This chapter introduces Killian's mother. Killian hasn't been born yet, but I promise that it's necessary backstory!
Thanks for reading and thank you everyone who has followed, favourited, and reviewed. I promise to reply to you guys soon; I just wanted to focus on getting this chapter up first!
The Past - Approximately 1789 C.E.
It was evening, and the air was so hot and thick that Christine Crewe could almost taste the jungle on her tongue. Monkeys chattered in the distance, and somewhere an elephant trumpeted. Christine closed her eyes, dangling bare feet into the warm ocean, trying to commit the moment to memory.
"What are you doing?"
A little boy with light blonde hair was looking at her curiously, his nose scrunched up as he considered her in all the seriousness a ten-year-old could muster.
"I'm saying goodbye," Christine said, patting on the rock next to her in invitation.
"Why?" He asked, sitting down agreeably. At his age, four years older still felt like a lot, and the trust he had in Christine's omnipotence was absolute.
"Because I like it here, and I want to remember everything in case we don't return," she replied seriously, her blue eyes boring into her brother's identical ones.
"Oh," he said, looking out across the ocean in consideration. Then, in a small voice, he asked, "do you think the Enchanted Forest will be as nice as it is here?"
"It is," Christine confirmed seriously. She'd been only four when she left, but that left her with more memories of the place than her less-than-a-year-old brother. However, she didn't really remember much of the place itself. She mostly remembered her mother, a thin woman with sparkling eyes, strawberry blonde hair, and a lilting accent that turned every sentence into a question. She tried to remember those good memories of her mother, rather than the bad. It was because of her mother's death that her father had taken them to the Southern Isles in the first place, and that was a nightmarish moment that Christine remembered far too clearly. Her mother had picked her up in a panic, trying in vain to run further into the house to escape the bad men (that was what her father had always called them, and the name had stuck even now that she was older). Then Christine had felt a thump, heard a hitched breath, and fallen to the floor under the weight of her now still mother. She'd been pulled roughly out, with one of the bad men poking a sword towards her neck hard enough to leave a thin scar, when her father had come in and saved the day. They didn't have time to grieve Katie Crewe. The three remaining family members had left on the next ship.
"Christine! Connor!" Their father called.
Connor scampered towards Jonathan Crewe, jumping into his arms. Christine, ever the dignified older sister, followed behind more slowly.
"We have to leave?" She asked reluctantly.
"Yes, love, we do," he said with a sympathetic smile, ruffling her unruly dark curls affectionately.
As much as she hated to admit it, having no mother had never been a problem for Christine. She remembered only a few things about her that didn't even form a complete enough picture for Christine to remember whether she even liked the woman, but she imagined she must have. Her mother had tried to save her, after all, and surely that was enough to prove that she was a good person. However, her memories and the stories she heard about her mother always conflicted. Her mother had met her father when she took him prisoner. To understand why, you had to look back to her parents, who were murdered when she was a child along with the rest of her family by a man who wanted - and got - their throne. As a result, Katie Crewe had been a threat to one of the kingdoms in the Southern Enchanted Forest because she was the one surviving member of her family. That meant that no one there seemed to like her very much, (which seemed a little bit unfair to Christine). Katie had kidnapped John to try to coerce his family - some nobles just to the North - into backing her claim to the throne. From what Christine gathered, that hadn't worked so well because that just made them go to the mean king for help (the "mean king" was another of her father's labels that had just stuck). Then the mean king had decided to execute Katie, but John had secretly freed her in exchange for the promise that she would give up all designs on the throne and try to have a normal life. Apparently, that meant marrying him, because they married in secret less than a year later.
So, that was the issue. On one hand, Christine remembered her mother with the sparkling eyes and musical voice. On the other hand, she heard stories about her mother running around kidnapping people and burning people she didn't like at the stake. Multiple times. All in all, the two pieces of the puzzle were a bit hard for her to fit together.
The Present
"Wait a second," Emma interrupted incredulously. "Your grandmother burned people alive?!"
Killian chortled. "Does that surprise you, love? She was my grandmother."
"Yes, of course it surprises me! That isn't what people normally do!" She said, eyes wide.
"You do know what your son's other mother did to people, right? Murder is a bit more common around here, although perhaps more so when I was a lad."
Emma opened her mouth to reply, then shut it. On second thought, she didn't want to know.
