The Past
"You're sure about this?"
Ciarra murmured the question in his ear as she hugged him from behind, placing her chin gently on his right shoulder.
A sigh escaped Killian's lips as his hands met hers, wrapped lovingly around his torso. Carefully, he brought one of her satiny hands to his lips and laid a kiss on it, before turning to face her.
"No," Killian confessed.
Ciarra nodded as though she'd been expecting it, then grabbed his hand and dragged him away from his almost finished packing and over to the window seat of their rented room. She pushed him down unceremoniously onto one side and sat across from him, eyeing him sternly.
"Killian, I love you, so don't conclude that I say this for selfish reasons. I just want you to know that you have absolutely no obligation to go to this naval academy. You don't owe Liam anything; you need to do what's best for your own happiness-"
"And what about for you?" Killian interrupted gently. "If I become a naval officer, I can support you so that you won't have to work anymore." The thought made his heart ache. Ciarra hadn't complained about working back in their old Northern port town, but he'd seen the way she dragged her feet from tiredness and rubbed her aching back when she thought he wasn't looking.
"I don't mind working," Ciarra insisted.
"But you shouldn't have to," he argued. "If I do this, I can make enough money for us both."
"And what about you? Do you want to serve the king? Is that what's going to bring you happiness, or will it consume you?" Asked Ciarra softly, gently pressing her hand to his cheek.
"I'm not so certain that I can possibly predict my capability for happiness right now," Killian admitted.
"I know you're grieving, but that doesn't mean that you need to-"
"I only know one thing," Killian said, scratching nervously behind his ear. "Any career that brings you happiness will bring me happiness. I want you to have a wonderful life, Ciarra. I want you to not have to struggle to survive anymore. I want you to be able to sit in your house without a care in the world. I want to provide that for you, if I can, and perhaps provide for… others, eventually."
His heart started to pound as an agonizingly slow smile spread itself across Ciarra's face. "Are you saying what I think you are?"
Killian nodded, feeling a blush warm his cheeks. "Ciarra, if you would have me, I would love to make you my wife. I would love to grow old with you and raise our children and oof-"
He was cut off as Ciarra launched her lips onto his own. She pulled away with a radiant smile that brought out large dimples in her cheeks. Killian had to fight back the urge to kiss them.
"Yes, yes, a million times yes," she breathed, dark eyes sparkling.
"You'll wait while I finish school?" Killian confirmed, eyes searching hers as if he couldn't quite believe he'd heard correctly.
"Of course, you halfwit," she agreed, eyes already closing as she leaned in to kiss him.
She had Killian's shirt half unbuttoned, and he was working on the laces at the back of her dress, when the soft clearing of a throat made them both freeze.
"Um... perhaps I ought to come back later?" Liam suggested, lingering in the doorway with a look somewhere partway between amusement and horror.
Ciarra let out an embarrassed squeak. "No, no, Liam, of course not. We're doing nothing that can't be resumed later. I was just... um... helping Killian change his shirt so that... he can pack this one."
Killian, who was in the midst of re-buttoning it, doubled over in silent laughter behind her.
"Clearly," agreed Liam, his eyebrows raised. "Well, come down when you're finished. I'll... um... leave you to it."
As the door closed with a soft click, Killian and Ciarra's eyes met and their suppressed laughter rose to a crescendo.
"Oh, God, I think we've traumatized him," Ciarra choked, face still flushed with embarrassment.
"It's not like he didn't know it was happening," Killian replied. "But still... his face!"
They burst into giggles again.
When their laughter had finally died down, and both of their sides were aching from their mirth (Killian wondered if it was God's punishment for laughing at his brother's expense), Killian put his last few items into his bag. Since first leaving his home, the amount he carried with him hadn't really changed, which meant that he had very little to take.
"Write often?" Ciarra requested, blinking back tears.
"Of course," Killian agreed, gently kissing her goodbye and catching a fallen teardrop on his finger. "I'll see you again soon, I promise."
"Yes," agreed his fiancée with a brave smile.
The Present
"I'm guessing you didn't, though," Emma interjected.
The Past
In fact, Killian was able to see her every month or so while he was away at school, when his workload was sufficiently light that he could journey to the other side of the city for a day.
The Present
Killian chuckled at the surprised expression on Emma's face.
"No, not every acquaintance of mine died the second we parted ways," he confirmed.
"What happened, then?" Asked Emma.
Killian's amusement died almost immediately. "I'll get to that soon enough."
