Title: According to Chemistry, Alcohol is a Solution

Summary: After a failed attempt at True Love's Kiss, Killian does a little day drinking with Belle and the two discover an interesting connection between the Dark One and Excalibur. In the past, Mim meets the Green Knight, and has a tense encounter with Merlin.

Note: Non-graphic mentions of sex, mild depictions of binge drinking. (Maeve tries to drink to avoid her feelings. Problem is, she has a lot of feelings)

With a flop and a squak it was sitting beside them, its hairy black beak cocked on one side. It was the witch's familiar.

"Open the doors," commanded Madam Mim, "and Greediguts shall have eyes for supper, round and blue."

The gore-crow hastened to obey, with every sign of satisfaction, and pulled back the heavy doors in its strong beak

-T.H. White, The Sword in the Stone

After David came back with nada and Regina's witchbane potion ending up doing diddly squat, Emma decided she needed a breather. 'Taking a quick breather' being code for: 'The Dark One is getting cranky and I don't want to end up force-choking anyone'.

So, yeah. Emma was now staring down Merlin's tree and barely suppressing the urge to set it on fire. It was really a toss up if that was the Dark One seeping through, or just the Savior's own frustration with the situation.

Luckily, she wasn't left alone with her thoughts for too long, as she was soon joined by a handsome, leather-clad, ruggedly handsome pirate.

"Swan," Hook greeted with a smile, his steps quickening as he got closer. It wasn't quite 'running into her arms' but he sure did move with purpose. Emma barely got out a greeting before his lips crashed onto hers. A little forceful, but she didn't much mind.

"Hey there," she smiled and giggled, going in for more as Killian leaned back. His eyes frantically searched her face, despair clear in his expression.

"Didn't bloody work."

Oh. oh. Just breezing past the whole True Love assumption going on there because yowza was she not ready to deal with that, Emma cleared her throat, "I, uh, guess you've been talking to Belle.

"Why didn't it work?"

"It didn't work…because then we'd just be right back where we started, with the untethered, swirling black vortex of evil."

"You don't know that."

"I'm not about to risk it!"

"Well, I guess it doesn't matter then." He pulled away from her, retreating almost as quickly as he'd approached.

Emma watched him leave, not finding the words in time before he was out of earshot. Sighing, she ran a hand over her face. Feeling the increasingly familiar weight of her magical backseat driver, Emma turned to see Rumplestiltskin making rude gestures at Merlin's tree. For once the apparition matched her mood perfectly.

Killian didn't go far. Any sailor knew the value of a tactical retreat, and the man needed time to lick his wounds. A shady corner of the castle gardens was as good a spot as any.

Mere days ago, before she reached into the Darkness, Emma Swan had told him she loved him. He knew her walls, knew how a lifetime of abandonment and pain had made her scared of opening herself up to love. As someone with his own share of scars, he'd liked them, in his own way. At least, he'd liked being the one to break them down. But now it seems a part of her has retreated back inside them.

True Love's Kiss was a gamble, Killian knew that. But after what she had said, he'd thought-he'd hoped-

With a frustrated growl, he sank his hook into the bark of a nearby tree. Again and again, chipping away at the bark until his arm burned with the exertion, and the feelings churning in his gut were at least somewhat subdued.

He'd tried it once before, in New York. After a year wallowing in heartache and loneliness, he'd stepped through the portal, and the moment she opened her door, he just knew. True Love's Kiss could break any curse, so the stories went. A swift kick to the groin had disabused him of the notion, and Killian had been certain that if Emma Swan was his True Love, he was not hers. And he was fine with that.

Well, maybe not completely fine, but there were often more pressing matters to occupy his thoughts. But then, after their journey into the past, what he'd once thought impossible had happened. Emma Swan wanted him. Had told him that she loved him.

That little nugget of hope had grown in his chest, and once more he'd thought that perhaps-

Killian took out his flask and started drinking. Rum and heartache were his oldest friends, after all.

Upon stumbling into Killian drinking in the garden, Belle couldn't even say she was surprised. One look at him (and the angry hook marks scratched into the nearby trees) told her everything she needed to know.

He didn't look up as she sat down next to him. "You tried to kiss her." It wasn't a question.

"Aye. She didn't even flinch." He took another drink, not looking her.

"I'm sorry."

He shrugged, and offered her the rum.

Belle wiped the lip with her sleeve and took a sip. The rum was stronger than she expected, and Belle couldn't understand how he could guzzle the stuff like water. As she considered taking another drink-the past few days were no picnic for her either-the librarian noticed something on the bottom. Tilting it up, she could make out runic sigils scored onto the surface.