The Past
Christine's inability to grasp who her mother really was made it easy to mostly forgot about her, except for when her father looked particularly sad. She'd explained early on to her brother that his sad face meant he was thinking of Katie and he needed time alone. When he didn't need time alone, he was the best father in the entire world. He liked dancing and chocolate and playing the violin while Christine sang in her pure soprano voice. He had been willing to play ferocious animals during her games as a little (which she always justified based on his beard making him the hairiest), and now that she was older he was still the first person she talked to about anything. He was also a wonderful teacher, and the only teacher Christine had ever had. She'd learned all of the regular subjects from him, like history and geometry and literature and music, but he'd also taught her more important things, like how to use a knife to protect herself. He had a deep laugh and a frequent smile, and Christine knew that he loved her and Connor best in the entire world.
Christine also knew that he was a very good man, which was both good and annoying. He was good, which made Christine love him, but he was also good, which meant that when his adopted family wanted him to come back and help now that the mean king was trying to take over their lands too, Jonathan Crewe didn't even hesitate before agreeing to come.
Christine knew that she was going to miss the Southern Isles. There was no king there, which meant no mean men came and tried to kill her. There were elephants and the people were all kind and spoke to her in a beautiful language that reminded her of a gurgling brooke with its soft, smooth words. The food was spicy and the air was hot, and the ocean was always glimmering invitingly.
However, there was one exciting thing about returning to the Enchanted Forest. The only thing Christine loved as much as the Southern Isles and her family was singing. Her father had (reluctantly) agreed to allow her to go to school in a Northern coastal city to learn how to sing and dance when they got back to the Enchanted Forest while Connor stayed with her youngest uncle, who was going to be in charge of the castle while papa and the rest of his family went to fight the mean king.
Yes, Christine was going to miss the Southern Isles, but perhaps the Enchanted Forest wouldn't be so awful after all.
The Enchanted Forest was awful.
Christine had managed not to cry when she said goodbye to papa and Connor (after making Connor promise to eat his vegetables), but that only meant that now she had to cry as quietly as she could in her room now to make up for it.
A quiet knock on the door pulled Christine out of feeling sorry for herself.
"Enter," she sniffed.
A girl about her age walked in with a broom.
"Apologies, miss, but I'm supposed to clean your room."
Christine looked at her blankly. "I can do it."
The girl looked at her just as blankly. "If you do it, I won't get my wages, miss."
After Christine took a moment to re-evaluate the girl in front of her in case she'd missed something, she asked hesitantly, "aren't your parents employed? You should be getting some sort of an education, shouldn't you?"
The girl's jaw dropped before she dissolved into suppressed giggles. "Oh, no, miss... my parents died years ago. If I wasn't working, I'd be dead on the streets."
"That's not very fair," Christine said. Then her eyes lit up. "Let me help you!"
The girl protested, but Christine ignored her. Soon, the room was clean, and Christine had managed to convince the girl to sit down and talk. They talked for so long that Christine insisted on helping her with her other chores so that she could finish in a good amount of time.
Sari was the first real friend that Christine had. When Christine discovered that Sari slept in the kitchen, she insisted that Sari share her room and the girls talked each night away. Christine suspected that her singing instructor knew that Sari had help with her chores, but she didn't say anything about it so long as Christine kept up with her school work too. The headmistress of the school was another matter, but, fortunately, the woman was too involved in her own affairs to notice the blossoming friendship underneath her nose.
Several months into her first semester, Christine sent a long earnest letter to her father outlining a proposition. On the evening that she received a response, after reading it several times to ensure that her eyes weren't deceiving her, she ran to the dining hall where Sari was currently setting the table for the pupils and students of the school.
Christine was so excited that she almost ran into her friend, who let out a small frightened squeak like a small animal.
"Lord, what was that for, Christine?" She gasped.
"I've received a letter from my father!" Christine said, wrapping her arms around her friend.
"That's good to hear," Sari said, sounding slightly confused.
"No, you have to hear what it says!" Christine insisted, waving the letter around.
"What?" Sari asked, going back to setting the table.
Christine followed her friend around reading excitedly.
