Chapter 13

Enchanted Forest, about 2 years before the 1st curse

Anne woke slowly, gradually swimming to the surface of consciousness. Her bed swayed, rocked back and forth. Well that was strange. Anne opened her eyes and looked around, confused at first.

And then the memories rushed in. Anne's cheeks flamed scarlet as she remembered the passionate night she'd spent with the dashing Captain Hook. She felt languid and refreshed and utterly debauched. She stretched slightly, feeling sore in places that deepened the flush on her cheeks.

When the captain had offered her a "nightcap" in his quarters she'd not know quite what he meant. She knew he meant to offer her more than another drink; after all, he could have given her that at the tavern, but she'd had no idea he meant to do…well, what he did. Was this what Miss Hornigold had warned her about? If so, she sincerely wished she'd ignored her advice long long ago.

They'd no more than reached his ship, the Jolly Roger, before he led her below deck to his quarters—to his bedroom. He'd whispered something seductive and low—so low she couldn't even make out the words—and then he was kissing her.

The kiss shocked her. She'd been kissed before, of course. She was considered a rather beautiful young woman, after all. But not like this. Never like this. The respectful young swains who had stolen kisses in the past had done little more than press their lips to hers. It had been frankly underwhelming.

Captain Hook, on the other hand, had nearly devoured her, teaching her bit by bit, little by exquisite little just what a kiss could be. His mouth, his wandering hands were insatiable, and after the first moment of absolute shock, her mind had gone blank, all thought had fled, and all that was left was the feeling, the sensation, the fire that started somewhere in her middle and expanded to flood every inch of her body.

Anne had always been a quick learner, and last night it served her well. It took mere moments of kissing the captain before she was eliciting moans and growls from deep within his chest. For some reason, he kept calling her "Milah," but as long as he was bringing out these sensations within her, she couldn't care less what he called her.

Need for…well, she wasn't quite sure what…throbbed within her.

Then his hand reached for the laces at the front of her corset, and Anne felt a quick check within her spirit. She had to stop this; she had to. Things were quickly spiraling entirely out of control, and if she didn't step back…well she had a feeling she was about to learn all of the secrets of what happened between men and women. Miss Hornigold had given her the basics, of course, but the particulars were still shrouded in fascinating mystery.

Mouths still fused, Hook began moving forward, heading inexorably for the small bed along the wall.

Making a heroic effort, Anne had pushed against Hook's chest, putting a few precious inches between them.

He grinned at her wickedly. "Hard-hearted lass! Don't you know how much I need you; how desperate I am for your delicious love."

"Perhaps we'd best move a bit more slowly, Captain," Anne said, surprised at how breathy her voice had become.

He moved forward, wrapping her in his arms, and then he dipped his head to kiss her collarbone. "There's no rush, lass, I've got the whole night to love you."

That wasn't quite what she'd meant, but then he was kissing her again, and the last of her scruples, the last of her common sense had fled. This time, when he led her to the bed, she put up no resistance.

The night had been an education like none she had ever had. Never had she imagined intimacy between a man and a woman could be like that. Anne knew without doubt that her adventure last night had changed her life forever. Nothing would ever be the same again.

Because she loved him. After what happened here last night, she loved him like she'd never even imagined loving a man. She could never go back to Miss Hornigold's; she could never marry any of the bores who courted her. Never did she want another man but Captain Hook.

He felt the same; she knew he did. It was obvious in the words he spoke to her, the gentle caresses, the way he took exquisite care of her. He loved her.

Anne began spinning an elaborate castle in the clouds. She would become his pirate bride, sailing the seas with him, joining in his adventures, and loving him with every fiber in her being. She would be a good wife to him. True, he'd never said a word about marriage last night, but she had no doubt he would soon. How could anyone spend a night like that without being madly in love, without intending marriage and family and happily ever after?

Anne rolled over, planning to throw her arm around the man next to her…but the bed was empty. The first wisps of doubt slowly made their way into her mind, but she threw them aside. He'd be back any minute, and then their beautiful adventure could really begin.

….

Hook stood at the deck, staring sightlessly out at the open sea, sending up a silent thanks that it was cloudy today. His head felt like it was splitting in two, and bright sunlight probably would have sent him to his very knees.

When was the last time he'd imbibed so liberally? More than likely he hadn't drunk so much rum in one sitting since the early days after Milah's death.

Milah. The pain was there, just below the surface, of course, but there was something more today. There was guilt, an emotion he had been ruthlessly shoving aside for nigh on three centuries. The origin of his guilt? That young brunette beauty currently sleeping in his bed.

