A/N: This is just a my take on the perfect Beauty and the Beast, starring our beautiful Emma, and super super hott Killian Jones. Inspired by me listening to "Monster" by Imagine Dragons nonstop. (Go listen to it) AU
This chapter consists of David meeting the Monster, ok, my munchkins? I know I've been forcing ya'll to just read boring stuff, but I swear on chocolate covered pretzels it will get better: just trying to set the characters and mood. Don't hate me, cuz you know I love ya'll.
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters. I can't even imagine what I would do with Hook if I did ;)
I never said that I want this;
This burden came to me.
And it made it's home inside.
~Imagine Dragons: Monster
~Chapter 2~
"How long will you be gone, Father?"
David looks down at his worried daughter with a smile on his face. "Come now, daughter, I'm not that old."
Emma smiles back, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes. Emma hates staying alone, and he knows it. But debts must be paid, and if his daughter was not willing to remove them with marriage, he would remove them with labor and pain, but less pain than seeing Emma unhappy.
Even so, he did not want to go.
"Alright," Emma says reluctantly after a quick hug. "Write me?"
He smiles softly and presses a kiss to her forehead. "Everyday."
She smiles and he mounts his steed, and rides off into the daybreak, never once looking back at his daughter, who watches him until he is no longer within sight, then stares at where she last saw him.
She crumples down onto the grass and cries. She was alone again.
….
David looks around uneasily. He had been so focused on reading the map in his hand, he had not noticed when he took a wrong turn. And then another. And another. And yet another.
His horse began to whinny, then reared upon his hind legs, all but throwing the startled shepherd of his back. The horse lurched forward, at a pace no shepherd had traveled before. An earth shattering howl erupted from behind him. Wolves? There were no wolves in these parts. Where did they come -
Suddenly, horse and shepherd collide with the pack head on. "WHA-"
The wolves-yes he could see now they were wolves- had been behind him only a moment ago. He quickly jerks his wild-eyed horse to the left, and as he glances behind, he sees the wolves, dark as night, ….erupt? Yes, they erupt into dark fragments of glass, only to reform in front of the freshly terrified David.
Dark Magic.
With a loud and shaky, "Hyah!" to his valiant steed, he crashes through the forest, knowing there's no escape, but fighting anyway.
Suddenly, collision.
An invisible barrier had stopped David from moving on. The horse, officially done with this, rears, dropping David onto the cold, hard ground.
The unfaithful runs out of sight, and therefore, out of mind.
David looks to the general area of the barrier, just as he feels a whirlwind of glass settling down beside him. A shard grazes his skin, and he cries out in pain. No longer caring what became of him, he stumbles back as he tries to stand.
He stumbles into the barrier.
Which is no longer there.
David looks up. Where there had, just moments ago, been a dark expanse of woodland, now loomed an equally dark expanse of castle. Gargoyles lined the perimeter, grimacing and grinning at David, and fountains overrun with shrubs occasionally spouted a dark, sludgy liquid.
It's dark and foreboding, but David doesn't care. He's no Prince Charming, so he will take whatever castle he can over glass wolves with bloodlust.
He stumbles on towards the grand palace doors, and he begins to hope. He could be welcomed in, for as he well knew, looks could be decieving. Perhaps the owner of this grand place was far too old to care for the grounds, or perhaps no one lives there at all.
Officially hopeful, David limps to the door and pounds.
No one answers.
He pounds again, just for good measure, before trying the door.
Unlocked.
He presses his weight against the creaky entrance and cautiously walks in.
There is no light, no family portraits, no mirrors, no anything. He shrugs, surely no one would live in these circumstances. Still, he can't shake the feeling of being watched. Being sized up. Like prey right before the predator devours him whole.
He shivers.
Mustering all the courage he has left -which isn't a lot- he breathes in and out, and walks down the never ending hall, his hand pressed against the wall for guidance.
Just as he begins to believe the hallway is enchanted to never end, his hand meets nothing but air, and he stumbles into a new opening.
His hand gropes the wall, and just as he is about to give up and go home -surely the wolves have left?- a slight gust of wind pushes him into something that feels like a cupboard. He opens the cupboard door cautiously and gropes around it, his fingers settling on what feels like a candlestick. He quickly finds a candle and upon further searching, finds some matches.
He strikes a match and lights the candle. The light is dim, but helps immensely. He sees a grand clock, noting the hour to be eleven. Seeing more candles, he hurries to light them all, and is astounded at the view that greets him.
It is indeed a palace fit for a prince.
A grand fireplace stands proudly in the north of the room, with a large chair a few feet from it, almost begging David to be it's occupant and rest his weary feet.
Frames and an old mirror also adorn the wall, although the mirror appears to be shattered, and the pictures inside the frame torn. But one would expect as much, seeing as there was dust covering every inch of grandeur.
But beggars may not be choosers, and what is a little dust to a man who has just been chased down by vicious wolf figurines?