"A gift from your lady love," he offered by way of explanation. "So long as they're intact, the flask will never run out."

Belle couldn't help but smile. Of course her girlfriend knew how to enchant something to provide infinite booze.

They drank in silence for a few minutes, passing the enchanted flask back and forth. After getting a little bit of a buzz going, his noticed the black leather tome Belle had placed next to her on the bench.

"Taken to some light reading?"

"Maeve's grimoire," she hiccuped, handing the flask back to him. "She writes about potions, spells, magical creatures...it's truly amazing the kind of things she's seen." A soft smile spread across her face, "She's traveled so much, the stories she could tell…"

Killian chuckled. At least someone was having better luck in the romance department, even if her paramour was currently absent. Deciding that he was done wallowing for the day, and somewhat curious to see what was inside, Killian reached for the black grimoire.

Belle handed it over without a word. Flipping through the pages, he noticed the witch's handwriting was curiously neat and her spelling impeccable. He filed that peculiar fact away as he continued his perusal, giving more attention to her various sketches until one caught his eye.

Excalibur. The sword was instantly recognizable, even if only because it was stuck in a stone. When he actually started to read the witch's words though, both his mood and his thoughts grew much more sober.

"You're right, Henry, the view up here is amazing."

"I'm glad you like it." The boy smiled, and looked back out at the great view of Camelot, both the village surrounding the castle, and the grand forests that lay just outside of it. Mother and son were enjoying this view from the top of Camelot castle.

After her little tiff with Killian, Henry had found her, and told her about the great views from the top of the castle ramparts. Craving the distraction, and meaning to speak to him anyway, Emma had agreed. Now there they were.

"You know, with the craziness of everything...I don't think I ever apologized for dragging you into all this, kid," Emma sighed.

Emma would usually prefer a root canal over talking about feelings, but her son was always the exception. Making sure that Henry could still talk to her even when bad things were happening made it clear that she loved him and would always have time for him-Emma was pretty sure she'd read that in a parenting book once.

The preteen shrugged. "You did what you had to do, I get that."

Her superpower told her that it wasn't a lie, while her motherly instincts informed that there was more that he wasn't saying. "You don't have to say that kid. Even with everything going on, I don't want you to think you have to put up a brave face for me."

"I appreciate it, but really, I'm fine." He insisted. "You're the Savior, and of anyone can handle the Darkness, it's you. Everyone's working on this, and we all know that heroes always win." He smiled, and it was easy to see the bright-eyed kid she'd met a few years ago. The one who believed in fairy tales, and was precocious enough to steal his mom's credit card and go all the way to Boston to find her.

Emma returned his smile with a subdued one of her own. It sounded corny and cheesy, but he was right. She had to hold onto hope that everything would be fine. (She brushed the memory of Hook's face as the kiss didn't work. Everything would be fine.)

"Besides, we ended up in Camelot, mom. Camelot." Henry continued, practically bursting at the seams. "We're staying in King Arthur's castle with knights and ladies with those pointed hats. It's so, so cool."

But soon, the clanking of armor let them know that they were not alone. They turned to see a young man with red hair and freckles nearby. He was dressed like a member of the Round Table.

"My apologies, I did not mean to interrupt your conversation. I merely came to resume my watch." He smiled, earnest.

"It's okay," Henry excused. "Wait-are you one of the knights of the Round Table?"

"That I am. Sir Gawain, at your service." He gave a small bow.

"As in Gawain and the Green Knight?" She asked, remembering the book found in Mim's pocket, and the lovely green woman she'd met on the road to Camelot.

The knight blinked. "There's a story about you, in the land that we're from," Henry rushed to explain. "I'm Henry, and this is my mom, Emma."

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance," he smiled. "While I cannot stay and talk now, perhaps I will see you tonight at diner?"

"Sure!" Henry piped up.

As the knight walked away, the young man turned back with a smile. "I told you mom, Camelot is the coolest."

"Killian, what's wrong?" She'd watched as he stopped on a particular passage in the grimoire, his expression growing more sober. In response, he handed the book back over to her, and pointed at what he'd found. In Maeve's penstrokes, clear as day, was the sword in the stone. The entry read as such:

The most powerful blade in all the realms, Excalibur was forged by Merlin himself to cut immortal ties and make himself mortal. Whether or not it actually does that is unknown, considering its currently stuck in a giant rock. Apparently, only the 'True King' of Camelot can get it out.

