#Assassin's Creed: Misthaven | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

delightfully-difficult-pirate · 7 years ago

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Assasssin’s Creed: Misthaven (18/18)

Summary: For hundreds of years, the Brotherhood of Assassins and the Templar Order have waged war. For Princess Emma of Misthaven, that war has become personal. After a mission gone wrong, the Templar Grandmaster, placed a curse on Emma’s son that is slowly killing him. Emma will stop at nothing to save Henry, even if it means going rogue from the Brotherhood and consorting with pirates.

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic Violence, Sex, Adult Language.

AN: As this story comes to an end, I must thank all of those who made it possible” @preciouscucumber for being an ever patient and diligent beta. @cocohook38 and @utopiozphere for the awesome artwork they have created. @icecubelotr44 for her encouragement every step of the way and moderating the CSBB. Her co-moderator @phiralovesloki and her were very understanding about the issues I ran into when writing this fic; broken computers, depression, and two chapter 10′s.

And of course, to each and every person who commented, reblogged, liked, and shared this fic. All an author wants is for people to read and enjoy what they have written.

AO3

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Art1, Art2, Art3 for Chapter 18 by @cocohook38

Vomit spattered across the sand; a disgusting mix of seawater, bile, and small chunks of the bread and oats Killian had had for breakfast. The smell of it made Killian heave again and blood dripped from the wound in his side as his muscles seized.

Killian collapsed face first once his body was done expelling the contents of his stomach, as far from the mess he’d made as he could get. He groaned as he pressed his hand against Cormac’s parting shot. He could feel the bullet, so the wound wasn’t as deep as it could have been, but he would need to take care of it sooner rather than later.

Fighting against the vertigo, Killian forced himself to sit up and take stock of his situation. Glancing around, he saw that he was on a large beach, a forest behind him and the Smuggler’s Cove nowhere in sight.

How did I get here?

The thought flitted across Killian’s mind. He was too far up on the beach to have washed ashore, even if it had been high tide.

On edge, Killian reached for his sword, but his hand closed around nothing. He vaguely remembered being disarmed aboard the Morrigan and frowned; he’d liked that sword.

“May I borrow your coat?” A high voice asked.

Killian glanced over his shoulder in the direction the question had come from. His hand dug through his pockets in hopes of finding a throwing knife or something to use as a weapon.

A pale face framed by wet red hair poked out from behind a large rock, a shy smile on her face. Killian relaxed and returned her smile.

“Ariel,” he said as he slowly shrugged out of the waterlogged Templar coat. A flare of pain along his back reminded him of the sword wound he’d gotten during the fight with Cormac. “To what do I owe the pleasure of being rescued by the Queen of Vand?”

Killian tossed the coat behind him and kept his eye’s forward until Ariel kneeled next to him. A mermaid by birth, Ariel had fallen in love with Prince of Vand. She’d run afoul of Regina shortly after and the Queen had stripped her of her voice in punishment. Ariel’s search for a way to break the curse had taken her to Neverland, to consult with the mermaids of that realm. That was where Killian had met her, only a few months after his own arrival. They’d formed a tentative alliance for about a year, until Ariel had determined that Neverland didn’t have what she needed. He’d been glad to learn, upon returning from Neverland, that Ariel had somehow succeeded and married her Prince.

“Vand has a standing policy not to get involved in Templar and Assassin disputes,” she said. “But Snow White is a good friend of mine, so I have been keeping an eye on the situation. When I saw the Nautilus, I followed. I didn’t expect to find you floating in the wreckage of a Templar ship. I thought you’d left the Order after your brother’s death.” Ariel gave Killian a stern, yet inquisitive look.

“I did,” Killian answered. “I was… assisting the Brotherhood with getting through the blockade.” As Killian spoke, he tore the sleeves off his shirt. One he folded and pressed against the wound on his side. The other he wrapped around his torso and Ariel tied it over the makeshift bandage to hold it in place. The pain made Killian light headed and Ariel gave him a worried look as he laid backwards.

“We need to get you out of the sun.” Ariel grabbed Killian’s arm and helped him to his feet. Leaning heavily on the small woman, Killian stumbled the twenty or so feet to the edge of the forest. Ariel propped him up against the trunk of a tree. He hissed in pain as the bark dug into the wound on his back.

“Nemo has a surgeon aboard the Nautilus. Do you think you could… guide them here?” Killian asked.

Ariel’s eyes were wide as she nodded. “As fast as I can.”

Killian closed his eyes as Ariel removed the coat she had borrowed and laid it over him. He heard her run across the beach and then a splash as she returned to the ocean. He leaned his head against the tree behind him and fought against the urge to fall asleep. Between the blood loss and the afternoon sun, it was harder than anticipated.

Jerking awake after dozing off, Killian found the sun much lower in the sky. Almost dusk, if he gauged its position correctly. He squinted, hoping to see sign of the Nautilus. He was already feeling cold and sunset would mean a drastic drop in temperature. He didn’t think he had the strength to build a fire in the forest.

A flash of light caught Killian’s eye. Squinting, his heart jumped when he saw that it was the sun reflecting off the hull of the Nautilus. A long boat was making its way toward the beach, Captain Nemo at its front. Killian couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face.

Saved from death once again.

When the longboat reached the shore, Nemo jumped from the prow. He raised a hand in greeting as he made his way across the sand.

An arrow pierced through his shoulder.

“No!” Killian croaked.

A few brave sailors ran forward and grabbed their Captain, hauling him backwards toward the longboat. More arrows rained from the sky. One pierced a sailor through the thigh and he fell, screaming, to the beach. One of his compatriots picked him up and tossed him roughly into boat.

Killian sighed as he watched the sailors push the longboat off the beach and away from the sudden attack. He gripped the one knife he’d found tucked in the pockets of the Templar coat in his hand and waited for whoever was in the forest to come for him. Between it and his hook, he planned to do some damage before they took him out.

Footsteps came from his left.

When a leg appeared next to him, Killian hooked his arm behind it and jerked forward. The person fell with an oomph and Killian rolled on top of them. It took Killian only a second to recognize the man below him as a Templar and he buried him hook in the man’s neck.

Hands grasped Killian’s shoulders and yanked him back. He lashed out. The knife cut across the shins of the person next to him. A hiss of pain and then one of the legs came up to level a kick at the side of his head.

Killian’s vision went black.

---

“This is going to hurt,” was all the warning Killian got before one of his captors, Mulan, poured a liberal amount of his rum on the wound on his back. Killian hissed in pain and bit down on the bit of leather she had provided him just for that purpose. After, Mulan wiped softly across his back with a bit of boiled cloth.

“This needs to be closed,” she told him.

Unable to see his injury, Killian had no choice but to agree to her assessment. He spat out the leather and pushed out his arm, opening and closing his hand. His flask was placed in it and Killian took a hefty swallow before he passed it back to Mulan. He placed the leather back in his mouth and then gave her a nod.

Mulan went slowly, giving Killian time between each stitch to deal with the pain. It was during one quick break that another of the Templars that had captured him came up. It was Little John, one of the members of Robin Hood’s Merry Men. Killian had always gotten on well with the large man, when he had been a Templar. Now, the man looked at him as one usually did when staring at a pile of horse dung one just stepped in.

“Why are you bothering? Grandmaster Regina is only going to kill him,” he asked.

“Do you want to tell Regina that we captured one of the Assassin’s, but let him die before she could interrogate him?” Mulan retorted.

Little John snorted. “Jones here isn’t an Assassin. He was a Templar, years ago, before he betrayed the Order. There is a bounty on that bastard’s head.”

Killian forced himself to breath as Mulan applied another careful stitch as she replied. “I don’t care who his is. Our mission was to collect anyone who survived the battle at the cove, Templar or Assassin, and bring them to her.”

Another of the Templars, who Killian vaguely remembered to be called Alan-of-Dale, made a sound of disgust. “A waste of our talents.”

It was no challenge for Killian to imagine the exasperated look on Mulan’s face. In the short time since they had captured him, he had learned that Mulan did not fit in well with The Merry Men. Not because of her gender, no, but because she didn’t suffer fools. And without Robin to lead them, The Merry Men were no more than a group of Templar fools.

After an hour or so, by Killian’s estimate, Mulan was finished closing both of his major wounds. Afterwards, he was piled into the back of a wagon with two well-armed Templars as guards. Killian made himself as comfortable as he could, though the bounce of the wagon along the rough road irritated his wounds.

Killian made no attempts to escape from their custody. From Mulan and Little John’s conversation, he knew that they were taking him to Regina, who was at the castle of Misthaven. Which was exactly where Emma was heading and therefore, where he wanted to be.

They arrived at the castle after a day and a half on the road. As he was marched through the halls of the castle, Killian thought about how be could help Emma retake the castle. As long as Regina didn’t kill him on sight, of course. He knew he was far from fighting fit, but his wounds were healing clean.

