The Present

Emma woke up to the glare of the noonday sun through the leaves overhead. Based on the amount of rain that had leaked through them the night before, she was hardly surprised that the leaves were equally as ineffective at blocking the sun. Still, she didn't want to get up yet: her eyelids ached, her backside ached, her neck ached, her back ached. Really, everything that was possible to ache ached. She was never going to take beds or showers for granted again. "The Enchanted Forest" had such a deceptive name. When she'd first heard it, she'd envisioned a happy, sunny wood with talking, fluffy bunnies. Somehow, she hadn't imagined insects, mud, or tree roots. She'd been here before, true, but it seemed she'd forgotten just how much fairytale land sucked.

With a groan, she rolled over to glance at her companion. She didn't think she'd made much noise, but, nonetheless, her movement caused the sleeping pirate beside her to stir and crack open an eyelid. She really wanted to know where the hell he bought his eyeliner, because it seemed as perfect as the day before. She doubted hers did. Maybe it was magical eyeliner?

"Good morning, love," he murmured, his lips quirking into a hint of a smile.

"I fell asleep," Emma groaned, feeling remarkably ashamed.

"To be fair, I was growing quite bored of the tale as well," he began, only to laugh quietly as Emma fixed a ferocious glare in his direction. "You needed your sleep, as did I. I didn't think I should wake you as we both need our strength for today. I apologize for failing to keep watch; I'm afraid I dozed off soon after you, although I suppose the danger was never very great in this part of the woods."

"How are you feeling?" Emma asked, guiltily remembering her companion's injury.

"Oh, I'm in tiptop shape, as ever," he replied with a crooked grin.

Emma eyed him doubtfully.

"I'm fine, Swan," he added more seriously. "And you?"

"Just wonderful," she said sarcastically, "considering I slept on a forest floor, and I'm stuck in another world and time."

Smirking, Killian shook his head. "Are you always like this in the morning?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," Emma muttered.

Killian gave her a slightly pained look that reminded her that she already knew the answer to that. However, he was back to his usual self only a second later.

"If only we'd engaged in more enjoyable activities last night, Swan. Then I'm sure you'd be much more eager to face the day," he purred.

Emma snorted. "Thanks, but I have a feeling that I have enough leaves and dirt down this stupid dress without taking it off."

Killian raised an eyebrow, amusement and perhaps a touch of hunger flitting across his face.

"So, what's the plan for today?" Emma asked, quickly changing the subject and moving herself into a seated position.

"I, for one, would like to be close to King Midas's castle so that we can get a sense of whether or not your mother succeeds and interfere, if need be," Killian said, stretching.

Emma nodded in agreement, making her best effort to not ogle her companion and failing. "How far is that?"

"If we make good time, we should make it by evening."

"Perfect. That should give you enough time to finish your story," Emma said firmly.

With a groan, Killian shook his head. "Gods, you're persistent."

"I want to know what happened," Emma shrugged.

"Perhaps you'll change your mind eventually. Two hundred years is a long time."

"I don't think I will."

Killian shot Emma a long-suffering look, but didn't argue.

"Shall we break our fast first, love?" He offered, fishing in one of his coat pockets and pulling out a small brown sack, from which he extracted bread and cheese.

Emma tried not to stare. "How big are your pockets?! And where did you get those?!"

"Last evening on my way out of the tavern," Killian said. "They were sitting on a table that was currently unoccupied."

She shot him an incredulous look, and he shrugged. "Pirate."

Perhaps Emma should have refused to eat stolen food, but her hunger outweighed her morals embarrassingly easily. She tried to ignore the smirk on Killian's face as she wolfed down her share of the meal.

After eating and taking care of any other needs, the pair set off through the forest once again.

"So, you came back and Ciarra was dead?" Emma prompted.

Killian shot her an amused look. "A fine effort, Swan, but no. However, my return did start a chain of events that would eventually lead to her death."

The Past

Killian had seen the castle from afar before. He had also heard it play a starring role in many of his mother and father's stories. However, actually being there was quite different than what he'd anticipated.

For one thing, he hadn't imagined how nice it would be. Somehow, neither of his parents had ever addressed the grandeur of the palace within their stories. From the outside, Killian guessed that the castle would be large and gaudy: a show of their king's power and wealth. That much was true, but he'd never realized the full extent of what that would mean.

His bed alone was large enough to fit at least five people, and so soft and comfortable that Killian felt like he was drowning whenever he laid down. He'd only succumbed to the temptation of jumping on it once, which was something he was very proud of. The dresser had enough room to fit every stitch of clothing his entire family had owned; one drawer was sufficient for his belongings. The mirror took up almost an entire wall, and the carpet was soft as a still lagoon. Killian took a moment to question his parents for wanting to ever leave this place and had to remind himself sternly that a nice home could hardly make up for the evil and corruption of its owner.