Unlike Dyrnwyn, Excalibur isn't considered to be just a story-it's existence is known. It's more the exact location that stumps people. (There was then a sketch of a very specific lakefront scribbled in the margins, but no other hint)

What they also don't know is the Dark One's connection to Excalibur, specifically their dagger. The dagger that controls the Dark One is the missing half of the legendary sword, not that you can tell with that half being shoved in a rock and all. Only a handful of people are privy to that information.

The pair looked at each other. This...this was new. This could change things.

"What do you think?" Belle asked.

He rose, and offered her his hand. "I think it's high time we got a better look at that sword."

It was close to noon when Maeve reluctantly started to regain consciousness. She'd spent most of last night (and yesterday night and the night before that) drinking herself into a stupor, dipping into the castle's once-great wine cellars. For her troubles, she felt like a hammer was keeping tempo on her skull, and the second worst case of dry mouth she'd ever had in her life.

(First place was reserved for the morning after the Agrabah Incident. Where, she'd had the absolutely brilliant idea to mix opium and absinthe. Like, a lot of opium and absinthe.

She woke up five days later in a brothel, dressed in clothes she didn't recognize, with three cracked ribs, a purse full of gold, her face on every wanted poster in the city, the worst case of dry mouth imaginable, and no clue what had happened between the two points.

And before you ask, she had apparently shown up at the brothel WITH the gold. Handed the matron a handful of coins for the softest bed and to not tell anyone she was there before passing out for twelve hours.

Maeve still had no idea what it was she actually did, but whatever it was had her banned from the city on pain of death for the next 50 years.)

But getting back to today's round of poor decision making, she'd passed out last night on the throne, the wooden chair doing no favors to her back. She vaguely recalled reaching for an old, dusty banner to act as a blanket, but now there was a soft, green cape draped over her. Confusion washed over the shapeshifter, until she caught the scent of fresh earth and wildflowers.

"Viv?" Suddenly much more awake, she sat up, eyes searching the main hall.

"Ah, you're awake," the Green Knight appeared from one of the side corridors, smiling and holding a tray containing a teapot and two cups. Maeve couldn't help but return the smile, and adjusted the cloak. (Those from our world would describe it as turning herself into a burrito)

"Here we go," Vivienne de Hautdesert handed her old friend a steaming cup of tea. The homely scent of honey and mint filled the witch's nostrils as she took the offered cup. Maeve took a sip, and sighed in pleasure. Yep, the famous de Hautdesert herbal tea was as good as she remembered.

"So…" she reluctantly asked. "What brings you by?"

Vivienne took a sip of her own tea. "Oberon was concerned about you." Green eyes glanced up, and Maeve followed her line of sight. A large black gore crow had perched itself on the top of the throne, and its black eyes gazing down at her.

"Hey, pretty bird." She greeted, tone fond. "When did you get in?"

"Last night. I had plenty of time to spread my wings after you stuffed me into your purse," the crow huffed, (although anyone who didn't have magic, it just sounded like 'CAW CAW CAW'). "You're just lucky I didn't nibble at your precious herbs."

"I keep foxglove and deadly nightshade in there. You'd just poison yourself, and then I'd have stuff you and put you next to Grizzle." Though her tone was dismissive, the bird knew it to be a loving kind of teasing.

"Do you know how creepy I find the thought of you keeping my father's taxidermied corpse? Very creepy, and my favorite snack is eyeballs."

"If I may interrupt this lovely conversation," Archimedes spoke up, the owl having flown down at some point. "Perhaps we could move on to a bit more pressing matters. Such as the appearance of the outsiders in Camelot?"

"Oh yes," Vivienne poured herself another cup. "I met your 'friend' Emma, the Dark One. You're keeping strange company these days, Maeve."

"To be fair, it's a recent development." Another sip.

"Hence why you didn't tell her about the whole Merlin-tree situation?" To that, the witch just smiled. The omission hadn't been out of any malice. It was well known where Merlin was and the condition he was in, Arthur likely lead them straight to it. Besides, the greatest Sorcerer in all the realms stuck in a tree? That is one of the most hilarious things she'd ever heard of, and just wished she'd been able to see their faces when they found out.

"Yes, yes, I'm sure you find my master's situation to be quite the joke," the owl huffed. "But the time of his release is drawing near. It is prophesied that the Savior will be the one to free him."

"Did he mention the part about her being the Dark One?" Viv asked. "Because that's an interesting twist."

"Well, no, but-"

"Maybe it's a case of coming full circle," Maeve theorized. "The first Dark One trapped him, this one'll let him out."

"If she doesn't succumb to the Darkness first." The Knight pondered. "In any case, the Once and Future King is supposed to destroy the Dark One after reuniting Excalibur, so either way it's handled. But, that is not what I came here to talk to you about." She set down her tea cup, and considered the witch. "I want you to come home with me."