Killian was so absorbed in his machinations that he didn’t notice Mulan on his left side. He jerked his arm back when she grabbed his brace, but she held it firm in her grasp. He gaped as she slipped a small knife between its straps. He was so shocked that he didn’t get a chance to ask what she was doing before she slipped away.

The guards outside a large double door stopped them and Killian turned his arm so that no one would notice the new accessory in his brace.

“The Merry Men are here to see the Grandmaster,” Little John informed them.

One of the guards tilted his head at Killian. “Aren’t you supposed to be dead?”

Killian rolled his eyes as he was escorted into Regina’s presence. He hoped the Queen could come up with a more original response to his reappearance.

She did not disappoint.

Queen Regina barely looked up from the map she was studying to instruct someone to tie him to one of the many columns in the room. Mulan did the honors, tying him at the elbows to accommodate his lack of hand. It wrenched his shoulders backwards, which exasperated the cut on his back, but it left his hand free to draw her hidden gift should he wish.

Little John laid his hook on the table in front of Regina and then the Merry Men were dismissed. Regina continued to study the map laid out in front of her. While she ignored him, Killian studied the Queen. It had been many years since he had last seen her during his revenge-driven murder spree. Back then, she’d favored riding outfits and spent as much time as she could on horseback. A far cry from the black leather, velvet, and feather get up she wore now. He wondered how many ravens had died to make the train of her coat.

Regina was close to Killian’s age, he knew, and the years had sharpened her features. Gone was the slight softness of her face. It had been replaced by sharp cheekbones and perfectly coifed hair that gleamed in the candlelight. She was nothing short of beautiful, much in the same way he consider a black viper pretty, despite its deadly venom.

“So the Princess is coming to retake the castle,” Killian heard Queen Regina mutter and his heart dropped.

Emma, he knew, had hoped to take the Templar Grandmaster by surprise. Without her magic, Emma knew she would need any advantage she could get if she had a hope of defeating the trespassing Queen.

Killian slipped the knife in his brace free and angled it toward the ropes that bound him. If he could get out of here, he could find Emma and warn her. Now that they were in Misthaven, they could come up with another plan to free her family from the castle.

Regina chuckled and Killian returned his attention to her as she approached him. He paused his efforts to escape so that she wouldn’t notice the movement. “Don’t look so surprised, Jones. I’ve known that Princess Emma was coming for some time now. Your ship,” Regina paused, giving him an arrogant grin before she continued, “Your former ship made port in Blanchard and its new Captain traded the information in return for my favor.”

Killian vowed to hunt down James and gut him like the yellow-bellied swine he was when this was all over.

With a twist of her wrist, his hook appeared in Regina’s hand. She laid the tip of it on his chest, just above his heart.

“Does she really think she can defeat me with only a handful of Assassins?” Regina asked as she pressed the sharp point of his hook into his flesh. Killian ignored the pain, and the question.

Regina smirked. “No matter. I have the upper hand. My sources tell me that the two of you grew quite close on your journey to Camelot and back.”

Killian clenched his teeth.

“What do you think the little Princess will do, when she finds out I have you as my captive?” Regina drew the tip of the hook down his chest, opening a shallow cut.

“With the lives of her parents and son hanging in the balance, and the fate of her Kingdom, do you really think she’ll sacrifice anything to save you?”

Regina had leaned in close to whisper her taught in his ear, so when she began to pull back, Killian snapped his head forward. His forehead collided with the Queen’s nose with a satisfying crack. It was short lived, however, for a moment later a sharp pain radiated through his chest. He looked down and the blood drained from his face when he saw that it wasn’t his hook imbedded in his chest, as he expected, but Regina’s hand.

She grinned at him as she yanked her hand out and held his heart up for him to see.

“Let’s find out, shall we?”

Fuck.

---

The next day, after spending a sleepless night in one of the castles guest rooms, Killian found himself once again tied to a column. The guard who tied him had been inexperienced at restraining someone with only one hand, so bindings were easy to cut with the knife Mulan had given him. Not that he thought his escape would do much good, since Regina had his heart, but he wanted the option open to him.

Around midmorning, based on the diffuse sunlight coming in through the windows, a guard came to report that bodies had been turning up across the castle. Most killed with single stab wounds.

Regina snapped the guard’s neck with a careless wave of her hand and the body fell at her feet. She reached within her ornate coat and pulled out a heart. “Come to the council room,” she said before slipping it back into a pocket.

Her heels click loudly on the stone floor as she crossed the length of the room to stand in front of Killian. “Do you know how many Assassin’s the Princess has with her?” she asked.

Killian stared solemnly ahead, ignoring her.

He gasped when he feels a sharp pain in his chest and he looks down to see his heart, red with liberal swirls of black, in her hand.

“I said, do you know how many Assassin’s the Princess has with her?”

“Yes,” Killian choked out.

“How many?”

Killian clenched his teeth, fighting the magical compulsion, but Regina only squeezed his heart tighter until he relented and gasped out “Twenty.”

Regina raised one perfectly shaped brow. “Twenty? I had no idea there were so many Assassin’s in Arandelle.”

James, Killian decided, must not have known enough about the Assassins and Templars to mention the Nautilus to Regina. If he had, he would have known that the ship’s presence in Arandelle would have been information of some value.

“How did she plan to get…” Regina started to say before she cut off. Her right arm snapped up and a dangerous smile spread across her face.

Killian turned his head to see one of the Assassin’s Emma had brought with her standing a couple paces away, frozen in place. Sara, he thought her name was.

Regina approached Sara and ran a nail down the woman’s terrified face. She shoved her other hand into Sara’s chest and pulled a bright red heart.

“You’re young,” Regina said as she studied the heart.

Then she crushed it in her fist.

Killian flinched when Sara’s body collapsed to the floor. Regina dropped the dust from her heart on top of her body. With a thoughtful look on her face, Regina pulled a heart from her pocket, one that did not have enough darkness to be his.

Regina marched over to a large mirror on the other side of the room. “Sydney, find me Graham,” she demanded.

Killian stared at Sara’s body and fought against his urge to pull his hidden knife and plunge the blade between Regina’s shoulder blades. He knew he wouldn’t get more than a couple of feet before his body joined the fallen assassin’s.

Absorbed with his inner battle, Killian almost missed the words that floated up from the mermaid shell around his neck.

“I love you, Killian Jones. I don’t know where you are, if you can hear me, or if you are even alive, but know that I love you.”

After confirming that Regina was still at the mirror, Killian pulled his hand free and brought the shell up to his lips.

“Emma, Regina knows you’re in the castle. She’s prepared for you.”

Killian dropped the shell and returned his arm to its previous location just as Regina turned from mirror.

“It seems the Princess has disabled my Huntsman,” Regina fumed as she crossed the room. She held the other heart from her pocket her hand. “Such a pity.”

Dust floated to the ground in front of her.

Killian wondered if somewhere in the castle, a person had just dropped to the ground, inexplicably dead.

Emma’s voice floated up from the shell again. “Killian, if you can still hear me, tap your foot,” she said.

Killian tapped his foot.

“If you can get free, tap your foot again.”

He tapped his foot again.

“If Regina has taken your heart, tap it again.”

Reluctantly, he tapped his foot again.

A colorful collection of curse words issued from the shell and Killian had to suppress his grin.

Regina was pouring a glass of wine from the decanter on the table when Emma stepped out from behind one of the room’s pillars. She rushed forward, her sword pointed aimed at Regina’s back. Regina sidestepped at the last moment, avoiding a killing blow, but Emma redirected her strike to score a long cut across the Queen’s upper arm.

Regina scowled at the wound before waving her hand over it. When the purple smoke cleared, her flesh showed no sign of the injury.

“Princess,” Regina greeted Emma.

Killian’s heart beat loudly in his chest. Emma looked pale and had dark circles under her eyes. Her blonde hair was braided in a crown around her head and her waistcoat was splattered with blood.

“It’s over, Regina. All your men are dead.”

Regina’s laugh echoed off the stone of the room. A fireball formed in her hand.

“Do you really think I need those worthless solders to keep this castle?”

Emma summersaulted under the path of the fireball when Regina threw it at her. She came out of her crouch with her sword aimed at Regina’s legs, but the Queen had transported herself out of the way in a puff of smoke. She reappeared a few feet away, another fireball burning in her hand.

A rush of wind moved through the room and the fireball sputtered out.

Regina blinked down at her hand. Her fingers flexed as she tried to summon another fireball, but none appeared. Regina glared at Emma, and then smirked as she reached into her coat and pulled out Killian’s heart.

“Hold, Princess, or your lover dies.”

Emma froze. Her eyes met Killian’s over Regina’s shoulder and he gave her a small nod.