The Past
Most boys started at a younger age than Killian at the naval academy, but, rather than being a hindrance, Killian actually found himself at an advantage. The program usually took two years to complete, but, within a week, Killian had been transferred to second year classes. That meant that, by his eighteenth birthday, he had already left the academy to continue his education on a ship within the navy.
The Present
"Hold on, you just skipped your entire year of school," Emma protested.
"There's not much to tell," Killian countered.
Emma rolled her eyes, lack of sleep now making her increasingly irritable.
"Were you some sort of genius kid in everything, or did they just push you ahead a year because you were old?" She demanded.
"Neither. I'd had quite a good education from my parents before they died, which meant that I was proficient in most subjects."
"Which were?" Emma prompted.
"Foreign languages, etiquette, dance, music, navigation, fencing, writing and grammar, maths, battle strategy and tactics, and, of course, practical knowledge about ships in general. I already had a working knowledge of most, with the exception being skills specific to a ship such as navigation. However, I found common sense allowed me to keep up with my peers," he shrugged.
"Some of those are so strange," Emma muttered.
Her companion looked vaguely offended. "How so?"
"Why would you need to know things about etiquette on a ship?"
"To avoid getting flogged. Or for visiting court." Killian listed them as though they were obvious.
"And your parents taught you that?" Emma asked in amazement.
"While neither of them intended for us to ever visit court, both had spent a considerable amount of time there. Old habits die with difficulty, and you'd be surprised how often points of etiquette would frequent the tales my mother told Liam and me."
Killian smiled at a distant memory. Emma was half-tempted to ask him about it, but she wasn't certain that she could stand listening to Killian recount his mother's stories of "Mr. Manners" and how he learned that bowing a certain way was wrong. Of course, perhaps Christine had made the stories more interesting than the ones that popped into Emma's imagination; Emma wasn't particularly willing to find out.
"Foreign languages?"
"My mother sang in multiple languages and was extremely proficient at them, which meant that she wanted her children to be as well," the pirate reasoned.
"So you're bilingual?" Demanded Emma, starting to feel extremely stupid.
Killian gave her a surprised look. "Of course not, love. I know... five. Six? Six."
Emma's eyes widened.
"I only had a working knowledge of three outside of English at the time," Killian said quickly. "But I had to do something while I passed the years in Neverland. Besides, it's quite simple once you know one other language besides your native tongue; the others just simply fall into place."
A skeptical look flitted across Emma's face, but she quickly pushed it away and changed the subject. "Okay, you said music, clearly that wasn't an issue-" Killian suppressed an ungainly snort "-but dancing? Why dancing on a ship?"
"You'd be surprised how often one frequents court as a naval officer."
"And your parents taught you that?"
"Aye," agreed Killian with another distant smile.
The Past - 1805
"Play me a tune, would you, love?" Requested Christine, blowing sweaty curls out of her face as she prepared dinner.
"Do I have to?" Complained Killian, who was currently lounging in a living room chair with a pout as he waited for Liam to get home. Liam got to go to the docks with their father that day, which struck Killian as massively unfair. He hadn't been allowed since he was too young, even though he didn't imagine that age mattered when he'd just be watching his father work anyway. Edward was currently helping out some fisherman, which meant that he came home every day smelling strongly of salt and more strongly of fish. Killian tried to make himself feel better by reminding himself that he could tease Liam for smelling like fish, but it did little to ease the ache of being left out.
"Yes," Christine told him sternly, waving the ladle in his vague direction. "You're bored stiff, I'm hot as hell, and both of us could use a distraction."
Try as he might, Killian had to admit that his mother's logic was sound. At any rate, playing violin couldn't be any worse than sitting here while Liam got to go out with their father. Plus, his mother had cursed, even if "it's a place, so it doesn't count as a curse, Killian", which always impressed her youngest son, so he supposed that he ought to thank her for that.
With a sigh, Killian climbed off of the chair and got his violin. After tuning - "Killian, I know you're playing that out of tune on purpose. I'm not your father, I can tell," - he played a loud, dissonant chord that made his mother jump slightly.
"How about a waltz?" She suggested, calmly staring her son down. Unlike Edward, Christine never got angry. However, she had a talent of maintaining authority with logic, sarcasm, and a look that Killian imagined could probably melt evil grandfather if he stood still long enough.
"Fine," Killian muttered.
His mother listened closely, even as she bustled around the fire and chopped vegetables. When Killian finished with a flourish, she turned to him thoughtfully.
"That was rather sinister," she observed. "Beautiful, but definitely... macabre."
"What's that?" Killian demanded.
"Creepy. Sinister."
Nodding thoughtfully, Killian said, "Good."
"Any particular inspiration?"