Hook groaned, and then grabbed his aching head. He'd known she was an innocent; it was more than evident in her responses to him as soon as they'd returned to his quarters. A gentleman, a man of honor would have pulled back, would have sent the lass on her way.

But, evidently he was not a man of honor nor a gentleman. He was a cad, pure and simple. He'd seen a beautiful young lass who was clearly out for an adventure, an adventure of which she didn't understand the ramifications, and he'd taken everything she'd offered—and seduced her into offering yet more.

How was he to deal with her? She'd want more from him; he knew she would, but there was no more within him to give. Regardless of her looks, this "Tiger Lily" was not his Milah, was nowhere close to his Milah. Best he send her on her way as quickly as possible.

The thought made him feel vaguely uncomfortable. He was going to break her heart—a heart she had worn openly on her sleeve throughout the long, passion-hazed night.

And then he deliberately hardened his heart. He'd committed no crime; he'd merely given the lass what she'd wanted. If she was hurt by the experience, that was no fault of his. Perhaps she'd emerge from this experience a wiser woman, a woman who would think twice about offering everything she had to a charming stranger.

He walked firmly toward the hatch and descended to his quarters. She was sitting in his bed looking slightly dazed and thoroughly debauched. As soon as he made his appearance a wide delighted smile lit her face. Hook made a beeline to his stash of rum. He was going to need it.

"Good morning, captain," she said shyly. Just how old was this girl? Her voice this morning sounded like that of a young child.

"Lass," he said with a nod of his head. He poured himself a shot and downed it in one smooth movement. The spicy fire fortified him. Turning toward her, he hardened his face into lines of both coldness and contempt. He saw confusion enter her beautiful eyes.

"Why are you still abed, lass?" he asked icily. "Normally my women are up and gone with the dawn; they know I prefer it that way."

The confusion was laced with distress now. "But…but Captain," she stuttered, "am I not to set sail with you?"

He mentally groaned. She was going to make this as awkward and difficult as possible.

"What in any of the realms would have given you that idea, darling?"

Her eyes filled with tears. "Last night…I just thought…but Captain…I love you!"

He eyed her indifferently and then turned away, pouring himself another shot of liquid fortitude. "That would seem to be your misfortune, my dear, not mine. I don't fall in love with the playthings I bring to my ship for a quick tumble."

He heard her quick, shocked indrawn breath, and hated himself.

"Well, up and about darling," he said brusquely. "Make yourself decent. I've a mind to set sail soon, and I've no wish to wait for you to take your leave."

She merely sat there, tragedy lurking in her eyes.

"Oh, is it this you require?" he asked, pulling a small pouch of gold from his pocket and tossing it on the bed. "Payment for services rendered? It was perfectly adequate in my drunken state, but a bit of advice. If you wish to amass any amount of wealth in this way, work on your technique."

All color drained from her cheeks at his implications, and then they flushed an angry red. The tragedy was gone, replaced by a deep rage, if her flashing eyes were any indication. She leapt to her feet, donned her remaining clothing, and flung the money pouch at his feet. The satin burst at the violent contact, and gold coins scattered throughout the room. Giving him a contemptuous glare and a furious imprecation that he certainly deserved, the lass stalked from the cabin.

Foregoing the shot glass, Hook upended the bottle into his waiting mouth. He half wished the lass had run him through with his own sword. It was no more than he merited.

Waters off the Enchanted Forest, present day

Ursula extended her hands, effectively silencing the pleading mermaid before her as her soul left her body and planted itself in Ursula's garden. Ursula closed her eyes in relief, feeling the rush of power flow over her once again. Ten silent, vacant-eyed merpeople now treaded water before her, awaiting her orders.

She sighed in relief. She liked merpeople. She loved merpeople. Nice, happy, mindless compliant beings who did what she wanted when she wanted how she wanted…and with no commentary. They were the ideal servants.

They were nothing like humans. It had taken a grand total of one day for her to realize that things didn't work the same way when it came to humans. Oh she could control them, alright. She could make them do what she wanted, but she couldn't get rid of their arrogant, annoying personalities. Souls or no souls, they continued on as they had before—voicing their opinions, glaring at her, insulting her, muttering under their breath.

Albert believed it was because she was dealing with pirates. According to him, the nasty creatures spent so much time acting like they had no souls that it was no wonder that their demeanor didn't change when they actually had lost them.