“I must say, I was rather disappointed when I’d heard you’d taken up with a pirate. It was bad enough, your mother marry that worthless shepherd. Perhaps a taste for low-bred men runs in the family? Remind me again who the father of your bastard is?” Regina taunted Emma as she made a show of inspecting Killian’s heart.

Killian sneaked forward in a crouch as quietly as he could, Mulan’s knife gripped lightly in his hand. When he was close enough, he stood and laid the blade along Regina’s throat. He pressed it against her skin just hard enough to draw a few drops of blood.

“She’s all yours, love,” Killian said.

Emma nodded and stepped forward, the hidden blade on her right arm extended. But just before she could strike the killing blow, Killian was flung backwards. His back hit one of the columns and he had to fight to remain conscious as darkness overwhelmed his vision.

“Killian!” He heard Emma scream.

He lifted his head. Emma was kneeling on the ground, blood dripping from a wound on her forehead. Regina stood a few feet away, a fireball dancing on her fingertips.

“Was that it? Your big plan to take me out?” Regina asked. “Rid me of my magic and stick a knife in me?”

Aziz appeared at Killian’s side. The young man helped Killian to his feet and tried to get him to move, but Killian shoved him off. “Help Emma!” He yelled as he leaned his body against the wall. Aziz rolled his eyes before moving to follow his command. Aziz rushed forward at the same time as another Assassin, which Killian recognized as Emma’s friend from Alexandria, Red, attacked from Regina’s other side.

Regina flung both her hands out. Both Red and Aziz froze on the spot. With a satisfied grin, Regina stepped forward and grabbed Emma by the hair, forcing her head up. She held Killian’s heart in front of her face and slowly began to squeeze.

“Watch, Princess, as your friends die,” Regina sneered. “All because of you.”

Killian fell to his knees and screamed as a sharp pain radiated through his chest.

“No!” Emma screamed. “Take my heart instead!”

Regina stared at Emma, her head tilted in thought. After a moment, the pain in Killian’s chest lessened.

“No, Emma,” Killian croaked. He tried to stand, to make his way to Emma. “No!”

Emma glanced in Killian’s direction and gave him a sad smile. Then she took a deep breath and plunged her own hand into her chest. She pulled it out, her heart a beautiful dark red with swirls of black, and held it out to Regina.

An arrow came out of nowhere and pierced through Regina’s hand.

A moment later, a small silver bean landed between Emma and Regina. A portal began to form just as the first drop of Regina’s blood fell.

Not wasting her chance, Emma reached out and grabbed Killian’s heart from Regina’s hand. She flung her body as far from the portal as she could. She let go of the hearts in her hands and they rolled across the stone floor as Emma’s legs descended into the portal.

Mustering all the strength he had, Killian dashed forward. He grabbed Emma’s arm at the same time as a small woman with dark hair and a quiver on her back grabbed the other. Together, they pulled until they had Emma clear of the portal. The dark haired woman gathered Emma into her arms and hugged her tight. With their two faces to close together, Killian could see the physical resemblance between the two. Emma was safe with her mother, so Killian turned his attention to Regina.

The Queen’s hands scrambled for a hold on the edge of the portal. No one in the room moved as the portal started to shrink.

“This isn’t over!” Regina screamed as the portal closed in around her.

Red approached and looked directly in Regina’s eyes. “Yes, your majesty, it is.”

The portal closed.

Killian collapsed onto his back and breathed a sigh of relief. Before he could take the time to process the fact that Regina was gone, Emma flung herself upon him.

“What are you even doing here?” She exclaimed as she covered his face with kisses.

Killian laughed and wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. “It’s a long story, love,” he told her. He buried his face in her hair and took a deep breath.

Someone coughed and Killian and Emma both looked up to find her mother standing over them. In her hands, she held two hearts. Emma sat up and took the hearts from her mother.

Side by side, the two hearts were nearly identical. Each pulsed a bright red but had liberal swirls of black.

“I…don’t know which is which,” Emma said, wide-eyed.

Killian sat up and reached out to close his hands over Emma’s own, covering the two hearts.

“It doesn’t matter. My heart belongs to you.”

---

A week after defeating Regina, Emma stood on the same spot where she had offered the Queen her heart and prepared the spell that would break the curse on Henry. She and Belle had spent the better part of the day preparing the potion that now sat in a large cast iron brazier. Emma lowered the end of a burning candle into the bowl and softly blew on the small flames until all the wood caught fire. The scent of pine filled the room.

“Once we add the blood and the fire has burned down, Henry has to drink the potion, right?” Emma asked Belle.

The royal librarian had an exasperated look on her face when she answered. “For the fifth time, yes.”

Emma heard Killian’s badly disguised chuckle and shot a glare in his direction. He, her parents, and Henry had gathered on the far side of the room to watch the proceedings. Red stood some distance away with Rumpelstiltskin, who had arrived from Arandelle that morning aboard the Narwhal.

Emma picked up a small dagger and slid the blade across her palm, creating a cut almost identical to the one she had given herself at Jenny’s graveside. Blood filled the wound and Emma moved to hold her hand over the burning brazier. The fire hissed as her blood dripped into the flames and the smell of copper overwhelmed the room. Belle’s nose wrinkled in distaste as she cleaned the blade of the dagger.

Belle indicated that Red should bring the sorcerer forward and Red gave the man a hard shove between the shoulder blades. He glared at her, but Red just smiled. Once he was next to the brazier, the Dark One lifted his arms and shook the squid-ink manacles that still bound his wrists.

As Emma unlocked the cuffs, she saw Killian’s fist tighten on the hilt of the magical dagger that controlled the sorcerer. He would only use its magic if Rumpelstiltskin tried to flee before completing his part of the spell to free Henry from Regina’s curse.

However, Rumpelstiltskin held out his hand and allowed Belle to cut across it. Because his unnaturally dark blood was slow to flow, so Belle had him open and close his hand as he held it over the brazier. Finally, a couple of drops fell into the flames.

The fire tripled in size, forcing Emma to take a step back. When it subsided, all that was left in the brazier was the small clay bowl Emma had placed amongst the wood at the beginning of the spell.

“Was that it?” Rumpelstiltskin asked as one of Red secured the manacles around his wrists. She would see that he was safely returned to the dungeon.

Emma pulled the bowl from the ashes, surprised to find it cool to the touch. Small bits of herbs floated on the top of the potion it contained.

“Henry,” Emma called, beckoning her son forward. She wrapped her arm around his shoulder as she handed him the bowl. “I doubt this is going to taste pleasant.”

Henry sniffed the concoction. “It smells like cinnamon.” He brought the bowl to his lips and quickly drank its contents. His face scrunched up and he coughed. A shiver moved through his body.

“Gross,” he exclaimed. He stuck out his tongue and Emma couldn’t suppress a small laugh at his youthful antics.

“How do we know if it worked?” Snow White asked from where she and David had watched the spellcasting.

Emma looked to Belle, who studied the book in which they had found the spell. “Once we undo the spell that is binding Henry to Emma’s magic, he should be able to tell us.”

Emma took a deep breath before removing the rose necklace she had worn for the past few years. Once the spell between the two of them was broken, there would be no going back. If they had managed to break the curse, Henry would be able to live a long and healthy life. If they hadn’t…

Henry would die.

Emma pulled her son into her arms. She kissed the top of his head as she muttered I love you over and over again against his hair.

“Mom,” Henry whined after a minute.

“Okay, okay,” she said, letting him go. She laid the golden rose in her still bleeding palm and closed her hand over it. Eyes closed, she mentally reached out and found the small bit of her magic that was housed in the charm, connected to her by a small, glowing thread. She slowly pulled on that thread drew her magic back into herself.

When the final bit of magic left the charm, the spell broke.

She opened her eyes and saw that Henry was grinning ear to ear.

“It worked!” He yelled, jumping up and down. “I feel… I feel amazing!”

Henry threw his arms around her stomach for a quick hug before running over to his grandparents. Emma swayed on her feet. A leather-clad arm wrapped around her waist to steady her.

“You alright, love?” Killian asked. His face was pinched in worry.

Emma leaned into his embrace.

“I’m fine,” she told him. “Just… overwhelmed, I think.”

Killian chuckled and looked over at where Henry was begging his grandfather to spar with him. “Understandable. You’ve saved your son and your kingdom from a dreadful woman’s revenge. I think it’ll take some time to process it all.”

Emma frowned at the mention of Regina. Though it had been over a week since the Queen had been defeated, Emma had yet to figure out where the magic bean that had opened the portal had come from. She has spoken to everyone who had been in the council chamber at the time but no one had had any idea.

“She’s not coming back, love,” Killian whispered. Emma looked up at him and allowed herself a moment to get lost in the love that shone in his eyes. “Regina is gone and she cannot hurt you or your family ever again.”