Killian nodded again. "Dead fish."
Christine choked, needing to cough before she could let out her musical laughter.
"Why don't we try something happier this time, love? Not that I didn't enjoy the waltz of the dead fish, but soon I shan't be able to look at our dinner the same way again."
Again, his mother's logic was sound, which caused Killian to play a lighter, bouncy waltz. Soon, Christine was humming along as she tended the vegetables over the fire. Her back was to the door, so she didn't see Edward and Liam come home, but Killian did. Edward put a finger to his lips and crept towards his wife. With a startled cry, Christine was swept into a dance with her husband, while Liam watched in disgust. They twirled around the room gracefully, in spite of the fact that Christine was still holding a dripping spoon. Once, when Edward twirled her away from him, she took a moment to lick the spoon, which caused the whole family to burst into laughter.
"Where did you learn that step, fair lady?" Edward chuckled.
"A dance academy of a far higher calibre than yours, I'm sure," Christine retorted.
Killian ended the waltz with a flourish, and Edward planted a kiss on his wife's hand.
"Thank you for the dance," he said, mock-solemnly.
"Oh, the pleasure was mine, sir, although dinner may now be cinders, and you smell horrific. Did you roll in the fish today? Or is it the new scent at court?" Christine's eyes glimmered with amusement.
"The latter, I assure you," Edward chuckled.
Killian interrupted them with a loud, dissonant chord on his violin.
"I want to try!" He demanded.
"Me too!" Liam added. "I want to make sure I remember the steps." He kept his expression uninterested, but Killian could tell that he was just pretending.
"But Mama is the only woman," Killian protested. "We can't all dance with her."
"Edward would make a marvellous lady for you, Liam," Christine suggested. "I'll go with Killian, since he's just learning."
Liam grinned and nodded. Edward gave Christine a look of horror, but quickly smoothed his expression back into one of neutrality. "Dancing backwards can't be so difficult."
"We'll see about that," Christine challenged, mischief hiding - not very well - behind her own expression. "I'll need to talk Killian through the dance, so can you hum a waltz, Edward?"
Edward now made no attempt to hide his horror. "...alright."
Soon the air was filled with the tuneless humming of Edward's deep voice, which caused Christine to break off her explanations every few seconds to dissolve into laughter. Finally, once she was satisfied that her sons remembered the basic steps, the family started awkwardly dancing through the living room.
"For God's sake, Edward, just because you're not in tune doesn't mean you can't be in time," Christine giggled. "One, two, three, one, two, three..."
"It's hard to dance and hum," Edward protested.
"You just ended mid-phrase!" Christine chided, clearly enjoying her teasing. "Lead, Killian, don't let me lead," she added to her son, far more gently.
"Mama, can I switch partners?" Liam groaned, as Edward began dancing the wrong part once again.
"In a bit, love," Christine promised.
In the end, dinner was ashes, the house was filled with smoke, and Edward still hadn't sung a single note on pitch, but both Killian and Liam were proficient at the waltz. More importantly, it was one of the most enjoyable memories Killian had of his entire childhood.
The Present
"Then, aside from dancing... fencing I already knew from the war, my father taught me some things about ships, and the rest should be self-explanatory," Killian finished.
"That's a lot of subjects," Emma observed.
"We had long days and only one day off per week," Killian explained.
"And your classmates?"
"All a few years younger than I, but a couple were good lads nonetheless. Most were from the upper classes, though, and acted unbearably entitled."
Emma frowned. She'd known people like that as well, and the memories weren't pleasant for her, either. "So you were onto a practical portion by the end of the year?"
"Aye, the rest was based on promotion by merit," confirmed Killian.
"Were you on your brother's ship?" Asked Emma.
Killian shook his head. "On a Captain Roger's ship."
Emma looked at him disbelievingly. "Like the Jolly Roger?"
"Well, partially. The name was also the name of the generic pirate flag, as I assume you're aware. However, it did also remind me of the man who got me to a rank that allowed me to become captain of my ship," Killian acknowledged, pulling out his flask in a silent toast and downing a swift swallow of rum.
"So, he was a happy kinda guy?" Emma asked, lips twitching in their effort to get into a smile.
"On the contrary," he replied as Emma swiped the flask from his hands and took a swallow herself. "He was a miserable bastard. Loved his whip as much as he loved his rules."
Emma looked at her companion sharply, wondering if he'd ever been on the receiving end. She decided she didn't want to know.
"Why on earth did you name your ship after him, then?" Demanded Emma.
"As I said, Swan, he allowed me to receive recognition and a significant promotion," Killian explained.