A little dust is nothing.
Carefully lighting a match and tossing in some old wooden frames, David leans back onto the chair, sighing as his feet scream with relief.
Sitting in such a grand setting, has David almost believing he could be a prince. He straightens a bit in his chair, and smirks a bit. Yes, he quite likes the feeling of being in charge, but having no responsibilities. He likes it very much indeed.
Emma would love it.
His smirk disappears as he remembers his daughter, the girl who really was a princess to him, the girl who was waiting for him back home. His dear baby Emma. Sighing, and looking wistfully around the room, he stands and readies for a quick departure.
He is no prince, and should not waste his time pretending to be one while his only reminder of his Mary Margaret lies alone at the house. The debts could wait.
He grabs a candle, and upon reaching the dark doors, catches a glimmer in the corner of his eye.
"What is that?" He inches closer to the gleaming thing, which turns out to be two, three, four thousand gleaming things.
Little gold pieces.
Little cut jewels.
His eyes light up. This could suffice to pay all the debts, feed him and Emma for years to come, buy a new place.
Emma could marry for love, not for payment.
Quickly glancing around, although he knows no one to be there, he begins to plop the currency into every available spot on his clothes.
It's not until he's almost done that he feels it. The wind. Not harsh like the wolves, but urgent, angry, afraid. The wind grows stronger and stronger, like a mysterious force telling him to leave now, there's no more time.
He sets his mouth in a grim line and stands, once again ready for departure. He strides to the door, and walks out.
No wolves.
He sighs and begins at a quick pace to the large gates, stopping only to inspect some dead vegetation. However, upon further inspection, he sees a little flower growing through the impossible. He smiles. Much like his Emma.
Picking the fragile rose bud, he begins once again to the gates, but an earth-shattering roar causes his to stumble and collapse to the ground.
He grips the flower tighter, and glances around furtively.
"Who-" he clears his throat."Who goes there?"
A dark chuckle sounds from the shadow of a grinning gargoyle. "You dare to ask me, when you are the trespasser on my castle?"
"I-I'm sorry, I was unaware-"
"Unaware?"
"Yes, and quite, and quite frightened!"
The voice laughs dryly. "Frightened of what, old man? The dark?" The shadow shifts, but still does not reveal himself.
Suddenly, very close to his ear, "I AM the dark you fool."
David pales, but swallows: Emma grew up without a mother, she would not do the same with her father.
"Please, sir," he implores, throat dry. "Please. I must get back home-"
"This could be your home." The voice is so close David shudders. "You could be a prince alongside me, we could play games of conquest, of revenge. You must stay."
David almost didn't hear the words, "You must suffer as I."
But he did. If only barely.
If there was anything David had learned on his journey through life, it was that people driven by revenge, under the sick delusion that it was justice, were dangerous, deadly even. They had lost all hope.
David tries again, growing all the more desperate. "Please! I must return to my daughter, she-"
The shadow, the MONSTER, if you will, suddenly whispered, "Daughter?"
"Yes!" David cries, hoping to have found some human left in the monster. "My daughter, she needs me, she-"
"She needs to be taken care of?"The voice was growing softer, but the impact was harder.
"Y-yes. She needs to be taken care of. She needs it a lot."
The shadow straightens some, but remains a tad hunched. Like he can't help it. "She needs taking care of. I shall take care of her," he says, like it has been decided three hundred years ago.
"Excuse me?!" David says, fear gone, indignance in. "My daughter is not a trophy nor is she an item for me to hand to you to care for…" he trails off, thinking of Baelfire, and how he had been on the other side just a few moments ago. "Oh, forgive me Mary Margaret, you married the town fool," he breathes.
The monster waits a moment before saying dryly, "I get the feeling that you actually DO view your daughter as a trophy, and a trinket."
The monster snaps his fingers. A wind starts up again, loudly, angrily, hungrily, rushing towards David with the strength of a great typhoon.
David looks at the monster, the broken man who steps out of the shadows just enough to grin sinisterly before saying, "I'm really only doing her a favor."
The wind envelops David, sharp pricks slicing his arms, his neck, his face, over and over again, like an army of angry knives. He cries out, yells for Emma to run, to hide, but as the wind suddenly stops and drops him in an empty, dark, and ransacked house, he knows.
Too little. Too late.
A/N: Sorry this one came out so late! I was having technological difficulties, aha.
SHOUTOUT!'s to paulaboomcamp, grapejuice057, ladyluck1155, and ouatcs (nice username ;) )
Anyhoo, you guys are the sweetest! Sweeter than the chocolate covered strawberries I love! Sweeter than Killian from the show before he lost Liam. (which was really sweet; and attractive.)
Keep dropping some reviews my way! Ask questions, leave prompts and suggestions and ideas, and I'll do my best to answer them!
Hugs and Kisses and Chocolate Covered Strawberries,
~Mrs Killian Jones: Pureblood.