Emma pitched her voice low so that her parent’s and son did not hear her reply, “But she is still alive and we don’t know where she is! She could get hold of bean, or some other way to travel realms and come back!”

Belle, however, was standing within earshot. She closed the spell book she had still been reading and closed her eyes for a moment, before saying, “It was me.”

Killian and Emma turned in unison toward the librarian, Emma’s mouth agape and Killian’s eyebrows high on his forehead.

“And trust me, she won’t be coming back. I sent her to the land without magic.”

Emma blinked a couple of times before asking, “Where did you get a magic bean?”

Belle sighed. “I’ve had it for years. I… stole it, from my husband. Just before I left him.”

Emma stared at Belle in shock. The royal librarian had been in Misthaven for nearly ten years and had never once mentioned having been married.

“My father needed money to fight off the ogres attacking our kingdom, so he arranged for me to marry Gaston, the prince of a rich neighboring kingdom in exchange for gold.” Belle busied herself cleaning up the supplies they’d used to cast break Regina’s curse as she talked. “He was a cruel, disgusting man. So I stole the bean from his kingdom’s treasury and ran away. I had intended to use it if he ever found me.”

Killian nodded in appreciation. He’d come to like Belle in the short time he’d been in Misthaven. He’d spent the first few days after the battle with Regina on forced bedrest due to his collection of injuries. Emma had arranged for her to bring him a number of books to read while he was convalescing. “He never has?”

Belle smiled. “Gaston had me declared dead and found himself a bride much more to his taste within six months of my departure. I doubt he even remembers me by now.”

“Belle… I had no idea,” Emma said.

Her friend shrugged. “We all have things in our past we would rather forget. I’d much rather concentrate on my future.”

On that, Emma had no problem agreeing. She leaned her head on Killian’s chest as she watched her son and parents.

“That sounds like a great idea.”

#Captain Swan #CSBB #Assassin's Creed: Misthaven #CS FF #CS AU #AC:M

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delightfully-difficult-pirate · 7 years ago

Text

Assassin’s Creed: Misthaven (9/18)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic Violence, Sex, Adult Language.

AN: A special thank you to @preciouscucumber for being an ever patient and diligent beta. To @cocohook38 and @utopiozphere for the awesome artwork they have created. And to @icecubelotr44 for her encouragement every step of the way.

AO3

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Art1 for Chapter 9 by @cocohook38

Art2 for Chapter 9 by @utopiozphere

Though Emma’s mind was still reeling from all that had happened in the last 24 hours, she was able ignore all the new information long enough to force herself to get some sleep. She woke around midday, feeling restored.

First on her agenda was arranging to speak with August, in a secure location. Emma had realized while watching for Hook the night before that she had left Geppetto’s Tisanes without the invitation that August had procured for her. In addition, she wasn’t entirely confident that August would be willing to hand it over now that he knew that she intended to go after Rumpelstiltskin, Court Sorcerer and rumored Dark One.

When Emma ventured downstairs, Logan informed her that Starkey and Hook at gone to visit Scarlet at The Rabbit Hole.

“Logan, I have a task for you. Can you deliver this letter?” Emma asked. She held up a letter she had written to August that bore her Assassin’s seal. “It goes to a man named Pinocchio, at a shop called Geppetto’s Tisanes.”

Logan nodded enthusiastically. Except for last night’s activity, Emma figured he’d been bored hanging about the inn while she, Hook, and Starkey had been busy planning for the mission.

“Afterwards, please tell the Captain and Starkey that if I do not return by nightfall to seek me at this address.” Emma handed Logan a scrap of paper on which she had written the location of the Assassin safe house to which she had invited August so that they might talk in privacy. The house would also allow her better options for an escape than August’s secure room below his shop, should things go badly.

“Right away, Swan,” Logan said, and immediately headed straight for the exit.

Emma smiled to herself, marveling at how much she had grown to trust not only Hook and Starkey, but also many of the men on The Jolly Roger’s crew. Per Assassin protocol, she had written her letter to August in one of the Brotherhood’s many codes, but she knew that it was unneeded. - Logan would deliver the letter with seal intact and untampered with.

On her way out of the inn, Emma made sure to say goodbye to the dozen or so men of Hook’s crew that would be leaving Camelot that evening. They would leave the city with the farmers after the marketplaces closed and ride along the road that lead back to Hedges Run. Most of the crew would camp out along the road and join her, Hook, Starkey, and Logan as they transported Rumpelstiltskin to provide backup if they were pursued. A few would continue on to Hedges Run and alert The Jolly Roger that they would be returning soon and that the ship would need to be ready for a hasty departure.

Because it would take some time for her letter to be delivered and August to make his way to the safe house, Emma took some time to visit a store in the marketplace called Noctua’s Nest. To a regular shopper, it would look like nothing more than a curio shop, but the presence of a dreamcatcher in the window told all spell casters otherwise.

A bell rang when she entered the shop and the elderly woman behind the counter looked up from where she was sorting a collection of seashells.

“Afternoon m’lady,” the proprietor said, smiling in a way that reminded Emma of her mother. “How may I assist you?”

“Do you have any preservation potions for sale? Or the ingredients to make one?” Emma asked. One thing she intended to acquire tomorrow was the Middlemist flower that Henry had requested. Though he had said he would be happy even with just a pressing, Emma wanted to give him something more. A simple preservation potion would prolong the flower’s beauty indefinitely.

The old woman clucked her tongue. “That depends on what you need to preserve, m’lady, and how large it is.”

“Only a flower, as a gift,” Emma replied, eyeing the various knickknacks scattered about the shop. There was a large silver mirror in one corner that made her shiver, remembering the tales her parent’s had told her about how Queen Regina used mirrors to spy on and trick her enemies.

“Going to find one of Camelot’s lovely Middlemist roses are you? That’s a fine gift,” the woman said. She shuffled through a selection of small bottles.

“Here,” she said at last, placing a small bottle full of purple liquid on the counter. “This should do you well.”

Emma lifted it up to the light of one of the shop’s lamps, watching as the potion began to sparkle in response. Satisfied, she set it back on the counter.

“How much?” Emma asked.

“Four shillings, m’lady.”

Using information vaguely recalled from an old meeting about trade rights, Emma estimated the equivalent value of the silver reales she carried and handed over two from her purse. The old woman grinned, which made Emma believe that she had overpaid. As long as the potion worked, Emma didn’t care.

As Emma tucked the potion into one of her pockets, her eye was caught by a bottle on one of the shelves behind the counter that contained a dark, familiar fluid.

“I don’t supposed you have any squid ink on hand at the moment?” She asked, cautiously.

The elderly woman frowned. “What would a nice woman such as yourself want with something like that?”

Emma shrugged in response. Her business was her own, after all.

With a sigh, the woman replied, “I happen have some.” She turned and removed the small bottle that had caught Emma’s eye from its place on the shelf, setting it on the counter between the two of them.

“Ten shillings an ounce.”

“And for the entire bottle?”

The old woman blinked, surprised. “Fifty shillings, or two and a half pounds.”

Emma didn’t hesitate as she laid down three silver pieces of eight, which she estimated to be close to the stated price.

Again, the old woman sighed, but passed the bottle over.

When Emma was turning to leave, the proprietor reached over the counter and grabbed Emma’s arm with a surprisingly strong grip.

“Take these, m’lady,” the old woman said seriously, and pressed a cloth-wrapped bundle into Emma’s hand. “May they keep you safe.”

“Ahh, thank you,” Emma said, confused, tucking the bundle into her pocket with her purchases and leaving the shop.

Emma unwrapped the bundle when she reached the safehouse where she would meet with August. Inside were two small conch shells strung on leather cords, obviously meant to be worn. Good luck charms, perhaps. But why two? she wondered.

The whistle of the kettle on the fire interrupted her study of the necklaces and Emma went about preparing some of the tea she had found in the house’s kitchen in preparation for August’s arrival. It wouldn’t be as good as what he served in his shop, but it would do.

Not long after, August arrived, entering the small house through the back door. He was dressed casually, but Emma could see the leather of his vambraces at his wrists and the hilt of a dagger hanging from his belt.

“Emma, you can’t abduct Rumpelstiltskin. It would throw Arthur’s court into chaos!” August exclaimed without prologue, ignoring the tea she had set out.

“From what I hear, his presence here has been nothing but a strain on the court. Surely his absence will actually help restore the Kingdom to some balance,” Emma argued.

August glared at her. “That is beside the point, and not for you to decide even if it weren’t. You can’t just kidnap a member of the royal court!”

“I can and I will, August. Though technically, I should kill him. Or have you forgotten that the Brotherhood wants Robert Gold dead?”

Given the way August stared at her after that statement, he had.