He shook his head at the thought. You can't think like that, or at least show anyone that you think like that, he told himself sternly. He had a feeling that such a thought wouldn't be very popular within the castle.

Still, there was nothing outwardly sinister about the place; as a child, Killian had imagined a dank, dark palace of stone, with even the flickering light of a thousand torches being insufficient to dispel the dark shadows.

Awe soon gave way to boredom, however. The room was really too big and too fancy and pathetically uninteresting. Killian really wanted to go and explore the castle but was uncertain of whether that was permissible. He doubted it.

In the end, he spent his evening composing. He wrote two pieces for string quartette and a dance suite by the time the moon had risen and was no less bored.

Then, he couldn't sleep because the bed was too soft and too large and too squishy. He found he missed his hard bunk in the crew's quarters of his ship and the gentle rocking of the vessel on the waves. Being on land after being out at sea for so long had him feeling like a caged animal.

The Present

"So you learned to like the navy after all?" Emma inquired. "Even though it wasn't your first choice?"

Killian nodded thoughtfully. "I had my reservations about the navy for various reasons. I didn't want to copy my brother or, worse, my father. I didn't want to leave my loved ones behind or stop writing music. Then, of course, there was my experience working on a ship as a boy when I worked my way back home after my father left, which wasn't exactly pleasant. However, if I'd ignored all of that, perhaps it would have been my first choice. I'd always had my own fascination with ships."

The Past - 1805

The fisherman currently hiring Edward was ill, which was what started the whole adventure. Well, that and Christine.

Christine always had a wistful look when she looked out to sea. In hindsight, Killian could think of several reasons why. Perhaps it was because she longed to escape the city and find a place that held less danger or bad memories. Perhaps it was because she grew up by the sea, if a very different sort of sea, where she'd spent much of her childhood swimming and sitting on the seashore. Or perhaps she was simply transfixed by the way the light danced on the waves; Christine had always noticed that sort of thing.

"I don't like the idea of you going out to sea all alone." Christine bit her lip as she looked up at her husband.

Edward chuckled. "I appreciate the sentiment, my love, but I'm a grown man. I can take care of myself. Besides, I shan't go too far. I could swim to shore if something went wrong, which it won't." He placed a gentle kiss to Christine's forehead, which made her scowl and swat him away.

"Don't talk to me in that condescending tone," she scolded, but Killian could tell she wasn't angry, just disappointed. "I was merely suggesting..." she trailed off, cheeks faintly flushed.

"Yes?" Prompted Edward, confused.

Christine sighed, shooting Killian and Liam an exasperated look that made them both laugh.

"Well, it's been so long since I've been on a ship," Christine prompted.

Realization dawned on Edward's face. "Why didn't you just say so?"

"Because I didn't want to seem horribly needy," Christine frowned.

"You're the least needy person I have ever met," Edward promised. "But you may be disappointed. It's not a ship, love. It's a glorified boat at best, with just enough room for the four of us, I imagine."

"That's fine," his wife said quickly, eyes lighting up. She stood on her toes to peck her husband on the lips. "Thank you, darling. I knew you'd catch on eventually."

That was how the four of them ended up on the small sailboat that reeked of fish. Liam had been on it before. Christine had been on other boats and ships before. It was Killian's first time on a boat, though, since his family didn't travel, and he was too young for Edward to take him to work alone yet.

Liam scampered excitedly onto the boat after his father, already monologuing about navy facts to a family that was only half-listening. Killian hesitated before getting on. The boat was bobbing around on the waves and looked very unsteady. How was he supposed to get on when it kept moving?

"Want a hand?" Offered Christine, attentive as ever to the needs of her children.

Killian stubbornly shook his head, took a deep breath, and took a giant step out onto the boat, stumbling a bit inside but staying upright. Christine nodded in approval before hiking up her skirts to reveal her favourite worn, black boots and stepping into the boat herself. Only then did Edward steer them away from the docks.

It took approximately thirty seconds for Killian to fall in love. Salty spray flew into his face and settled on his lips in the best first kiss a man could receive, and the wind soon had his already unruly hair blowing around. It was pleasant for someone with short hair, but Killian didn't envy Christine, whose hair was already escaping its pins to fly across her face and bounce around her shoulders.

Curiously, Killian leaned over the side to look into the beautiful turquoise water. It was amazingly clear and the boat created only small waves, which allowed him to see rock formations, coral, and multi-coloured fish swimming through everything. On top of it all was the reflection of soft clouds as they drifted through the sky. It was like a different world.

"Killian, you're throwing us off-balance," Liam told him in his usual superior tone, pulling him away.

