasn't sure why.

However as he made his way around a large pile of rocks, he found his answer in the form of a boy about Michael's age or a little younger, sitting with his feet pulled up, staring out at the water.

Something about this boy drew him in. He couldn't look away and could not resist the pull toward him. He made plenty of noise to alert the boy of his presence and when he got close enough to see the boy gripping tightly at the sleeves of his tunic, the child turn to look at him.

As their eyes met, time itself seemed to stop, much as it had on the beach, and he felt another irreversible change take place. Then the moment passed as the boy spoke up, "what do you want?"

Feeling somewhat chagrined that a child had unsettled him, he absently reached up with his hook to scratch behind his ear, given that his shoes were in his hand. "I want nothing lad. I was merely exploring the lake here, while my horse rests for a bit."

"Oh," The boy was still watching him with eyes that seemed familiar to him, though he couldn't place why. "Are you here as a guest of her?"

He quickly understood from the boy's tone that he harbored no love for Regina and lumped in those who associated with her in the same category. And for some reason he didn't want the boy to think of him like that.

He glanced down as he answered, "Aye,I am, though mostly unwillingly." But as his eyes were lowered he noticed that the boy's knees were scraped and bloodied, and suddenly an almost violent urge to protect, to heal came over him. He recalled the same burning sensation rising up in him when the princess had stumbled on deck because of her saddle sores. "But that's not important. What happened to your legs?"

The boy glanced down, surprise flashing across his face at the question. "Oh, I was climbing some rocks and slipped, and skidded down to the ground. It's fine though, they don't hurt too badly."

Despite the boy's dismissive tone, he couldn't let it go, so he hesitantly took a step forward, asking, "I have some bit of skill healing. Would you please allow me?"

The boy's eyes widened, "Oh no really you don't have to, it's fine. Really."

"I want to. Please, I insist."

The boy looked hard at him for a moment, before nodding slowly, "Ok. If you want to."

Something almost like relief swept over him as he stepped forward, and as he got close enough to see the wounds in detail, an feeling unlike anything he had experienced since living in that accursed land so long ago flared up brightly in him. He suddenly understood what his brother meant when he said that he needed to protect him.

And at the thought, the ever present memory of his brother's final moment began to play out behind his eyes as his hand reached forward to gently lay on the cuts and scraps, feeling that same warmth flowing out of him as it had with the princess, while in his mind's eye, he saw his brother's prone form before him, taking his last breath.

Liam!

He shook away the echoes of that day as he felt the wounds begin to close under his palm. The boy twitched slightly and he looked up to his face in alarm, noting his eyes were screwed shut. But the boy seemed to sense his gaze and his eyes popped open, offering the answer to a question he hadn't got to ask.

"It itches." he twitched again.

"Ah, my apologies. It'll all be over in a moment though."

And minute later he pulled his hand back, stepping away from the boy to give him his space. He was going to just bid the lad farewell, but he hesitated, not wanting to leave his the boy seemed to solve the problem for him.

"What's your name?"

He looked over at the boy's clear eyes, and without hesitation, he told him the truth. 'My name is Captain Killian Jones. Though in another life I was called by a name you might know me by. Captain Hook."

The boy's eyes widened. "That's so cool! My mom used to read me stories about you. I always thought you were so amazing!"

He actually felt a blush creeping up his face at the boy's praise, but felt the need to dissolution the boy before he got any ideas. "Aye, that may have been, but I am not so amazing now. Quite the opposite in fact."

The darkness hissed and spit, sensing his inner turmoil. But the boy caught him off guard.

"You're Captain Hook so you're the Dark One now, right?"

He froze, staring hard at the boy as the darkness got louder in his ears. "Aye, that I am," he choked out. "But how do you know who I am?"

"I told you, my mom used to tell me stories about you, including how you managed to get all the way down into the castle while everyone was distracted."

His thoughts whirled. Only a few people knew where the previous Dark One had been kept, and even fewer knew who had slayed him. He needed to know how this boy knew.

"Who is your mother, boy?"

The lad sent him a sad smile, hopping to his feet before sketching a perfect bow. "Where are my manners, mom would be ashamed. Allow me to introduce myself. Henry, Prince of the realm, the last remaining member of the Misthaven Royal Family and heir to the throne."

His whole body froze as he stared at Henry, a single thought possessing his mind.

Emma had a son.