“So you have two options. Either let me abduct Rumpelstiltskin, or follow the Brotherhood’s wishes and kill him yourself.”

August’s face fell in despair and Emma’s heart broke for him. She didn’t like giving August an ultimatum, pitting his loyalty to the Brotherhood against his friendship with her, but it was the best card she had to play.

“Emma, what has happened to you?” August asked at last, quietly.

Emma scowled and answered harshly, “I’m a mother, August. There is nothing I would not do to save my son.”

---

After August left, Emma sprawled across the settee in the parlor, seized a pillow, and screamed her frustrations into it. Her self-indulgent release of anger was interrupted, however, when she heard footsteps coming from the other room. She had pulled and was aiming a throwing knife when she recognized the black leather-clad figure leaning against the doorframe that lead to the kitchen.

“How long have you been there?” Emma huffed as she collapsed back onto the settee.

Hook smirked. “Long enough to know that you are a lioness among men and woe be to all who dare get in your way.” He pulled his flask from the pocket of his coat and held it out to her, then nudged her feet. She moved them, making space on the settee for him to sit, and accepted the flask.

The rum was spicy and full of flavor, but stronger than she had anticipated. It burned its way down her throat and Emma had to keep herself from coughing as she handed the flask back to Hook.

“Thank you,” she muttered as she rested against the back of the settee. Annoyed as she was that Hook had apparently ignored the “if I don’t return before nightfall” part of her instructions, she actually found herself pleased to have his company after the stressful meeting with August.

“So it sounds like your friend won’t be interfering with our plans tomorrow night,” Hook said, and took a sip from his flask.

Emma hummed her assent, and let out a sharp little laugh. “I would have left him tied up in the basement if he didn’t agree to my terms.”

The settee shook from the force of Hook’s laughter. “Lioness, as I said. You’re absolutely beautiful when you’re angry, did you know?” he said, wiping tears from his eyes.

Emma felt a blush rise to her cheeks. Many people had called her beautiful in her life, but few with the passion and sincerity in which Hook did. Words were too difficult, and she just leaned her head onto his shoulder instead. Instantly, his arm came up and around, tugging her closer to his side.

After a moment, Hook spoke quietly. “After I lost my brother, Liam, I was complete mess. I had one goal in mind and that was revenge on the Templar Order. Now, the crew of The Jewel of the Realm, as The Jolly Roger was originally named, were mostly Templars as well. And not all of them were in agreement with my taking command of the vessel and turning to piracy.”

Hook rubbed at the tense muscles of Emma’s shoulders and continued, “I didn’t care. Avenging Liam’s death was all that mattered. Most of the men who wouldn’t abandon the Order were content to leave the ship and let the rest of us do as we would. However, a few weren’t. They were good men. Men with wives, children, families. I challenged them all to try to beat me at the sword, to take command of The Jolly Roger from me. One by one, they did. And I killed them.”

Emma turned her head to stare at Hook, who had a faraway look on his face “I did horrific things on my quest to destroy those who had betrayed my brother and me,” he admitted. “Same after I lost Milah. But you know what? I can’t bring myself to regret my actions. Because despite the fact that I may have damned my soul, I rid the world of evil men.”

“We work in the dark to serve the light,” Emma whispered, reciting the motto of the Assassin Brotherhood.

“What I guess I’m trying to say, Swan, is that though you may feel like you’re doing all the wrong things, you’re not. You’re doing exactly what you believe needs to be done,” Hook finished, resting his head up top of hers.

“Emma,” she whispered in response.

Hook’s head lifted and Emma could see the crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes crinkle as he stared at her.

“My name is Emma.”

---

Emma.

A lovely name, for an even lovelier woman.

Not just lovely, but also extraordinarily strong and fierce, willing to risk everything to save the life of her child.

And Killian had to admit, he was falling more than a little in love with her.

Which was problematic.

Killian knew that Emma was far out of his reach. Her speech, her mannerisms, and her access to the thousand gold doubloons she had promised him all pointed to her being of noble birth. Furthermore, she was an Assassin, regardless how rocky her relationship with the Brotherhood currently was.

And him? A former Templar turned pirate. A one-handed pirate, at that.

He was unworthy of her.

And yet…

Yet, at that moment, Killian wanted nothing more than to be worthy of her.

Unsure of how to respond, but knowing he needed to show her that he understood how important it was that she had shared her name with him, Killian reached down with his hook and used it to lift her hands to his lips. “It is a pleasure to meet you Emma. Captain Killian Jones, at your service.”

Emma laughed; he marveled at her smile.

“The pleasure is all mine, Captain Jones,” she replied, her tone light.

Killian knew that if he leaned over and kissed Emma, she wouldn’t resist: if he so wished, he would be able to spend another wonderful few hours exploring her sumptuous body.

He didn’t, though. The companionable, yet still intimate atmosphere somehow meant much more than would mere sex. So instead, he pulled her closer to his side and shared a tale of one of his run-ins with Captain Edward Kenway.

Emma was dozing in his arms when Killian noticed that the sun was beginning to set.

“Come along, love. We should be getting back,” Killian said, and gave Emma’s shoulder a nudge.

She jerked lightly at being woken and an elbow jabbed into his ribs. “Sorry,” she murmured, rubbing her face, then looked out the window and frowned. “Damnit. Henry requested I bring him one of the region’s Middlemist flowers. I intended to visit one of the local fields this afternoon.”

“We should still have time,” he said, pulling Emma to her feet.

“We?”

Killian stopped, suddenly unsure of himself, but one look at the coy grin on Emma’s face restored his confidence.

“Please allow me the pleasure of escorting you this evening, oh beautiful Emma,” Killian said with an elaborate bow.

Emma broke into laughter again, and then looped her arm through his proffered elbow. Together, they set out.

---

There was field of Middlemist flowers a short walk from the western edge of the town. Middlemist, Emma was surprised to learn, was a beautiful rose of soft pink.

“Local legends says that the first Middlemist flowers were planted by Nimue. Before, they had grown only in her home village, but it was destroyed by a warlord named Vortigan,” Killian told her as she knelt in the long grass of the field.

“How do you know that?” Emma asked as she brushed her fingers along the petals of one of the roses, admiring at how soft they were.

“I like to read,” was all he said, a creak of leather telling Emma that he had also shrugged. Emma remembered the books in Killian’s cabin on The Jolly Roger and was unsurprised that he had known what seemed like an obscure bit of history.

Using her knife, Emma cut the stems of a couple of roses. Once back at the inn, she would decide which of them to preserve for Henry.

Killian had a small on his face when she stood and walked back toward him.

“What?” Emma asked, perplexed.

“I was just thinking how lucky your lad is to have a mother like you, love,” Killian said, offering her his arm.

Emma turning her face away, guilt overwhelming her. Killian’s compliments were always so genuine, and it hurt to know that he viewed her so differently than she viewed herself.

Killian, seeing her reaction, gently turned her face back toward his with his hook. “I’m serious, Emma. Few people are willing to go to the lengths you have to save another person. Even their own children.”

Emma closed her eyes, her heart pained at the emotion in Killian’s own eyes. “It’s my fault he’s cursed,” she whispered. “If I hadn’t gone on that mission, hadn’t allowed it to go so wrong, Henry wouldn’t be suffering.”

Killian pulled Emma into his arms. “It’s Regina’s fault, love, no one else’s,” he murmured into her hair. “And once you save your son, which you will, you can go show that Templar wench what a mistake she made.”

---

Emma and Killian returned to the inn just as dinner was about to end. Killian rushed off to secure them two plates while Emma joined Starkey and Logan at their table. As she sat, Emma noticed Logan pointedly looking at the roses in her hands. He then flicked his eyes towards Killian, clearly asking whether they were from the Captain. Emma shook her head and Logan rolled his eyes in response.

She wasn’t sure how many of the crew had picked up on the growing closeness between herself and their Captain, but Logan obviously had. He also apparently found his Captain’s lack of flower-giving amusing.

“Will your Assassin brethren be causing us any problems?” Starkey asked. Apparently he was oblivious to the silent conversation she and Logan had just had. Or perhaps he just didn’t care about the provenance of the Middlemist flowers she carried.

“He shouldn’t, no,” Emma answered. August had promised not to impede her goal in any way. With much more reluctance, he had also sworn not to inform the Brotherhood of her location or actions. However, he had warned her that he would not lie to them when they inevitably came asking questions.

Killian soon joined the three of them, skillfully balancing two bowls and a plate of bread. Dinner was a hearty stew, thick with potatoes and other vegetables.

Once she had had her fill, Emma thanked the Captain for dinner, bid the men a good night, and returned to her room. By the light of a lantern, she studied the Middlemist roses she had picked. All three were beautiful and nearly perfect, so she chose the one that seemed to be the freshest bloom to preserve for Henry.