The Past
"Anyone who surrenders will be keelhauled," Captain Roger roared to his crew as they were boarded by pirates.
No one doubted him.
The fighting was bloody but brief, with only one moment of any true consequence.
Killian was close to the captain when he heard him emit a roar of pain. He made quick work of his current foe before turning to see what had happened. Captain Roger was on his knees, hands around a bloody abdominal wound, as the pirate captain stood over him with his sword raised. Without thinking, Killian rushed over to meet the pirate's blade with his own. The pirate looked stunned for a moment, before baring his extremely rotten teeth and attacking the much younger man ferociously.
Blow was met by blow, and soon Killian felt sweat running down his face. His arms were slowly weakening, but he could tell that the pirate's were as well. The pirate had more experience, but he was also larger, older, and more exhausted. Killian knew that fatigue was often the death of a man in a fight; all he had to do was wait for the pirate to make a mistake.
Finally, the awaited mistake came, and the pirate's blade fell to the deck with a clang.
Killian raised his blade to the man's throat and pressed firmly. "Yield."
The pirate smiled, showing his rotten teeth once again, and shook his head slowly.
"This is your last chance, pirate. Yield," Killian repeated, pressing the blade slightly more firmly to the his tanned throat.
"Give up my honour to a boy, only to go to the gallows? I think not." The pirate sneered. "Death."
Killian nodded and slit his throat.
The battle was over quickly after that.
The Present
"You needn't look so shocked, Swan," Killian commented. "We can't all be as idealistic as your parents and let our enemies live."
Emma nodded, feeling slightly embarrassed that Killian could read her so easily.
"So that caused you to be promoted?"
"That, and the death of Captain Roger's first mate."
The Past
"Jones, the captain will see you now," the ship's medic told Killian gruffly.
After taking a deep breath, Killian walked into Roger's cabins. Killian was nervous, but hid it with straight posture and a smooth expression. Still, it took all of his years of etiquette training and a general acquiring of discipline to keep from retching from the scent of blood, sweat, and something else equally as nauseating in the captain's quarters.
"You asked to see me, Captain?" Killian prompted.
"Jones, get over here. Stop dithering about the doorway," Captain Roger barked.
"Yes, Captain," Killian intoned, walking swiftly to the bedside.
"Sit down at once. Looking up at you is making me nauseous," the captain ordered tersely.
"Yes, Captain," Killian repeated, sitting down stiffly in the chair, knowing how Captain Roger hated anything besides perfect posture.
"You saved my life, Jones," Captain Roger said in his businesslike manner, as though discussing the weather.
"Yes, Captain."
"I suppose you wanted a reward, is that why?"
"No, Captain."
He squinted at his young charge suspiciously. It took all of Killian's willpower and years of practice to remain still under his gaze.
"No, you didn't. You're not from noble blood, are you Jones?"
"No, Captain." Killian lied.
"That's what makes the difference. You don't want things handed to you. You believe in a good work ethic, don't you, Jones?" Captain Roger snorted and then winced.
"Permission to speak freely, Captain?"
"Aye," Roger growled.
"Without a captain, a ship is leaderless, and the success of the battle is compromised. There was no one to replace you, as Fallowfield had fallen. We would have scattered without your leadership and lost. In addition, I was close by, and it would have been dishonourable to let a man die while I could save him." Killian explained in a quick and efficient military clip. Captain Roger hated unnecessary speech.
"Ah, it was about good form and good foresight. An excellent combination," barked Captain Roger.
"Yes, Captain."
Roger squinted at him. "How old are you, Jones?"
"Twenty, Captain."
"Young, but I suppose your actions speak for themselves. How would you like to be a lieutenant, Jones?"
Killian blinked. "Captain?"
"I loathe repeating myself. Answer the bloody question. Will you put that head and good form of yours to good use?"
"Yes, Captain."
"Excellent. Dismissed, Jones."
"I wish you a smooth recovery, Captain," Killian said quickly.
"No prattle, or else I'll change my mind. A new rank won't save you from the cat o' nine tails, Jones, if you don't keep your bloody mouth shut. Dismissed." Captain Roger hissed.
Killian left as quickly as he could without fleeing. As soon as he was out of the room, he allowed a smile to spread across his face. He couldn't wait to tell Liam.
You'll have to forgive me if my naval knowledge (particularly about ranks) is off. I did my best, but I can't promise 100% accuracy. Here's hoping you all know as little about it as I do!
Again, sorry for the delay. Exams are over, and I'm finally back from traveling, so that should mean more frequent and regular updates. For those of you still reading this, thank you!