Killian shrugged off Liam's hand and scampered to his mother, who was sitting at the front of the boat with her eyes shut.

"Can we come with Papa again?" He demanded.

"I'm not sure, love. I hope so. You like it?" Asked Christine with a smile.

Killian nodded rapidly. Being on a boat was so different from watching the sea from the shore, perhaps in the same way that watching a dance and dancing are such different experiences. He felt powerful, like he was a sea animal instead of a little boy. He felt like he was part of the ocean, and what's more powerful than that? The ocean could swallow whole ships and drown men alive, but only when it was in the mood. His mother was like that, Killian realized.

"I love it," he affirmed with relish. "I wish we could stay here forever."

All at once, sadness passed over his mother's face. "I do too, love."

Killian looked at his mother in concern, and, all at once, her expression was back to one of gentle serenity.

"Do you know why I love ships, Killian?"

Killian shook his head as Edward corrected "boats, if you're talking about this little thing."

"Boats," Christine agreed, with an amused nod to her husband. "I love them because they're so safe."

Liam looked at his mother skeptically. "No, they aren't, Mama. Do you know how many ships have sunk just in-"

"No, sweetheart, you misunderstand me. Yes, you're at the mercy of the ocean, but the ocean is so much kinder than men. Few people can touch you while you're on the water, and you can go most anywhere, or escape most anyone. Sailing is freedom."

The three boys on the boat nodded solemnly in agreement.

Years passed and Killian spent most of them on a ship, but he never forgot his mother's words, nor did they ever stop being true. If anything, they only became more true. Freedom, power, kindness, escape, safety; Killian may have gone on to live over two hundred years, but he believed his mother had obtained more wisdom by far within thirty.

The Past - 1820

Another morning of boredom was blessedly interrupted by a long-awaited knock.

"Come in," Killian called, hastily trying to straighten the desk now strewn with papers.

Liam strode in with a broad grin on his face, still smelling refreshingly of salt and fresh ocean air.

"Congratulations, Lieutenant," he beamed, pulling his brother into a firm hug.

Killian grinned in return. "Couldn't let you best me forever, could I?"

"If only mother and father were here. Do you think it would shock them to think I'd made an honest man out of you?"

"If anyone made an honest man out of me, it was me," protested Killian. "Besides, I only ever became dishonest after mother died, and I haven't stolen for years!"

The thought of ever stealing was now a strange one to him, considering how hard he'd worked, even before Liam found him, to be able to support himself. If anything, stealing was a long-forgotten child's game born of desperation. As soon as he'd discovered that he could make money with his violin, he'd stopped. He'd never even considered stealing again, particularly when it could land him in prison and leave Lyanna on her own. The fact that his brother would even bring it up was mildly offensive to the young lieutenant, but what else were elder brothers for if not to embarrass their younger siblings?

"Still, you've moved up in the world," Liam said, patting his brother on the back. "I'm proud of you, little brother."

"Younger," Killian corrected. "I'm hardly 'little', anymore."

Liam gave him a skeptical look. "You'll always be little to me," he teased. "Besides, you're shorter."

"Hardly," Killian retorted. He'd given up hope of outgrowing his brother, both in terms of height and width; his brother had the same broader build of their father while Killian clearly did not.

"And tonight is your first royal ball, is it not?" Liam ignored his brother with his usual ease.

"You know it is," Killian said with a shrug. Only higher-ranked men in the navy or army received invitations to the king's balls.

"A new, young lieutenant; you'll have to beat the women off with a stick," Liam remarked wryly.

"I'll direct them to you, brother," Killian retorted with a smirk. Liam still had no romantic attachment that Killian was aware of and teasing him about it was only fair turnabout.

"Nervous?"

"For the women? No, not everyone possesses the same fear of them as you."

Liam shot his brother an amused look. "I meant for the ball, as you well know."

"No," Killian lied. He could never tell Liam his fears of meeting the king, the queen that had replaced his aunt, or, worse, seeing his grandfather. That would involve telling Liam things that would surely hurt him. The only thing that kept Killian's own conscience clear while serving in the navy was the knowledge that he was helping to defend the kingdom's people and maintain peace. He served the people rather than the king, at least in his mind, and he certainly didn't serve Lord Alasdair.

He feared Lord Alasdair most of all. Still, the man hadn't seen him for nearly thirteen years. He wouldn't recognize his grandson from two brief encounters, would he? Surely not.

"Well, that's a shame. If I'd known you weren't nervous, I wouldn't have needed to go to the trouble of inviting your fiancée," Liam commented.

Killian started. "What?"

"I suppose I could un-invite her, but then she'd have to return the gown I bought her as an early wedding present, which would be a shame," Liam paused, turning to his brother and grinning like a little boy offered sweets. The sight of Killian's face wiped his grin right off, however. "What's wrong?"