Emma poured half of the potion she had purchased earlier in the day over the flower, feeling the tingle of magic as it was absorbed. Carefully, she bent one of the petals. If she found the petal undamaged in the morning, she would know that the potion had worked.

Though it was early, Emma opted to turn in. Tomorrow would be a long day, followed by an even longer night and she knew she would need all the rest she could get.

---

Emma woke early the next morning with a nervous stomach. Given the task ahead of her, it would be no surprise for an amateur to have the willies: but she had never been prone to nerves before a mission so it was disquieting. Her unsettled stomach persisted through breakfast, which she only picked at. Killian gave her a questioning look, which she deliberately ignored.

Claiming she needed time to pack, Emma returned to her room after breakfast. Lifting the Middlemist flower she had treated the night before from her bedside, she was pleased to see that the petal showed no sign of damage. Even so, she treated it gently as she packed it away in her travel bag.

Eyeing the remaining half of the potion, Emma wondered if it would be enough to preserve a second flower. Deciding it was worth trying, she selected another of the roses and poured the remaining potion over it. She packed it away with the other, musing on whether she might find a use for it someday.

A knock came on her door around early afternoon. “Come in,” Emma called, assuming it was Killian.

“So this is the woman who has come to rid us of Rumpelstiltskin,” a high voice said from behind her.

Emma pulled a knife and spun toward the unexpected visitor. It was a woman, wearing a lovely, yet simple dress of dark red. Her pale blond hair was piled up top her head in a large bun, bound with a red ribbon that matched her dress. She didn’t appear to be a threat, but Emma wasn’t taking any chances.

The woman held up her hands, and spoke softly, “Peace, my lady. I mean you no harm.”

“Then who are you and why are you here?” Emma inquired sharply, not lowering her raised knife.

The mysterious woman smiled and held out her hand in greeting. “I am Anastasia, Will Scarlet’s wife. And you, my dear, are Princess Emma of Misthaven.”

Emma lunged, but found herself moving no more than a foot before being frozen by an unseen force. Magic, not her own, brushed along her skin. It didn’t hurt, but it was an uncomfortable feeling. The unwelcome visitor entered the room, carefully closing and locking the door behind her.

“Assassins, always attacking first,” Anastasia complained as sat on the bed. She casually waved her hand and Emma felt the spell restricting her movements lift. She shivered. Suspicious though a woman claiming to be Scarlet’s wife may be, Emma decided against trying to attack her again.

“How do you know who I am?” Emma asked. She watched the woman’s face for any hint of a lie when she answered.

“We met, once, around fifteen years ago or so. You attended some royal function in Briar at the same time as my late husband and I,” Anastasia explained.

Emma studied the woman, trying to remember having seen her before. Anastasia was lovely, with high cheekbones and plump lips, and she exuded an air of confidence that few could match. She must have been close to Scarlet in age, but she looked as young as Emma herself.

All of it, especially the casual “late husband” remark, teased at Emma’s memories. Eventually, an image of the woman before her dressed is a long, glittering red dress with a feather collar formed in her mind.

“You’re the Red Queen,” Emma breathed, vaguely remembering the night in question. Briar had thrown an ostentatious party to celebrate Prince Phillip’s tenth birthday. She remembered her parent’s frantic whispers when Lord Stanford and his wife had been announced as guests. They were known Templars and her parents had been worried what their attendance meant, but Emma had only admired the woman’s grace. At thirteen, Emma had been all knobby knees and elbows, unsure of where to put her feet when dancing. The Lord’s wife had exemplified all Emma had wished herself to be.

“But now you’re married to a thief? Living a commoner’s life in Camelot?” Emma asked, unbelieving.

“Hardly a commoner’s life, I assure you,” Anastasia scoffed. “But what would it matter? I love Will, regardless of money or station.” The smile on the older woman’s face spoke volumes of her love for the unruly thief.

“So, why are you here?” Emma asked as she placed the knife back in its sheath.

“Will thought you would appreciate another woman’s help to get ready for the ball. He has no idea of your real identity, I assure you,” Anastasia explained.

Emma nodded, appreciating the thief’s thoughtfulness, if not his apparent tendency to share other people’s sensitive information with his wife.

Anastasia stood, her eyes sharp on Emma’s admittedly travel-worn clothes. “You’ll need a bath, first and foremost. Let’s do this the easy way,” the woman said, amused: and with a wave of her hand, a copper tub full of steaming water appeared in the room.

Within a few minutes, Emma found herself stripped and bullied into the tub with orders to scrub herself clean. Meanwhile, Anastasia went to go see whether the gown Emma was to wear that evening had arrived from the tailors.

The hot water of the bath was soothing and managed to calm the nerves that had been plaguing Emma all day. After her bath, with her hair and skin thoroughly cleaned, Emma felt more like herself than she had since leaving Misthaven.

When Anastasia returned, she brought with her a young woman, whom she introduced as the tailor’s apprentice, and a resplendent gown of red silk.

“We added some pockets, as requested,” the apprentice said as she and Anastasia helped Emma into the dress. It fit well, and once the apprentice left to go ensure that Killian had no issues with his new clothing, Emma tucked various knives, darts, and the vial of squid ink into the new pockets.

When Emma asked Anastasia to assist with securing one of her vambraces to her left leg, the woman laughed. “How creative. What about the other?” Anastasia asked as she watched Emma test the fit.

“Hook will be wearing it,” Emma replied. Anastasia nodded thoughtfully.

The other woman then pointed to the pile of chains Emma had left piled on the bed. “And those?”

Emma sighed. “Too clunky and loud to bring with us, I’m afraid.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll cast a silencing spell on them and we can secure them underneath your dress,” Anastasia said as she moved to do just that.

“Ana, no!” Emma shouted as she grabbed at Anastasia’s hand.

The other woman froze, staring at Emma like she’d lost her mind. “Sorry. The chains were made to prevent the wearer from using magic. I’m not sure how they will react to having magic cast upon them,” Emma explained.

Anastasia eyed the chains with distaste. “Wretched things. No wonder they were making me uncomfortable. They don’t bother you?”

Emma shrugged in response. She didn’t want to tell Anastasia that people who used dark magic tended to react more strongly to the chains than others.

“Is it because your magic is currently bound?” Anastasia continued.

Emma blinked in surprise. “You can tell?”

Anastasia hummed. “You have quite distinctive magic, Princess. Even as a girl, you glowed with it. That was how I recognized you earlier,” she explained as she ran her fingers along Emma’s palm. “Right now, it is… muted. Dimmer than before.”

Frowning, Emma thought about the implications of what she had just learned. Being able to see magic was a rare skill, but one often gained as a sorcerer increased their power. And there was no sorcerer more powerful than the Dark One.

“Do you think Rumpelstiltskin will be able to see my magic as well?” she asked.

Anastasia shrugged. “Perhaps. I’d be more worried about him recognizing your pirate.”

Chapter 10

#CSBB #Assassin's Creed: Misthaven #CS FF #Captain Swan #CS Fanfiction #AC:M #My Writing

23 notes · View notes

delightfully-difficult-pirate · 7 years ago

Text

Assassin’s Creed: Misthaven (7/18)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic Violence, Sex, Adult Language.

AO3

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Art for Chapter 7 by @cocohook38

Killian, Swan, and his crew arrived in Camelot in the late afternoon and immediately Killian set about arranging lodging. He settled on The Frog and Frigate, and though the inn had definitely seen better days, it had enough room to house the seventeen of them without draining Swan’s purse. That same night, Killian set out to find a contact he hoped would be able to provide him with the information Swan would need for her mission.

Killian wasn’t in contact with many people from his days in the Templar Order, since many would be obligated to kill him on sight. However, there was one man he had made an effort to keep track of: William Scarlet, the self-proclaimed Knave of Hearts.

Will had run with Robin’s gang of Merry Men once upon a time, though he had never been an official member of the Order. He’d only become an associate after his lady love, Anastasia, had run off and married the Order’s second-in-command, Lord Ferdinand Stanford, who was also known as the Red King. Even so, Killian had worked with him on a few missions and had developed a fondness for the lout.

Years later, when Killian had set his sights on killing Lord Stanford, he’d gone to Will for assistance. The Knave had been more than willing to help. With the Red King dead, Will had had another chance to woo back Anastasia. The last Killian had heard the two of them were living quite happily in Camelot.

Scarlett was not a hard man to find. After asking a couple of questions, and passing over a few pieces of silver, Killian learned that Will could usually be found at a tavern called The White Rabbit.

“Got something to sell?” The barkeep asked when Killian inquired after Scarlett at The White Rabbit.

“I might,” Killian replied, tucking his hand and hook into his belt.

“Have a pint. Scarlett will be around in a bit,” he was informed.

