A/N: This is my first OUAT story. I hope you enjoy, and I'd love to read any reviews you may have for me!

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Once Upon a Time or its characters.

Killian Jones took another swig, his head beginning to feel heavy from the rum. He'd swore to himself long ago that he wouldn't be back. He'd get his revenge some other way, far away from the treacherous shores of the Enchanted Forest. It's where he'd met Milah, fallen in love, and then watched her die. Though he'd confess to anyone who would listen that he blamed the Crocodile for her death, it wasn't the Dark One that he faulted entirely.

Killian blamed himself most of all.

He'd stolen another man's wife, and while that man had been a coward and he'd shoved Mila's infidelity right in the Crocodile's face, it didn't change the fact that she had left her own child for him; for the freedom, love, and adventure that he'd promised.

Killian watched the love of his existence get her heart ripped from her chest and crushed, while his own hand was sliced from the wrist.

And no matter how much time had passed, the pain and need for revenge remained overwhelming.

He swore to never love again.

Killian looked over the brim of his cards at the man sitting across from him. The bloke had sweat pooling on his upper lip as he darted his eyes back and forth. He most definitely did not have a poker face. Killian smirked, certain that the man was about to lose once again. He already owed more than he had.

"It's now or never, mate. Show your hand?"

As suspected, he had nothing. The older man's shoulders slumped over as he closed his eyes in utter defeat.

"Again," the man growled, pounding his fist against the table.

"Afraid not," Killian said, lifting the pocket watch, coins, and a few other trinkets from the middle of the table and placing them in his leather jacket. "I've already given you more than enough attempts to win back some of what you've lost. You have nothing left that I want, and I won't be around long enough for you to pay the debt you do owe me."

"I have more I can put up. A home…furnishings…paintings…"

"Now what would I do with a home in some place I have no intention of staying? As for the rest of your things, I guarantee they have little to no value, so once again, the answer is no. I bid you farewell, old man," Killian said, clutching his tankard of rum in his only hand before walking away."

"Wait! I – I may have something else you'd be interested in."

Killian halted his steps, raising one eyebrow in amusement before turning on his heels. Out of curiosity, he'd hear the fellow out, but very much doubted he had anything to offer that would pique his interest.

"And what makes you think that?"

"Because you're a pirate, are you not?"

Killian chuckled. "So, what you're saying is that this mystery item of yours would only appeal to the likes of me?"

"Yes. That's what you lot like best isn't it? Coin, rum, and women."

Killian shrugged. The man wasn't wrong. "Go on."

"I have a daughter. If I lose the next hand, she's yours."

Any smirk he had on his face quickly vanished. Was this creature serious? He'd bet his own flesh and blood on a game of cards?

And most thought that pirates were the lowest of humans.

"Well, isn't that nice," Killian said in a snarky tone. "And here I thought you were a gentleman. My mistake."

"Her mother went and died two years ago. Went and got herself killed, she did, without ever giving me a son. I never asked for the girl in the first place. Sure, she cooks alright and keeps house well enough, but I'd be lying if I said I wouldn't enjoy a bit of freedom...IF I lose."

Killian slowly made his way back towards his unworthy opponent, his boots softly clicking against the wooden floor. "And what makes you think I want your daughter? She probably looks like a beast. Is that it? Can't finding anyone to marry her so you're purposely trying to pin her off on me?"

"'Course that ain't it. She's been too busy taking over her mother's chores that she has no time for courting. She's decent looking enough."

Killian leaned forward, placing his hook that now served as his left hand down on the table, looking the man in his cold eyes. His voice was a threatening whisper. "I may have a dark heart, mate, but even I draw the line at taking someone's unsuspecting daughter to be my whore."

His opponent swallowed hard as beads of sweat continued to fall. "If you want to have a look at her before playing another hand, then that's what you'll do. But I'm telling ya, she'd be worth the bet, and you can keep her any way you'd like if I lose, whether that be warming your bed or simply cooking and cleaning for you and your crew."

Killian breathed deep in agitation and took a long swallow of rum, contemplating the man's words. He hadn't had a woman on board the Jolly Roger since Milah died, not even one of his many conquests from every port he visited. It felt like only yesterday, yet a lifetime ago, all at the same time.

Replacing his scowl with a devil-may-care grin that he'd learned to master over the years, he said, "I'll take a look at the girl tomorrow. How do I get to your home?"

"You'll take a look now and play me for her, as well as the things I've lost. I don't trust you won't sail away afore morning."

"Unlike you, swine, I'm not a lying swindler. If I say I'll be there – I'll be there."

The man looked angrier than he had when he realized he'd lost all of his 'valuables' only moments ago, but quickly accepted defeat for the first time that night. "Across the fairy bridge, six cottages down to the left. There's a swing out front. You can't miss it."

"Until tomorrow then," Killian said with a mocking bow. "By the way, I never caught your name."

"Huxley," the man grumbled. "Isaac Huxley."

The next morning, Killian took the route that Huxley had given him. Surprisingly, the directions had been accurate considering how vague they originally seemed. His head hurt something fierce from how much he drank the previous evening. He'd already been a bit tipsy beforehand, and after engaging with that creature he had the misfortune of meeting, he'd drank much more. He contemplated leaving the Enchanted Forest and saying goodbye to this nonsense all together. However, he was a gentleman like he'd told the old man and he'd made a bargain.

He had promised to play him one more hand.

But he wasn't going to play Huxley unless he had something worth acquiring. Killian would be lying if he didn't say he had never played for a woman before. But the women he played for were just as invested in his winning as he was. They wanted him just as much in return, and it was only for one night, not utter possession from that moment on.