Maeve nearly choked on her tea. "I beg your pardon?"

"I want you to leave this gloomy castle full of bad memories, and come with me to the Green Chapel. You don't want to go back to Camelot, and I respect that. But you don't have to torture yourself by staying here."

"I'm...fine, where I am. Really." Viv would be more inclined to believe her if Maeve wasn't reeking of wine and avoiding all eye contact. "Besides, I highly doubt your wife would appreciate that."

"Elaine likes you," Vivienne defended, "and I'm sure would love for you to visit. It's been ages since anyone stopped by."

The witch considered. "...will you make more tea?"

The Green Knight's face broke out into a wide smile. "I'll make you all the tea you want, I promise."

Killian and Belle had made their way to the Round Table. They were surprised to find the room unlocked and unguarded, though the fact that Excalibur was currently lodged in its stone probably accounted for the lack of security.

"From what I can see, the markings match the design of the Dark One's dagger." Belle mussed, inspecting the blade closer. "That would support the idea of being one blade.

"Well, we may as well get a better look—" Killian stepped up onto the table, and reached for the handle.

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you." A voice interrupted. His hand stilled and the pair turned to see King Arthur himself, looking surprisingly amiable. "The last man who tried was burnt to a crisp."

"Good to know," the pirate drew away from the table, stepping down and considering the monarch carefull.

"Apologies, your majesty," Belle spoke up. "We knew your blade had a connection to Merlin, and we hoped there would be some sort of hidden message from him inscribed on it." Sort of a lie, but not entirely the truth.

Arthur nodded. "You could have just asked."

"We were under the assumption you were busy. Ruling a kingdom and all." Killian suggested.

"If I were, then Lady Belle would have had the misfortune of seeing you burnt to ash before her very eyes." The two exchanged a look. "Besides, I could have saved you the trouble. I can't tell you how long I spent pouring over the symbols on that blade during the first few years of my reign. So trust me when I assure you there's nothing there. When Merlin speaks, its either directly to his chosen, or through what he's left behind. I know him well enough to say that there's nothing encoded on that sword."

"That may be so…" Killian mused, time careful, "but I couldn't help but notice the striking resemblence between your sword and the Dark One's dagger."

Arthur paused. "How do you know about the dagger?"

"I've spent a lifetime trying to end the Dark One's existence. I know much about the dagger, but what I don't know about is your blade. Care to enlighten us?" He invited, still a touch hostile.

Arthur kept his eyes on the pirate. "Yes. There's a reason they resemble each other they were forged as the same weapon and then broken in two. I've spent years trying to reunite them." He sighed. "Now, you must understand, this is Camelot's greatest secret. I am placing trust in your discretion, if my people knew my sword had a connection to such as the Dark One...I worry they would come to fear it."

"I'm sure you could simply explain-"

"With all do respect, you are guests in our land. I lived in Camelot all my life, and know its people like my own family. So trust my judgement."

Pirate and librarian exchanged a look. "We'll have to share this finding with the Savior, of course. If she is to free Merlin, then this may be connected to how."

"Yes, of course. But otherwise?" he prodded.

"If anyone else discovers this, it won't be from us, Your Highness." Killian assured.

King Arthur nodded, and as he left, the pirate couldn't help but feel that there was more to this that he wasn't telling. (He's totally right about that. Arthur's an entitled dick)

(And as for the whole Killian pulling the sword from the stone thing, I promise we're getting there.)

Camelot, 20 Years Before the Dark Curse...

(And, like, right after where we left off last chapter with the Arthur flashback)

Madam Mim let out one last cackle as she turned back into the woods. Watching the self-proclaimed 'king' run for his life had been one of the funniest things she'd ever seen. A little mean spirited, perhaps, but the boy deserved it. She'd known his father, and King Uther was an asshole, to say the least.

"Was that really necessary?" A voice spoke out from among the trees.

"Who said that?" She demanded, scanning the area and finding nothing. Doesn't mean nothing was there, though.

"I mean, he did almost shoot you, but it was clearly an accident."

Even with the sensitive ears of a bat, Mim wasn't any closer to finding the source of the voice. "I don't have to justify myself to anyone, especially not random voices in the middle of the woods."

There was a considerate hum, and suddenly one of the trees shifted. Standing before her, armed and armored all in green, was a woman. A very tall, very attractive woman who was holding a battleaxe like she knew how to use it. The part of Mim's brain that wasn't flashing the HOT WOMAN ALERT was suspicious at the figure's sudden appearance.

