Note: As always, all the credits to my amazing beta, Miriam Lange, for checking my chapter out. She's an angel! Then…
First of all, I need to say something about this chapter: I wrote it on Valentine's day and, even if I couldn't publish it first, I think it got affected by the romanticism a bit. In the limits of the story, of course.
Second of all, I wanted to thank you the people who left a review to my chapter 'cause they make me very happy and grateful. So, thank you heartily, peeps!
Third of all, as always, I leave you the link of the song that inspired me. It's 'In my veins' by Andrew Belle.
Leave me a review, if you want to. I would be pleased. :]
Chapter IV
Scared and melancholic
watch?v=GSYnOeO5rdk
Contradiction. It was all he could have said about his life, about his condition, if anyone would have asked him, if, however unlikely, anyone would have gone to the castle that all the inhabitants of the Enchanted Forest have been avoiding for months. Anyone but him. Because, even if it was hard to admit it, he knew he was over presumptuous and over arrogant the day when he decided out of the blue to leave in order to save Emma, not even thinking about the consequences. As always, driven by the arrogance and the poise he had always been proud of, he didn't listen to his own parents, not even to Emma's parents when they begged him not to make such a mistake and increase the number of Maleficent's victims. And he was paying a high price for his self-pride.
But that poise that had always guided him his whole life seemed to have left Killian, replaced by the uncertainty that was poisoning his existence. He was a prisoner, but no chains were stopping his movement, nor was the door of his room locked to prevent his escape. He sacrificed his own life for the woman he was in love with, but he begged her to find a new love, to move on without him; the woman he could have been with at the proper time if he wasn't too stubborn to accept his parents' wish. A wish that, at some point, started to reflect his own desire. He saw and touched Emma until they got separated, but he kept trying to find something of her in the only woman he was supposed to hate. He should hate Maleficent and he partially did, but he wasn't sure he would have ever been able to lay a finger on her, or even not to stop anyone who would try to hurt her. He wasn't sure about that since the night they danced together.
But what was the point? What was the explanation behind all the confusion, all the contradiction he was living in? He needed a reason, a tiny solution to unravel the knots that were torturing his mind and his heart. Because Killian Jones was not a man who could live like that, letting fate take away the choices he was supposed to make, a fate he didn't believe in.
Lying on the bed in the room he finally got used to, he sighed and closed his eyes for a long moment, trying to control the flow of his thoughts with which he has being torturing himself over and over. Even though he wanted to stop that torment, his mind kept proposing to him the conceptions of that evening again and again and again and, in the biggest contradiction his being has been poisoned with since he reached that castle for the first time, he gave up and recollected the memories of their dance more than once, until his soul was overwhelmed by them and solitude became an excuse to go back to that hall.
His hands clearly remembered the touch of Maleficent's skin against his, the way her fingers lay unarmed in his for a very long time and the way her fingers started to absorb Killian's warmth until they heated up. His eyes painfully remembered the look on her face, first bewildered and then uncertain, and he was worried and relieved at the same time by the memory of the dread he read in her gaze. He couldn't believe that a creature like her, so cruel, could have been scared of him. He couldn't believe that a powerful witch, whose magic brought desolation and grief upon an entire population, could have been so confused, so lost, when he closed his arms around her.
When he went to her that night, he didn't think about anything and he was led by the instinct he had always been relying on. But that instinct of his played a trick on Killian, because dancing with her affected not only his mind, but also his emotions. When Maleficent relaxed into his arms and they started dancing through the hall in the pace of music that was playing only in their minds, Killian understood that the reasons behind his gesture were complex and not all of them could be explained by the fact that Maleficent could have been Emma or, at least, by the fact that she reminded him of his loved one; and he knew that for certain when, after a while, he looked at her while she was running away from him, because he sighed heavily, as if he held his breath the entire time they had been dancing, and his body tensed in complaint, as if he wasn't ready to let her go.
Hugging her tightly, he enjoyed the warmth of her body and he used it to drive away the cold and the solitude of the last week, and for a moment he believed he had truly missed her. Was that what she wanted, to put him under pressure so that he would start believing that he cared for her? Or was she using her magic just for her pleasure, to get rid of him? But Killian knew that it was silly, that it couldn't be possible, because it would contradict the reasons behind his slavery, his being in love with Emma and being far away from his loved one for the rest of his life.