"My darling Christine, Sari sounds like a lovely young woman. Indeed, from reading your missive, I almost feel as though I know her myself. As you know, I myself was raised by others than my own parents, and, you are right, I do have great sympathy for orphans. While having one daughter has always been blessing enough for me, I agree that you having a sister could be most agreeable as well. I have sent another letter to the headmistress of your school informing her that Sari is now also my daughter, and look forward to meeting her in the near future."
Sari was so shocked that she dropped the silverware.
The Present
"Your grandfather just adopted her?!"
"He was sympathetic to the plight of an orphan and woefully wrapped around my mother's finger, from what I gather," Killian replied. "But yes, that's the story of how I got an aunt."
Emma frowned, finding it difficult to push down her resentment at anyone getting adopted so easily.
"If it makes you feel any better, I gathered from my mother's stories that the headmistress disliked her as much as you seem to-" Emma blushed slightly, thankful for the darkness to hide it "-and she mistreated both my mother and my aunt terribly, until finally selling them out to the 'mean king', as my mother so astutely put it."
The Past
Over the next year and a half, Christine flourished. She was a skillful musician, both in theory and practice, and started to gain attention from people in high places. She sang at finer and finer events, although she also snuck into town to sing in less upper class areas; the music there was far different - far less refined - and Christine enjoyed the change. While her dance classes weren't comparable to her singing ones, Christine still loved them, especially now that she had a sister to share them with. She suspected that this development was less wonderful for their dance teacher, though, now that she had to tell them off for giggling in the corner. Her sister was by far the best part of school - even better than singing! - and they often stayed up late into the night, whispering stories and secrets to each other.
If there was anything that made life difficult for her, it was Miss Minchin, the headmistress. Christine had felt the woman's hatred from the second they met, and it had only gotten worse when Sari became her sister. Really, Christine thought that Miss Minchin should have been happy; the loss of her servant had meant more money coming to the school in the form of tuition and, increasingly, from Sari's dancing. Christine may have been the school's best singer, but Sari, while hopeless musically, was by far the school's best dancer. Still, nothing seemed to please Miss Minchin, and she always seemed to be looking for reasons to get Christine and Sari into trouble, delighting especially in using the strap.
The spat between her father's family and the mean king ended several months before Christine's sixteenth birthday. Her father had disappeared several months before and everyone had presumed him dead, which the headmistress gleefully took advantage of. For several months, Christine slept in the rat-infested basement and did chores with Sari, discontinuing her lessons but still singing and dancing at various events. Of course, any payment for those went to the headmistress. It was a dark time for Christine that she rarely spoke about even years later.
But then, one day, her father reappeared in spite of all the odds. A tearful reunion followed, and Sari rejoiced in meeting John and later Connor.
The period of happiness that followed was intense but brief. John, Connor, and Sari supported Christine at every event. Her teacher functioned as the closest thing to a mother that Christine had yet experienced. Even her headmistress was somewhat bearable after the return of her father, if only because John had threatened her so severely that she was pale for a week.
Everything changed in January 1792, three months after Christine turned sixteen, when Christine came home from her latest opera performance to find her father extremely ill.
"Connor, fetch a doctor. Sari, find more blankets," Christine said, already starting a fire to try to warm the room. Her father's skin was cool to the touch, pale, and covered in a thick layer of sweat.
"Christine," her father said quietly as Connor ran out into the night.
"Yes, papa?" She ran to her father's side. He looked as if he was halfway to his grave, and she had never been so frightened.
"It seems like when I left you here for school you were a little girl, and now that I'm back, you've somehow grown into a woman. I don't know how that managed to catch me by surprise," he chuckled weakly.
Christine clutched his hand and offered him a small smile.
"You look so much like your mother," he whispered, running his fingers weakly through one of her dark curls.
She watched a solitary tear trace its way down his cheek.
"I am so proud of you in every way, Christine. Never forget that," he said, voice shaking slightly. "But I may be proudest of how loving you are. I know how well you look after your family, and you're the best sister that Connor and Sari could have. You have a nurturing soul. Never lose that, my darling."
"Everything I do I've learned from you," Christine said, pulling out her handkerchief and wiping her father's sweaty face gently.
"Promise me that you'll always look after Connor. He's growing up, but he's still young and needs you more than ever."
"Looking after Connor isn't something that I'll need to do for some time yet-"
"Christine," her father interrupted gently.