Within a week, she was so fed up with the blighters that she transferred Albert to sewage for a month in retaliation for his suggestion she use pirates in her mission.

She spent half her life these days pulling her hair out, more frustrated than a stepped-on jellyfish. Oh but she dreamed. Oh, yes, she dreamed. Long, delicious dreams where she wiped saucy grins off smug faces. Beautiful, radiant dreams filled with pirates suffering pain and torture and maiming. All she could do was dream, more's the pity. To her great, great sorrow, Albert had been quite correct about the whole "impervious" thing. There wasn't a damn thing she could do to harm the men.

A month in sewage was not nearly enough. She might just move Albert there permanently!

But frustrating, cocky, profane, violent, vulgar, infuriating pirates stuck where she put them were bad enough. Pirates who managed to get away—well, that was nothing but catastrophe. Three days ago she'd woken from an absolutely exhilarating dream where she was pulling Blackbeard's fingernails off one by one, only to find the pirate captain and his entire crew gone. Gone! Without a trace.

Ursula's immediate fear was that the men had managed to retrieve their souls and escape, but when she rushed to her garden she found their black, shriveled souls still staring at her—arrogantly. So they hadn't escaped…but they had managed to leave. How?

As the day moved along, it became painfully obvious just how. Her magic, her power was slipping. Fast. At this rate she had less than a month before she lost absolutely everything. The fear threatened to overwhelm. So much that she couldn't even eat over the last two days.

Finally she'd called Flotsam and Jetsam to her. It was a sad commentary on her newest servants when the slimy fish brains were starting to look kind and considerate to her; that's what happens when you surround yourself with pirates.

Anyway…she'd tasked them to go round up as many gullible saps as they could get their fins on. She wheeled and dealed with the best of them, and finally, finally she was beginning to get a return on her investment. The first batch of poor, unfortunate souls had reneged on their deals, and she had them!

The power and magic she felt thrumming through her body wasn't nearly as much as it should be, but it was enough to get those bloody pirates back.

"Blackbeard!" she shouted, "get your skinny biped rear-end back here. Pronto!"

It took quite a bit longer than she would have liked, but in due time the bearded menace sauntered in unconcernedly. "Yes, oh sea-witch most foul. You bellowed?"

"I don't bellow. And you'd better watch your tone, bucko!"

He merely grinned, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Where the hell did you and your lackeys go? What in Poseidon's name gave you the right to skip out on me?" she asked menacingly.

The dangerous tone seemed to have no effect on the pirate. "Where I and my men went is my business. As for who gave me the right? I answer to no one. I gave myself the right."

Steam was about to come pouring out of her ears; it really was. "You. Belong. To. Me." She spat, articulating every word with care.

Blackbeard's careless, cocky manner suddenly evaporated and he became positively menacing. "I belong to no one, do you hear me? No one! I am my own man and no fat bitch of an octopus is going to tell me otherwise."

Thank Poseidon that whole "impervious" thing went both ways. She was pretty sure if he could have, he would have wrapped those big, rough hands around her neck and squeezed. "Okay, okay," she said with a placating gesture. "Keep your pants on big guy. It was just a simple question. Where'd you go?"

He eyed her moodily for several moments, and then finally melted back into his cocky pose. "The surface. I was given vital information on the Evil Queen and her interests, and I took advantage of said intel."

"What'd you care about the queen?"

He gave her a scathing look. "She's the one who sold me to you."

Yeah, well, that might give someone a grudge, she supposed.

The pirate's demeanor changed yet again. He looked positively pleasant.

"Ursula, is that a new dress? I quite approve. It's rather slimming."

Uh-huh. She wasn't buying this guy's crap for a moment. "Alright wise guy, just what is it you want?"

He sighed. "What? Can't a man merely pay a compliment?"

"Yeah, where you sea slugs of pirates are concerned…pretty sure that's an impossibility."

"Fine," Blackbeard bit out. "I do have a request however."

"Lay it on me big guy."

"I've just received word that my plot has borne fruit. The Evil Queen has returned. Allow me to return to land, go to the castle."

"She's a powerful magical being," Ursula says, "you're not. You don't even have your soul. What do you think you're going to do to her? Sing show tunes until she's annoyed to death?"

It appeared the pirate was holding onto his temper with the greatest difficulty. "I may not be able to take her by force or end her worthless life, protected as she is by her magic, but that doesn't mean I cannot harm her. I can lure her to me."

"Then what?"

"I give her to you."

"Me?" she asked, startled. "Why'd I want her?"