Contradiction. There it was, always there, stuck there. And it was sticking to Killian too, forcing him to roam around like a desperate soul. Abruptly standing up, he looked outside the window briefly and he couldn't help but feel sorry for the sun, which was fighting a war against the fog that Maleficent had brought with her arrival, unable to win against all that darkness. He missed the Enchanted Forest of his childhood, because it reminded him of a moment of his life when he was happy, happy like he had never been since then. He reached for the door and the moment when he went through it, he felt his body relaxing and all of his tribulations fell away from him. And he felt relieved as if he has been drowning , but eventually beat the water and was able to breath again.
His feet ran quietly across the corridor, knowing the destination. Killian Jones was a man used to fighting, not running, and that was the reason why he went to Maleficent's room without any second thoughts: he did not want to avoid her. He wanted to know his enemy so that he could understand how to defeat him. But still he didn't know if his enemy was Maleficent or himself. Coming closer to the open door, he crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the beautiful, beautiful woman on the balcony, her long, black hair moved by the breeze, her face apparently absorbed in deep reflections. He had always liked her beauty, but there was something more that was keeping him there, stuck with a shoulder resting on the doorpost and a strange feeling in his stomach.
«Hey!» Once again, he couldn't keep his lips under control. Suddenly Maleficent turned her head, taken by surprise, but her expression relaxed when she recognized him; she smiled almost sweetly, not a trace of the insane, spasmodic cruelty they both were used to appear in her eyes. Three days had been gone since the night they danced together.
«Hey!» she said back and Killian sniggered, hanging and shaking his head until his eyes were back on her.
«Did I interrupt something?» he asked, moving away from the doorpost and making his entrance into the room, which was essential, elegant and cold, both similar and different from its owner. When he passed the bed where she was supposed to sleep, his gaze lingered on it for a few moments without a reason, his thoughts too frozen and confused for him to understand all of them.
«No, nothing that was worth my time» she answered, and, when he reached for her, Maleficent stared at him, a few feet from the balustrade where she was almost sitting. In that moment, her eyes were so quiet, so deep and beautiful in their nostalgic look that Killian saw it, the vulnerability that motivated him to hold her for almost a half hour on the note of a fictional melody. Instinctively, he raised an eyebrow as if he was asking for some explanation.
«Do you remember asking me about my past, if I ever lived with anyone?» Killian nodded, his eyes fixed on hers. «I told you that I didn't remember and I wasn't lying. So, in these days, I've been trying to recall my memories of places and people from my past, but it looks like everything's blurry.» She fell silent for an instant and Killian realized that he wasn't the only one who was touched by their last meeting. A part of him was relieved by that revelation, but another one was deeply concerned, because, even if her words meant that she wasn't playing any tricks on him and that he wasn't the one who had inexplicable feelings, he wasn't sure of the meaning of their sudden connection. «Can you see the fog?» Her black eyes left his and when she turned her back to him, they explored the dreadful landscape in front of them. Killian took a step closer until he was just behind her, and he could feel her hair and the cloth of her long dress touching his face and his pants, respectively. «It's like my past is wrapped by the same fog, just thicker, so that I'm not able to see what's in there. I get a glimpse of silhouettes and profiles, but nothing clear.» Once again she fell silent, and the man realized that she was trying to defeat the fog that was trapping her memories.
«Is it so important for you to remember?» he asked, and he watched her turn around, inch by inch, until she was facing him, closer than they have ever been in circumstances as peaceful as that one. When they danced together, their faces pulled closer, cheek to cheek, but never really touching, and their steps started slowing down, their breaths more regular but their thoughts running wild, so wild that none of them would have heard the other one if a word had left their mouths. Thinking about it, Killian was about to smile, but he realized it was not the proper moment, so he just waited.
«Try to imagine a life where you don't know how you became who you are, Killian, a life of which you don't have any memory, or even know if you have lived it at all. Would you be happy?» she said, her gaze still quiet, and Killian admitted to himself that he was enjoying that version of Maleficent, because there was humanity and even wisdom in her, qualities that he couldn't believe she had, so young and still so cruel.
«Are you unhappy, then?» he ventured to ask and, just like he did before when he was at the door, arms crossed, she laughed a bit and looked away, her eyes brushing against the walls of the castle.
«I've never been unhappy as far as I remember. So I don't know what it feels like. I can just tell you that this uncertainty is not enough to ruin my actual happiness, but I keep thinking about it when I have time» she answered, and her sincerity humbled him deeply, because he was expecting anything but such a genuine explanation about a situation that was torturing and devastating so many innocent people. When Maleficent's eyes met his, Killian realized that the evil sickness she had inside her was about to be back and he became alarmed. He didn't want that moment to be over, he wasn't ready to let her go yet.