Automatically, Killian pasted a grin onto his face. "Nothing, that's wonderful! Thank you, Liam."

Contrary to what Liam may have believed, Killian had deliberately planned to go to the ball without Ciarra. It was not a matter of embarrassment or financial restriction, but simply a precaution. If Lord Alasdair did recognize him, Killian certainly didn't want him knowing about his few remaining loved ones. Liam was unavoidable, but Ciarra could stay safe.

Damn Liam and his good intentions, Killian thought despairingly as his brother chattered about his latest voyage.

Ciarra arrived several hours later in a flurry of smiles and kisses. After a brief greeting, Liam made his excuses and left them alone.

"I've missed you," Ciarra confessed some time later, tracing patterns across his arm as she lay next to her fiancé in the still far too large bed.

"And I you," Killian assured her, planting a kiss in her now extremely messy hair. The downside of actually being in the navy rather than just school was how little he got to see Ciarra nowadays.

"Sometimes I worry that I'll forget your face," Ciarra whispered, running her lips gently over the object in question. "I've forgotten my parents' by now, and I think I just have this irrational fear that if I forget your face, I'll never see you again. It's silly, I know, but I can't help it. Sometimes I stay up for hours just to make sure that I remember every detail of it, even when I know that, realistically, it will do nothing to keep you safe."

"You don't need to. I'll always come back," Killian promised, although he felt his stomach drop as he remembered how well his similar promise to Lyanna had worked out. You just need to stay alive while I'm gone, he added silently, although he was unable to voice his fears. They sounded foolish enough in his head without saying them aloud.

As if sensing his change in mood, Ciarra responded by hungrily meeting his lips with her own in a kiss that spoke of a mutual need for each other.

After some time, Ciarra pulled away from her fiancé with a thoughtful expression.

"Tonight, I think we need to find Liam a wife," she decided.

Killian looked at her in amazement. When he realized that she was serious, he started laughing helplessly.

"Seriously! The poor boy is far too honourable to go to brothels like his friends, I'm certain. He clearly is incapable of succeeding romantically without our intervention," Ciarra insisted. "And the time is flying by. The poor man is almost thirty!"

"Not really," Killian protested. "Besides, men often marry older than women. He may be leaving things a little longer than many, but-"

"Killian, he needs our help," Ciarra insisted.

"I'm not certain that he would appreciate it, whether it's needed or not. Besides, perhaps he has a lover that we're simply unaware of."

"Nonsense," Ciarra clucked. "Besides, we shan't tell him of our intervention. All I'm suggesting is that we find some likely looking romantic partners and attempt to get them to talk to him. You know that Liam will be all official business. Getting him to flirt would be like asking the clouds to rain honey; it simply isn't done. He needs our assistance. We need to find a woman who is equally romantically inept, desperate, or else romantically skilled enough to be able to handle all romantic interactions single-handedly."

Killian felt his jaw dropping further and further throughout Ciarra's speech. "Perhaps you're not giving him enough credit-"

"I'm a woman; I know these things. Liam has been exceedingly kind to me, and I know you admire and love him above anyone else, regardless of what you'd have me believe. At least make a discrete attempt to help him, for his sake. I'm not suggesting that we find a woman and drag him to a church tonight, only that we try to help him along a bit."

With a sigh, Killian nodded. "Alright, but only on the condition that he never hears of this conversation, even if he ends up happily married as a result. You have to swear. He'd never get past the shame."

Ciarra nodded earnestly, trying and failing to conceal her obvious delight. Killian shook his head. He hadn't thought that it would be possible to dread the coming night any more than he already did, but clearly he was wrong. However, on the other hand, perhaps a distraction might actually be useful. At any rate, it would keep him from constant paranoia surrounding Lord Alasdair.

He sighed. It was going to be a long night.

The Present

"What?"

Emma turned to her companion feeling like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar. "Nothing."

"You're laughing."

"No, I'm not!"

"Aye, not now, but you were."

"I was just thinking... your brother and you were very different, weren't you?" Emma chuckled, still trying and failing to imagine any relation of Hook's who wasn't skilled in the area of romance. She'd never met anyone who flirted as much as Hook, and she'd always imagined that his brother would be much the same.

Killian grinned. "Aye, a little bit. My brother was far too career-oriented to focus on frivolities such as romance without a bit of assistance. He was fine at it once he actually tried."

Emma nodded, still amused.

"So you found him someone, then?"

With a grimace, Killian replied, "Not exactly."

"What does that mean?" Emma protested.

"All in good time, Swan," Killian promised. "You asked to hear the whole story. I can hardly spoil something like this now."

"So, the ball?" Emma prompted impatiently.

Killian nodded. "Ah, yes..."