Killian rolled his eyes, but bought a pint of beer and took a seat at an empty table. The beer was hoppy and not at all to Killian’s taste. The tavern, however, was just the type of place Killian frequented. It was full of disreputable men and woman and as he waited, Killian watched as numerous illicit deals were struck.

“So, Leonard tells me you might… By the gods, Jones! Is that you?” Scarlett exclaimed as he took a seat across from Killian. Killian could only laugh at the dumbfounded expression on Will’s face.

“Most people call me by my more colorful moniker now,” Killian held up his hook.

Will’s eyes glanced at the shining metal implement that had replaced his missing hand, but he quickly returned to staring open mouthed at Killian.

“You haven’t aged a day,” the shocked thief finally whispered.

Ahhh.

“Technically I’ve aged a few years since the last time I saw you,” Killian corrected him.

“Aged a few years…Jones, it’s been thirteen!”

Killian shrugged. “I spent about a decade in a realm called Neverland, where physical aging is frozen.”

Will frowned. “Isn’t that where your brother died?”

“One and the same,” Killian confirmed.

“What the devil drove you back to there?” Will looked at Killian expectantly, obviously expecting an exciting story.

Not in the mood to revisit one of the darkest times in his life, Killian gave Will a simplified version of his motivations. “I went to Neverland to retrieve Dreamshade, which has the ability to kill even the most powerful sorcerer.”

However, Will’s next statement told him that the thief was well aware of Killian’s turbulent past. “You wanted it so you can kill Robert Gold.”

The name of Milah’s murderer sent white-hot rage coursing through Killian. For a moment, he was back on The Jolly Roger, watching helplessly as Robert Gold plunged his hand into Milah’s chest and removed her heart. He’d crushed it with a squeeze of his fist and dropped the ashes in front of where Killian had been tied to the mast, slowly bleeding out from the loss of his hand.

Killian chugged the remainder of his beer, desperately trying to push back the painful memories

“Is that what has brought you to Camelot?”

“Sadly not. I’m here on business and was hoping you could help get the lay of the land.”

Will raised his tankard in a mock salute. “What do you need to know?”

---

Though she wasn’t keen to announce her presence in Camelot to the Brotherhood, Emma needed to know whether or not word of new status of traitor had managed to travel this far south. The local base in Camelot was operated by her old friend August. She was rather confident that even if he was aware of her treachery, he wouldn’t immediately alert the Brotherhood before at least hearing her out. He adored Henry.

August had gone to Camelot a few years ago to help establish an Assassin presence in the country. Though the mission had been marginally successful, the Brotherhood had established a local base of operations in the capital city to cement their small foothold. August had been placed in charge of the base in reward for his efforts and he now helped coordinate all Assassin activity in the region. He did so out of his teashop, Geppetto’s Tisanes, and that would need to be Emma’s first stop if she wished to make contact with him.

So, the morning after arriving in Camelot, Emma ventured into the city with only a vague memory of where August had opened his shop. Thankfully, people were eager to give her directions; the teashop was well known to the locals for having quality tea and tisane blends at fair prices. Emma was sure that the Brotherhood’s connections with trading companies played a role in that.

To Emma’s surprise and pleasure, Geppetto’s Tisanes not only sold teas and tisanes, but also served them. Patrons occupied all of the dozen tables that lined the shop’s walls. Men and woman from all social rankings, she noticed, taking in one man’s silk doublet and another’s rough canvas trousers.

Emma approached the counter and waited until the shop’s lone attendant, a young man, was able to attend her.

“Afternoon Ma’am. What can I get you today?” he asked as he wiped a stray tealeaf off the counter with a towel.

“I’m here to see Mr. Pinocchio,” she told him.

“And who may I say is calling?” The attendant asked, his eyes assessing her.

“Swan.”

He raised a brow. “Just Swan?”

“Yes. Just Swan,” she replied curtly.

The attendant nodded and headed through a door that Emma assumed led to the back of the shop. She studied the selection of teas behind the counter and contemplated purchasing some of the chamomile tisane.

When the attendant returned, he lifted a portion of the counter and indicated she should cross through the gap it left. Steeling herself for whatever happened next, she followed him through the same door he had left through earlier. She was right that it led to the back of the shop. She couldn’t see the walls for all the crates that were piled high along them.

August was sat at a table in the center of the room, placing tealeaves on one side of a set of bronze scales. It had been a few years since she’d seen her friend. There were a few more strands of grey in his brown hair and in his beard, which was longer than she had ever seen it.

“Swan, to what do I owe the pleasure?” August asked as he stood, coming around the table to offer her his hand. She caught a quick glimpse of his hidden blades before she took his hand and shook it, feeling odd. The August she knew would always wrap her in a hug whether she wanted one or not.

Did he know she was a traitor? That she had killed one of their brethren?

“Business, as I’m sure you can guess,” she told him, her voice as casual as she could make it.

August nodded, and then looked at the attendant who was still loitering behind Emma. “That will be all, Becket,” he ordered. Emma couldn’t help but notice the disappointed look on the young man’s face as he returned to the front of the shop.

“Follow me,” August whispered, pulling on her hand. He head led her around a pile of crates and down a very thin gap between them and the wall. It ended when it reached the corner of the room and Emma watched as August crouched and unlocked a trap door set into the floor. Though she was still a bit worried, Emma followed August through the trap door. Once he had lit a few lamps, she saw that she was in a subterranean room lined with all manners of weapons and gear any Assassin would could possibly need when on a mission.

“Emma, it is so good to see you,” August said as he wrapped her in the hug she had been missing earlier.

“It’s good to see you too,” Emma said, relaxing into his embrace.

After Emma had turned down his proposal of marriage when she had discovered she was with child, things had been difficult for the two of them. August had been bitter at her refusal and nothing Emma could do could sooth his injured pride. It had taken a few years, but eventually the two of them had returned to being friends despite that part of their history.

“I didn’t receive any notice that you were coming to Camelot,” August said, his brows furrowing.

“I’m afraid I’m not exactly here on official business,” Emma began. She was unsure of how to proceed with her explanation. August was one of her closest friends, but he was also a profoundly loyal Assassin. Even if he wasn’t aware that she was now a traitor, could she trust him to help, or at least not interfere, with her mission?

“There is a rumor that Robert Gold is here in Camelot,” she said, going with the same story she told Nemo.

Her friend frowned. “Are you sure? I haven’t heard anything like that; I would have sent word if I had.”

Emma shrugged. “I can’t be sure, not until I search.”

“Everything I have here is at your disposal,” August said as he got up and began searching through a desk drawer. He pulled out a copper disk about the size of Emma’s palm and handed it to her. “This will lead you to the safe houses we have set up in the city, should you need one.”

“Thank you, August,” she said, meaning it.

---

Emma returned to The Frog and Frigate after her visit with August armed with a detailed map of the city and updated knowledge of the local politics.

Rumpelstiltskin had arrived in Camelot three years ago, just months after young King Arthur the seventh had ascended to the throne. He had ingratiated himself quickly with the untried and nervous King, goading him into renewing his families quest to return the Holy Grail to Camelot. When the old King’s advisors had disagreed with the notion that some magical cup would solve all of Camelot’s problems, they had been booted removed from their positions. Rumpelstiltskin then became the King’s most trusted, and sole, confidant.

Understandably, angered a number of aristocrats and for the past two years, there had been a bit of a rift between the King and his court. Only recently had it begun to heal, with the King agreeing to marry Lady Gwendolyn, the daughter of Camelot’s formerly most powerful Count. Rumpelstiltskin was an outspoken critic of the marriage. Officially, he didn’t believe the woman suitable in temperament to be Queen, but everyone knew it was because he feared losing his influence over the King.

Emma was holed up in the inn’s private dining room contemplating whether or not she could risk speaking with the disgruntled members of the court in hopes of finding an ally when Hook found her.

“Swan! Care for a spot of lunch?” he asked, poking his head into the room.

At the thought of food, Emma’s stomach answered for her. Hook laughed and returned a few minutes later with two plates of food, one in his hand and the other balanced on the flat of his hook. Emma pushed her map out of the way to make room. Lunch was roast potatoes and a cut of meat Emma couldn’t immediately identify.

“Have you had any luck in finding the acquaintance you mentioned yesterday?” Emma asked, around a mouthful of well-seasoned potatoes.

“I did, in fact. Scarlet’s always been good at keeping his ear to the ground and I’m sure he’ll be helpful when we need information.” Killian poked at the meat with his hook as he talked and Emma was glad she wasn’t the only one who was a little suspicious of it.

“How did your visit with the local Assassin Leader go?” Killian asked, giving her a smug look.

Emma wasn’t surprised that Hook had known where she had gone even though she hadn’t told him of her destination.

“It could have gone worse. Word of my betrayal hasn’t managed to travel this far south,” she replied as she took a cautious bite of the meat. It tasted like goat, but she wasn’t entirely sure.