«You know, there are some things about my past that I would like to change» he said abruptly, and left both her and himself speechless. Was it possible that two weeks of imprisonment and solitude were enough to get him to the point of making him crave a conversation? Killian Jones, who had lived of solitude for many years? Her words from their last night together rang in his mind: "but it doesn't matter! I love solitude. It doesn't bother me." «For example, the fact that I ran away from my family, from my home, as if it was a prison, as if it was a torture living there, just to realize that it was not the place that was wrong. It was me!» His blue eyes stayed into hers, as if the blue could defeat the darkness, like water with fire.
«And you regret to have left Emma behind and to have come when it was too late» she completed his sentences, and Killian shook his head, sighing, his lips curled in a soft, amused smile. One day, he would have realized if it was mere perceptiveness or mind reading. One day, perhaps, she would have said.
«Yes. That too.»
«Why did you leave, if you were so in love with her? Because I suppose you already loved her before your departure, otherwise the sacrifice you made would be useless or even meaningless» she pushed him, sincere curiosity in those eyes that Killian was starting to like. Sniggering, he raised his eyebrows and took an attitude that he didn't take for a very long time, an impudent and amused look on his face that made him look younger than he was. Without even realizing it, he snapped at his bottom lip and then licked it, as he was used to do when he felt pressured.
«Is that so? You suppose?» he asked and she laughed, so beautiful that she took his breath away.
«You couldn't be in love with the memory you had of Emma, could you? And if that were so, your sacrifice was chivalrous, but foolish.» She fell quiet while he was looking at her, smiling, his eyes shining as never before since they first met. «So I hope you really loved her and that it was True Love.» An insolent cunning colored the blue of his eyes.
«Am I supposed to think that you're starting to care about me, Maleficent?» Killian watched her laughing and, for an instant, he got the impression that they were nothing more than two normal people, a man and a woman that were teasing each other.
«Is that so? You suppose?» she mocked him.
«Touché!» he echoed her, remembering the other night, and once again she smiled, not ready to give up on their little argument.
«Am I supposed to think that you're starting to care about me, since you remember my words so well, Killian?» They both laughed and it was difficult to believe that scene. His own parents would have doubted that it was Killian if it wasn't for the sound of his laughter; the last time they heard him laughing that way, he was just a child.
«And what if it happened?» he asked, a smile still lingering on his lips.
«What?» she asked back, so innocent that Killian couldn't help but believe her. Killian was a handsome man, about thirty years old, and his good looks had always ensured him of easy conquests with lovely, but predictable women that were far different from Maleficent. In many ways.
«What if, one day, perhaps,» he mocked her and her crimson lips gifted him another smile, «I start caring for you? What if I fall in love with you?» She raised her eyebrow, but the look on her face was still jovial.
«Why would you?» she asked, and Killian couldn't help but soften, insomuch as Maleficent got confused, even scared. She didn't know the look on his face, or its meaning, but she knew that it was different than the look in his eyes last night, the night when he joined her unexpectedly, the night when she couldn't step away from him even though her entire being was screaming in alarm, the night when she stayed in his arms longer than she should have, the night she felt frightened as never before.
«It's not something you can control. It just happens. You cannot decide if, when, and how to fall in love with someone» he tried to explain, but she looked confused and he couldn't stop himself from laughing a bit. «You've never felt this way, do you?»
«I don't want to be meticulous, I swear, but do you really believe I had the opportunity of meeting anyone since I arrived here?» she said, and, gesturing so naturally that it was almost unbelievable, she pointed out the devastation she was the master of. Killian should have been mad at her and he partially was, but the feeling that he got was different than the anger after she spoke.
«Wouldn't you like to feel it?» he asked, curious to know what her thoughts were. Snapping at his bottom lips, his stormy blue eyes glanced over her face. He knew he shouldn't think of it, but she was stunning and her beauty even seemed to have grown since the last time they spoke, as if the atmosphere around them was playing to make her more and more beautiful.
«You mean, would I like to care about someone – or his memory – so desperately to trade my life in exchange for his and beg him to move on, while I'm stuck in a strange place, far away from the people who love me?» Once again, Killian laughed and he couldn't help but ask himself how that was possible, that his mood changed so much from the moment he walked into her room? How was that possible considering that she was the reason of his uncertainty?
«It looks awful that way» he told her. A soft breeze blew around them and between them, and a strand of her dark hair brushed against his cheek before she put it behind her ear.
«Now you know how people look at you.»
«Are you always so biting?» he asked, once again with that naughty look on his face that made him win many women's heart. That was the first time he was not using it to seduce someone; he was just feeling that way, no other reason.