Besides, Killian had come back to the Enchanted Forest for one reason, and one reason only. He wasn't quite ready to leave without trying to find the Crocodile one last time. He knew that he was here, but the evil ugly thing refused to show himself.

He took in the site before him, a run-down cottage with broken shutters and weeds growing too tall. Compared to the nearby residences, it looked out of place and completely neglected. But there was the swing, swaying gently back and forth in the late morning breeze, hanging from a giant tree that seemed to overpower the yard.

Killian's boots clicked against the cobblestone walkway as he reluctantly moved towards the front door. He stepped onto the porch and hesitated a moment before lifting his hand and rapping three times.

He waited, but no answer came. Chances were, Huxley was sleeping off a hangover this morning, something Killian wished he was doing, himself.

He knocked once again by giving three more raps against the door, this time louder.

"Is there something I can help you with?" A girl asked, startling Killian. He quickly turned towards the voice. His mouth went instantly dry.

It was pretty brunette, carrying a pale of water, her striking blue eyes giving him a curious stare.

It didn't take long to notice the dark bruise that rested violently beneath one of those bright eyes. And she was young. If this was Huxley's daughter, there was going to be a serious problem.

Huxley himself was not a dying old man, but he was no spring chicken, either. Killian wasn't sure what he was expecting. A spinster perhaps. Maybe a woman of twenty at the very least. But no. This was little more than a child. His stomach began to recoil, and he had the sudden urge to wretch. He wanted to kill Huxley. He wanted to kill him in a bad and torturous sort of way.

He tore his gaze from her. He wanted to run. Huxley didn't deserve for him to keep his word. He should turn around and never look back. But despite the steady gaze that she gave him, it was hard to not notice how mistreated she was. How could he possibly run away now?

"Sir? Is there something I can help you with?" she asked once again. Killian realized he hadn't spoken a word to her yet.

Somehow, he found his voice. "Are you…Isaac Huxley's daughter?"

She shifted uncomfortably at the question before sitting the full pale of water down and crossing her arms against her slender midsection like she may be cold. The weather was slightly crisp, but not enough to freeze a person.

"Yes," she answered, offering no more. Killian winced. He'd hoped he'd wondered upon the wrong residence perhaps.

"Is he around by chance, love? I have business to discuss with him."

"I'm afraid he's still asleep. Maybe you can come back this evening. He usually awakens before supper time."

"Supper?" Killian inquired, raising his eyebrows in surprise. "He does that often does he?"

She chose to not answer that question, just shrugged her shoulders and bent down to retrieve the pale of water before walking towards the door. "If you'll excuse me. I need to see to my chores."

"Wait!" he said, unsure of why he was stopping her in the first place. "Before you go, I'd like to know the name of the lovely lass I've had the fortune of meeting on such a fine morning."

Her lips parted, pink and a little shocked. It was evident that she wasn't used to getting compliments of any kind, no matter how small. It was a shame, and almost unbelievable. She was absolutely breathtaking.

But in that moment, the door burst open and there Huxley stood, a deep scowl on his face with the same clothes he'd had on the night before. The stench coming from his body was nauseating and the complete opposite from the lilacs and spring air that clung to his pretty daughter.

"What in the hell do you think you're doing? Just going to run off with all my money and steal the girl without giving me a fair chance to win anything back?!"

"Papa…"

"What did I tell you about talking to strangers, girl! Get inside."

Huxley stepping outside and grabbed his daughter by her upper arm, shoving her through the door and slamming it behind her. Killian was seeing red; on the verge of placing his sword through the vile man's chest.

"What has she done to warrant such brutality?"

"Don't you question me, pirate. I told you I'd play you for her. I said you can have a look, but from what I saw, you were about to do more than that."

"What in God's name is wrong with you, old man? She's a child!"

"She's aint no child. No child looks like that."

"She can't be more than fifteen."

"Sixteen," Huxley corrected, like that made all the difference. "Her ma was two years younger than she is now when we wed."

"And why doesn't that surprise me considering what kind of man you are?"

"You listen here, boy," he said, wagging his finger in Killian's direction. The man really did have a death wish. "I didn't invite you over here so you can insult me. Now you got an up close and personal look at the girl, and from the way you were staring at her, I'd say you like what you saw. Now do you want her or not?"

"You really want to risk it? You lost every hand to me last night. You honestly think you have even the slightest chance of beating me now?"

"Do you want to play...or not?!"

"You, my friend, are a stupid fool. Do you have any idea what kind of prize you have in her? If you'd stop beating her for half a second and let the girl find a husband, I'm sure she'd be able to precure a rich one; maybe one that can even erase your obscene gambling debts."

"I told you to stop insulting me! And no wealthy man will want her. She has no dowry, not that I'd put one up for her, even if I could afford it."

"With her beauty, mate, she may not even need a dowry."

"I knew you'd play me for her. Look at you. Already a fool over the worthless girl."

Killian breathed heavy. He'd killed men for far less. He'd even killed his own father. It would be so easy to slice this man to pieces.

"I'll play you for her," he said through clenched teeth. "One game and no more. You don't try to find her after this is all over - If you ever hear of my being in town again, maybe you turn around and disappear. Otherwise, you might just find yourself on the receiving end of my sword. Is that understood?"

For the first time since encountering Huxley moments ago, his hard face faltered and was replaced by a momentary twinge of fear. "I want the chance to win back what I lost to you," he said, his voice shaking.

"I have more than enough. I'll give you back your damned coin and worthless trinkets if I lose," Killian stated, holding the man's gaze with a steely look of his own. "But I won't."