"Think, your bulbousness! Take her soul and all her magic, all her power is yours. Take her soul and you have a new weapon. Take her soul and you have the perfect slave to help you accomplish your mission."

Suddenly a whole new world of possibilities opened up before Ursula. Maybe she was aiming too low. Why should she settle for uncouth pirates when she could have a queen? For the first time in all the time she'd had Blackbeard in her soul collection she was truly glad she'd grabbed him. Still, best not to let him know that. His head would get so big he wouldn't be able to wear that ridiculous tri-cornered hat.

"How do I know you don't just plan to fly the coop once I give you permission?" she asked skeptically.

"I shall provide you with a bit of insurance," Blackbeard said. "Only release me in part. Weakening though you are, I know you still have the power. Release me in part, and I will be little more than a ghost. I only ask that you allow me enough of my corporal body that I can hold and handle a piece of paper. In such a state I will be literally incapable of double-crossing you."

It was a good plan; truly brilliant. "Alright sonny boy. Have at 'em."

Enchanted forest, Snow and Charming's castle, present day

"Who are you?"

Emma skidded to a halt in the infirmary doorway at Robin's hoarse question. Regina turned and looked at her, shock and pain in her brown eyes.

"I…I'm Regina, Robin," she said hesitantly, turning back to the injured man. "Don't you remember me?"

Emma walked silently into the room and stood behind Regina. The outlaw glanced in confusion between the two women.

"No," he said finally, agitation evident in his voice. "I don't know you, either of you. I don't believe we've ever had the pleasure of meeting."

"You received quite the blow to your head," Emma said matter-of-factly. "That would explain some memory loss."

Robin reached up with his left hand and gingerly probed the bump at the back of his head and then groaned.

"What happened to me?"

"We were kind of hoping you could tell us that," Emma said. "Do you remember anything about the attack?"

"The attack?" his eyes suddenly widened, and then terrible pain filled them. "A..aye. I remember the attack now."

Regina reached over and took his hand. "Can you tell us about what happened?"

Tears filled Robin's eyes, and he hastily turned his head to hide the evidence of his emotions. Finally he turned back to the two women. "Aye. It was just a week past. My wife, Marian, and I were spending a quiet evening at home when Friar Tuck came to give us the news."

Um…what?

"It seems the Evil Queen went on another of her murderous raids," he spat the name as though it was a curse word. "She murdered every last man woman and child in my dear Marian's home village. My brave, beautiful wife! The only woman I've ever loved! She'd dead because of what happened that day."

The emotions finally became too much for him, and deep, wracking sobs shook his body. Regina watched him with tragic eyes. She'd gone so pale Emma feared she was about to pass out. Finally it seemed as though the worst of Robin's grief was spent for the moment.

"Forgive me, ladies," he said in a shaky voice, a flush of embarrassment tinting his face, "but it's only been a week. My…loss still feels like a large, gaping wound."

"It's alright, Robin," Regina said gently, stroking his arm

After a moment a new thought seemed to strike Robin. "Where's Roland? Where's my tiny babe?"

Regina and Emma exchanged glances, and then Regina started to speak hesitantly. "Robin…he's been…"

"Well cared for," Emma broke in, giving Regina a significant look. "Don't worry about your son. We won't let anything happen to him."

"My thanks," Robin said with a nod that brought a groan of pain to his lips.

Regina grabbed a small bottle from the bedside table. "Drink this, Robin," she said tenderly. "It's a potion to deaden the pain."

He did as requested, and within moments his brow smoothed, and a look of relief crossed his face. "Thank God," he whispered, and then his eyes slowly drifted shut.

"Is he slipping back into the coma?" Emma asked in concern.

Regina shook her head, and then swiped at her suspiciously moist eyes. "No. This potion for pain causes drowsiness. It's just as well; sleep will help him heal."

"Come on Regina," Emma said after a moment, "let's go get the healers. They need to know he's woken up."

Regina looked up and finally nodded. She got to her feet and slowly preceded Emma from the room, her head bowed, her hands clenching and unclenching. As soon as they'd cleared the doorway and found themselves in the dimly-lit stone hallway, Regina stopped and turned to Emma.

"He doesn't remember me. He thinks Marian just died." Regina's voice was hollow almost monotone.

Emma's eyes reflected her sympathy. "I'm sorry, Regina."

"He…he thinks of the Evil Queen as the woman who caused his wife's death. He doesn't remember what we had last year."