"Oh. Vivienne de Hautdesert, at your service." The woman gave a small bow. "I am the Green Knight, defender of the wilds of Gramarye."

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance," Mim leered, debating the merits of having such a woman pressed on top of her or writing under her. The shapeshifter wasn't picky and would hopefully have a chance to try both before too long. Unfortunately, the Green Knight wasn't interested in a good shag (at the moment, that would come later), and instead just started trying to talk to Mim.

The main topic seemed to revolve around why the shapeshifter felt the need to scare a teenager to the point of almost wetting himself, but would make sidebars into much more unpleasant, psychological tangents.

"You want to know what I think?"

Mim kept walking forward at a steady pace. "No, as that would imply that I care what you have to say."

"I think something very bad happened to you, and you take your pain out on people instead of dealing with it."

That was what caused her to finally stop. She turned back, snarling and baring her fangs. "If that's the case, then perhaps you should tread lightly."

The Green Knight didn't even have the courtesy to look scared or concerned. "No. You only kill when provoked."

"And you're being rather provocative."

"If you were going to kill me, you would've done it already."

Glowering, but unable to deny it, the shapeshifter just started walking away, resolute on staying quiet so as to not give any more fuel. Spoiler alert: it didn't work out. The Green Knight kept following her, trying to get her to open up, until the point where Madam Mim set some trees on fire and flew off to the other side of Gramarye just to try and get a bit of peace.

She'd managed to find a lovely little tavern in Cornwall and get a good buzz going when a young, dark skinned man started walking towards her table. Mim bit out a curse and downed a shot of whiskey because no way in hell was she dealing with this shit sober.

Because if she was seeing Merlin, that meant she had good cause to be worried. Not because he was going to hurt her or anything. But because if the goddamn Sorcerer deigns to astrally project just to get a word in, there was probably some prophecy bullshit about to unfold and he comes bearing responsibility.

"Mim," he greeted, sitting down at the table. "You're looking well."

"Merlin," she greeted by glowering. "Funny seeing you here. So, here to chew me out about your little golden boy?"

He leveled her with a glare. "I'm disappointed in your little stunt. You were supposed to help Arthur reach his destiny."

"I helped. Now he won't underestimate witches, and learn that if he's going to go around calling himself king, he'd better have something to back it up." She smirked, enjoying the annoyed look on his face. It was fun seeing the 'unflappable' Merlin be so...flappable.

"Is that why you sicced the Green Knight on me?" He put the poker face back on and made a noncommittal shrug, to which she rolled her eyes. "You're not half as subtle as you think, Merlin."

"Different people require different approaches. I figured she had the best chance of getting through to you."

"Meaning, either you just think I need help meeting women-which I really don't-or she's come to drag me back to you-know-where kicking and screaming."

"No," he protested. "I'm hoping that she'll be able to convince you. Because despite all of this," he gestured towards her, "you're no fool, Maeve. You know that you can't run away from your responsibilities forever."

She responded with a shrug and another sip. Disappointed to find it already empty, she motioned for the barmaid's attention.

"Having a goal, a purpose, could change you." Merlin continued. "You could be a great hero, you just need to take the initiative and return to Annuvin."

"Nope." Mim dismissed. "In fact, I'm just going to aggressively ignore that part of my life until it goes away. Another round," she requested. "Actually, just bring me the whole bottle." A gold coin, and the purple witch had a glass and a half full bottle of cheap whiskey all to herself.

Merlin wrinkled his nose. "That can't be healthy."

"And yet I don't care." She smiled, and downed another shot.

"You can't hold onto that hatred and anger forever. Eventually, you're going to have to deal with it." He pressed.

"Oh, so now you care about me?" She retorted, face contorting into a snarl. "Because, Sorcerer, the best time for this little pep would have been, oh, about a century ago. So go back to your little shrubbery, and save the speeches for someone who might give a damn."

He raised an eyebrow, and stood. "I meant what I said, Maeve. Despite everything you've done, you're better than this. Better than drinking yourself into a stupor every night, and terrifying children because they happen to poke at old wounds."

She snarled. "Bold words, coming from someone both stationary and flammable." But by the time she looked up again, he was gone. The witch just took another drink.

How the rest of the world sees Merlin: ancient & powerful wizard, must be treated with respect, when he shows up you know shit's gonna go down

How Mim sees Merlin: an annoying buzzkill

In the book, Mim has a crow familiar named Grizzle Greediguts, loved the idea but hated the name, so this is Grizzle's son, Oberon Greediguts. I think it's a fun dynamic.

Anyhow, if you have any questions/thoughts/theories, comment below and let me know! I love hearing from you lovely people!