«Oh no! Only when I am not horrific or cruel!»
Hearing those words, Killian laughed heartily, and, for a moment, he had the impression that his grief was nothing more than a dream. A dream like the one he had of Maleficent the night when he came back to his room after dancing with her. The night when, lying on his bed, he dreamt of her being in his arms, on those same sheets where he had been sleeping, and to kiss until he was about to pass out. And the softness of her pale skin seemed so real, her breathless sighs so close, her long-limbed body so his that, when he woke up, he needed to wash himself in cold water to become convinced it was just a dream. It wasn't the desire he had felt for her that upset Killian, but the fact that he was making love with her, the fact that he had saved a tenderness for her that he had never used for any woman he had slept with. And he made love with Maleficent, not with Emma who could have been hiding behind her. It was the dream that was the starting point of his tribulations.
«Killian» she said, and, as it had already happened, his name sounded sweeter on her lips. Killian stared at her and his face reflected the seriousness she was showing to him, the sick fire still extinguished in her eyes. «When you came here, you wanted to ask me something. What was that?»
«W-What..?» Killian looked at her in shock and he started to ask himself if she really was able to read his mind, if she knew how confused he was about her. She smiled at him, almost motherly.
«Your eyes are crystal clear, Killian, which means that they would betray you if you would try to hide something to anyone.» She fell silent, enjoying the heartbreak in his blue eyes. «It's beautiful!» Hearing those words, he mirrored her smile.
«There's a lot of Emma in you. Physically I mean. I've noticed it more than once and I was wondering how that was possible» he told her, and his lips reproduced a guilty smirk, as if he was afraid to hurt her by admitting his doubts, but she smiled at him with the same understanding sweetness.
«I imagined it, because, sometimes, when you talk to me, there's a particular… tenderness in your eyes, if that's the right word» she mocked herself, and smiled at him even more. The unusual feeling he felt that morning suddenly came back to pester his stomach, but it was different this time, as if he was sorry she felt that way, and Killian was about to lose control of his lips if she didn't go on with her considerations. «I don't know why this happens, Killian.» Once again, his name seemed different on her lips. «Perhaps you love her so desperately that you need to find her somewhere and I am the closest thing to a woman around here.»
In that moment, listening to her, Killian realized something unexpected, something he could have never imagined, because he could not believe it was possible: Maleficent wasn't even vaguely aware of her beauty, she didn't know how breathtaking her smile, her eyes, and her voice were; she wasn't aware of the power of her attractiveness and that meant she didn't think she was pleasant. But, above all, she couldn't believe that someone could find her attractive, that someone could truly enjoy the idea of spending time with her, that someone could want to be with her. Looking at her, Killian couldn't wash away the impression that she believed she wasn't enough; not pretty enough, not charming enough, not brilliant enough, not amusing enough, not sweet enough, not normal enough, not perfect enough, not human enough. Simply not enough.
«God!» he whispered, and he raised his hand up until he reached her cheek; his fingertips plunged in her hair, his thumb caressed her skin, tenderly, and his mouth gave her another sweet, loving smile. Maleficent thought he wasn't looking at her, but at the woman he loved and with whom he would have liked to spend his life. When the insane fire of her wickedness would have been lifted, the memory of his love for Emma would have pleased her. «That's not the truth, not always» he breathed, as if he was admitting it to himself. «Today, I haven't thought about her, about Emma, not even when we were talking about her. I was thinking of you, I was talking to you, my tenderness was all for you.»
«Killian…» she said and her fingers wrapped around his waist, pushing him away from her, her expression impossible to read. Unexpectedly, Killian's hand slipped into hers until he wrapped her fingers back and squeezed them.
«Don't leave, please. Let me go!» He knew he could not explain the reason of something to her that he wasn't able to understand himself.
«Why?» she asked, her voice a slight murmur, and, for the first time, she was the one stuck by his gaze.
"Because I can't handle you running away from me" he would have said, but he tightened his lips and smiled. Slowly, he bent down until his mouth touched the skin of her hand and, closing his eyes, he rested a delayed kiss on it, followed by a long sigh. Then he released her fingers and, not even looking at her, he turned his back and left the room.
When he went through it, an uncontrollable wind blustered around the castle, echoing through the palace, across the dying forest, as if it was a screamed litany, no words, no sound. And that wind pestered the inhabitants of the Enchanted Forest with the same virulence, forcing them to lock their houses, bolt their doors and windows, and pray to the magicians, saints, or gods they believe in to spare their children's life. They were scared as much as the wind and its cry. Scared and melancholic.