Emma placed a comforting hand on Regina's arm. "I'm not a doctor or anything, but I think it's not unusual for someone with a head injury to suffer amnesia for a while. Eventually the Robin you know—the one who loves you—will come back."

"I hope so," Regina said bleakly, "but in the meantime, don't tell him who I really am. It was hard enough when he hated me last year when we didn't even know each other. If he looked at me with that kind of venom now…."

"No problem," Emma said. "You can be just Regina, a servant or nurse or something. Maybe you can put in a good word for the Evil Queen while you're taking care of him."

Regina smiled sadly. "As much grief as he's feeling for the wife he thinks just died, I'm not sure all the good words in the world would make much difference. Look, Emma, I know we need to get the healers and tell everyone else what's happened, but I just can't face people right now."

"Don't worry about it; just sit tight. Stay with Robin; I'll take care of everyone else."

'Thanks."

….

Blackbeard glided soundlessly through the halls of the castle. The clock in the great hall had just chimed 3:00 a.m., so he was reasonably sure to meet no one during this mission. Still, if he did, he could quite literally melt into the shadows.

As he'd surmised, Ursula had managed to partially free him. For now, he was more ghost than man. He held up his hand and saw it's faintly translucent quality in the uncertain light of the wall sconces. He wouldn't relish remaining in this state permanently, but it was dead useful when performing tasks that required secrecy.

As he walked through the halls he searched room by room to find the woman he was looking for. It seemed this floor was largely empty, but there was a faint light shining from beneath the last door on the left.

Cautiously, Blackbeard eased the door open inch, by precious inch. By the potions, bandages and other healing aids lining the walls, he surmised he'd reached the infirmary. Only one of the five beds appeared to be occupied.

Robin Hood. The bed was occupied by a sleeping or unconscious Robin Hood. And there beside him, in an uncomfortable, straight back chair sat his quarry, the Evil Queen herself. She'd fallen asleep and her head lay uncomfortably against her chest. Perfect.

Never had Blackbeard wanted something more than he wanted to produce a weapon and decimate the perfidious witch where she sat, but he couldn't. In his current only partially-there state, he couldn't touch her.

Blackbeard silently glided to the bed, pulled a small, thin envelope from his breast pocket, placed it on the bedside table, and left the room.

A grim feeling of satisfaction filled him. He'd accomplished what he'd set out to do. With any luck the queen would take the bait.

….

Regina woke and groaned. She had a crick in her neck like you wouldn't believe. She needed to get a more comfortable chair, and she needed to get it soon. Many more nights on this torture device and she'd go crazy.

Before last night, Regina had curled up next to Robin when it was time to sleep. He'd lain still and silent, but his warmth, his steadily beating heart brought her hope and comfort. But after he'd come to last evening…well, Regina feared what would happen if he woke at night to find her in his bed. She didn't think she would be able to bear it if he rejected her.

Twisting her neck from side to side, trying to work out some of the kinks, Regina noticed an envelope sitting prominently on the nightstand. That's strange. I could have sworn there was nothing there but healing potions and water when I went to sleep last night.

Curious, Regina took the small missive into her hand. It bore only one word on the front. Her name.

Regina pulled out the single sheet of paper, unfolded it and began to read.

Your reign of terror has finally come to an end. At long last you will pay for the evil you have inflicted on your helpless subjects. I have taken Robin Hood's son, Roland. Be assured he is safe…for now. If your lover ever wishes to see his child alive again, you will come to the north shore near the fallen oak at dawn one week from today. You will come alone bringing neither weapons nor magic. Surrender to me and Roland shall be returned to his father. Ignore this summons and what happens to the boy will be on your head.

All color fled from Regina's face, as the letter fell from her nerveless fingers.

Notes:

-That "in the past" section was certainly awkward and painful. Hook was certainly acting like anything but a gentleman. Considering he's one of my favorite OUAT character (if you hadn't already noticed!), this part was hard to write, but I promise, it's still necessary.

-I can't help but feel sorry for Regina in "the present" section. The hits just seem to keep coming for her. How will she deal with the note? Will she actually give herself up to Blackbeard?

-Up next: Under the sea a year and a half or so before the first curse, Ursula decides to pay Regina a visit—to threaten her for impersonating her and to try to bribe her into finding Ursula a pirate captain. In the present section, Regina makes a decision about how to respond to the note. Meanwhile, Blackbeard comes to realize his other mortal enemy is also currently staying in the castle and the Storybrooke gang figures out who it was who kidnapped Roland.