Her chin started to tremble. "No, the doctor will be here soon and you'll be fine again. Fever always causes delusions, papa-"
"I know this is difficult, but you're a grown woman now, Christine. You have to promise me that you'll take care of your brother," he repeated, eyes soft and sad.
"I promise, papa, but you'll be fine," Christine insisted, finally giving into the tears that had been threatening to fall since she'd realized just how sick her father was.
"I love you," he whispered with a smile, closing his eyes and giving her hand a gentle squeeze.
When Sari came in with the sheets, she heard soft sobbing.
"Please, papa, I can't lose you twice. Please, come back," Christine sobbed softly into her father's still chest.
Sari dropped the laundry and ran to her friend, holding her head in her lap as she cried.
"Come back," Christine repeated, her voice breaking on each plea.
"Shh," Sari whispered, hugging her friend more tightly.
The doctor pronounced Jonathan Crewe dead, but, from what, he wasn't entirely sure.
The Present
"It was poison," Killian clarified, seeing Emma's thoughtful expression.
"How do you know?" Emma asked.
Killian winced. "I'll get to that."
The Past
Connor cried silently while the doctor was there, but, the second he left, he ran to Christine's arms and threw his arms around her.
The three siblings cried until dawn, when the door broke down with a crash.
They weren't the same mean men from her childhood, but Christine recognized the uniform. They all wore red, with a black hawk imprinted on the middle of each tunic. It was the standard of the mean king, Christine knew.
Christine stepped protectively in front of her siblings, grabbing her father's knife off the table beside him.
"What is your business here?" She asked coolly.
"Put it away, lass," the man at the front said.
"Answer the question," she said, "or I'll kill you."
The man raised his eyebrows at her mockingly. "You could kill me, but then you would also have to slay all of my men, and the men outside of your door. You're surrounded girl. If you surrender, neither you nor your brother nor your servant will be harmed," he promised.
Sari opened her mouth to retort, but Christine interrupted pointedly.
"Thank you for your service, Sari, but I now release you. Please take whatever money is in my father's satchel as a thank you," Christine said, shooting her sister a pleading glance. If they were only aware of her sibling by blood, she intended to keep it that way.
Sari left reluctantly, tears running rivers down her face.
"Put the knife down," the man ordered.
Christine dropped it and walked towards the mean men with her head held high, followed by her trembling little brother.
It was only when they took her brother away from her that she began to panic.
"No, you gave me your word that you wouldn't hurt us!" She snarled.
"We won't," the man agreed. "But our orders require you at the palace and your brother elsewhere. His life will be in no danger so long as you cooperate."
"Christine, don't let them take me!" Connor sobbed, trying to pull away from the much bigger men around him.
Christine rushed towards him and threw her arms around her shaking brother.
"Just follow any demands they have, Connor," she whispered. "I will see you again soon. I promise, I won't let anything happen to you; I'll do anything to keep you safe. We just have to do what they want for the moment, alright? I love you."
Connor's crying would haunt her ears for weeks to come, as would her promise to her father that she had broken less than a day after his death.
When she finally reached the castle of the mean king, Christine felt nothing that she was expecting to. She was expecting to feel fear or dread. Instead, all she felt over her numbing grief was cold hatred. She almost looked forward to meeting this king. Perhaps, if she was fast enough, she'd even be able to strangle him before they killed her. Well, if they didn't have Connor, anyway. They had played the game well, and Christine was clever enough to know when she was in checkmate.
However, there was one thing that she didn't know and couldn't know regardless of how clever she was; within the next few months, she was going to meet her husband.
I'm sure you can guess what the next chapter will be about, but... yes, in the next chapter, the two people with the glorious genes that created Killian Jones will be meeting.
I'm sorry if this chapter feels a bit summary-ish. I didn't want to write ten pages on a backstory of someone in my head who may only interest me, which is why this is a bit more brief. It will get more detailed as we reach things that I think you'll find more interesting or relevant.
Oh, and just a side note if you're curious: Christine had two "fairytale" (it's probably more accurate to just say "fictional") influences that helped me to develop her. One of them should be fairly clear by the end of this chapter if you're familiar with the story. GoT is also an influence to a small degree (mostly just the through the political situation of the time), but I didn't want it to influence me to such a degree that this story ended up being a crossover! However, if the political situation looks a little bit familiar, that's why (and that's as far as that influence is going to go!).