“I made sure not to tell Scarlet too much about what we had planned. Even so, he did let me know that five nights from now, the royal family is hosting a ball to celebrate the King’s recent engagement. It may be the perfect opportunity for us to abduct this Rumpelstiltskin.”

Emma stared at Hook, trying to comprehend his logic behind his plan. “A ball… You’re suggesting we infiltrate the royal castle of Camelot and abduct the court sorcerer while they are hosting a ball?”

“Come now, Swan. History tells me this is a tried and true Assassin tradition. Didn’t Ezio Auditore once assassinate a prince at his own banquet?” Hook countered.

Emma blinked. “He was protecting the Prince, actually.” she answered, amazed that Hook knew such an obscure piece of Assassin history.

He waved his hook dismissively. “Regardless, at a soiree of this size, the guards will be tired, over worked, and likely a bit drunk. It’ll be the perfect time to go unnoticed.”

Slouching in her chair, Emma rubbed her forehead, frowning. However much she disliked the proposed plan, she had to admit that Hook’s reasoning wasn’t far off the mark. With so many people attending a royal function, there would be plenty of unknown faces to blend in with if needed.

“I can only see this plan working if Rumpelstiltskin isn’t attending the ball itself. We can’t kidnap him from a room full of people,” she said, beginning to consider the plan against her better judgment.

Hook grinned, excited, and Emma’s heart skipped a beat.

“I’ll talk to Will again and see what he can tell me about the sorcerer’s habits. Providing, of course, you don’t mind giving him an idea of who you are after.”

Emma thought about that as she finished her lunch. She wasn’t thrilled about the idea of revealing so much about her plan to another person. As friendly as she had become with the men of Hook’s crew, only the Captain and Starkey knew the target of her mission.

“Do you trust this Will Scarlet?” She finally asked.

Hook took his time to think about her question before answering. “It’s been over a decade since I’ve worked with the man, but he’s never been the type to sell out another for his own benefit. The only way he would betray us would be if Anastasia is in danger.”

Emma had to grudgingly admire Hook’s honesty, but she wasn’t ready to let down that wall yet. “Why don’t you take me to meet Scarlet and I’ll judge for myself whether he is trustworthy.”

---

Killian was initially hesitant to take Swan to The White Rabbit. Even though he knew that Swan was more than capable of taking care of herself, he felt the need to protect her from any situation where she might need to do so.

So during the walk to the tavern, Killian found himself walking closer to Swan than was strictly necessary, under the guise of telling her about his history with Will Scarlet. She asked a lot of pointed questions, probing his memories of the thief.

When they reached The White Rabbit, Killian casually rested his hand on the small of Swan’s back as he guided her towards the bar. She gave him a questioning look, but didn’t object.

“Will you tell Scarlet that Jones is here to see him?” Killian asked Leonard, the same barkeep from the night before.

“Got something to sell this time?” the man asked, glaring.

“No. But he should be expecting me.” Killian had had Logan deliver a message to Scarlet earlier in the day that he would be stopping by.

Leonard grunted. “Scarlet’s busy. Have a pint while you wait.”

Killian noticed Swan rolling her eyes at Leopold’s recalcitrance as he purchased two pints of beer. He was happy to see that they appeared to have run out of the hoppy beer from the night before and had switched to an ale.

He and Swan took a seat at a table near the back of the tavern. Since they both wanted to keep their backs to the wall, he and Swan both ended up on the same side of the table. Together, they sipped their ale and watched the taverns other patrons. Well, Swan was studying their surroundings, but Killian found himself watching his companion instead.

“Has your friend become a fence?” Swan asked, her eyes glancing around the room. He figured she was cataloguing all of the available exits.

“I suppose,” he answered. It fit. Scarlet had always had a good eye for valuables.

Killian was almost finished with the halfway decent ale when Scarlet dropped into the seat across from Swan and himself. Scarlet gave Swan a quick once over before he grinned at Killian.

“Jones, I didn’t expect to see you again so soon.”

“Scarlet, this is Swan. It is her business that has brought me to Camelot. Swan, William Scarlet.” Killian introduced them and watched as the two of them sized the other up as they shook hands.

From the way she was frowning, Swan was clearly unimpressed with Scarlet. Killian couldn’t blame her; Scarlet had always had an aura of a man who couldn’t be fully trusted. His smile, unless it was for Anastasia, was always a little sly, his hands too quick.

Regardless, Swan forged ahead. “I need to know about the court sorcerer, Rumpelstiltskin.”

Scarlet clucked his tongue. “He’s a mystery, that one. Showed up out of the blue a few years back and weaseled his way into Arthur’s good graces. Word is he practices dark magic.”

Swan frowned, evidently unhappy to be receiving information she had heard before.

Scarlet continued, “Came to see me, last year, asking about some dagger. Gives me the creeps, that one.” Scarlet gave a visible shiver to emphasize his point. “Is he who you’re after?”

“In a way,” Swan said tersely.

Scarlet shrugged his shoulders. “Well the Kingdom won’t be sad to see him gone. What kind of information do you need?”

“I need to know his habits. Does he keep to himself? Spend most of his time in Merlin’s Tower? Go anywhere in the city on a regular basis?” Emma demanded.

Taking a sip of his pint, Hook watched as Scarlet leaned back in his chair, obviously deep in thought.

“Rumor has it he spends most of his time in the Tower,” Scarlet said eventually, with some reluctance. “Only really appears when the King requests his presence for meetings or royal functions. Even then, he leaves as early as protocol allows. Rarely comes into town.”

Killian grinned. If Rumpelstiltskin normally left royal functions early, he would likely be alone in his tower the night of the royal ball.

“Any chance you have a map of the castle?” Killian found himself asking, excited that his plan may have true merit.

Scarlet rolled his eyes at him before he replied, “Might.”

“It would be quite helpful if we could borrow it,” Swan said as she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.

Scarlet looked unconvinced about lending out such a valuable bit of information. Or at least he was until Killian fished into his pocket and laid a couple of silver coins on the table. Scarlet quickly scooped them up.

“It’s at home. I’ll bring it by your inn in the morning.”

---

Emma was pleased to find that Scarlet was good on his word and did, in fact, show up the next day at The Frog and Frigate just as she was finishing her breakfast. Map acquired, she and Hook commandeered the same private dining room she had used yesterday to pore over it.

The map was remarkably detailed. It not only included the locations of main rooms and halls, but smaller ones such as closets and lavatories. There were even notations about the usual routes guards took in different parts of the castle when on patrols. She had no doubt that Camelot’s King had lost some precious items to the intrepid William Scarlet.

“If this is accurate, there is a small gate on the south side of the castle that leads to the gardens. It looks like there is a service road that cuts through the forest that leads up to it. We could enter the grounds there and as so long as we avoid the kitchens, we should be able to make our way towards the Tower without being noticed,” Emma muttered, mostly to herself.

“Yes, we could do that, or…” the sound of a chair scrapping against stone caused Emma to raise her head. Hook made his way over to where she sat and held out his hand in invitation. Confused, Emma none the less placed her hand in his and allowed herself to drawn towards him.

“Or, we could attend the celebrations as invited guests, have ourselves a jolly good time, and then wander off.” Hook’s left arm wrapped around her waist, drawing her close, and he began to lead her in the first few steps of a waltz. “The guards won’t outright challenge a couple of lost guests, or those seeking somewhere private for some.... personal delights.” Hook had brought his lips close to her neck as he’d spoken, practically breathing the last words in her ear.

Emma shivered. “We’re planning to abduct one of the most powerful sorcerers in the realms and all you can think about is personal delights?”

“I am a man of many talents, Swan,” Hook whispered.

Emma allowed herself to enjoy the feel of Hook’s arms around her for a moment longer than she should have before pulling away. He let her go without a fuss.

“First things first. We have plans to make. Pleasure will have to wait for later.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, Emma figured she was in for some witty and flirtatious comeback from Hook. Instead, he simply smiled and bowed. “I look forward to it,” before joining her in once more studying Scarlet’s map.

“We can make out way to Merlin’s tower through the gardens,” Hook added, tracing the route he was describing with a finger. “Once we have the sorcerer, we can go out through the gate you mentioned. Starkey can meet us with a carriage or cart.”

Together, they managed to come up with the beginnings of a plan that seemed like it would actually succeeded. However, there were a few factors that needed to be sorted before they could fully commit to arranging the finer details.

One, they would need invitation to attend the royal ball.

Two, a well maintained but unremarkable carriage would be needed to transport them to the castle and again away once they had Rumpelstiltskin in custody. It would also need to be sturdy enough to make the overland trip back to Hedge’s Run and The Jolly Roger. Hook had deemed it too dangerous to involve any of the local barge captains and risk the journey by boat.

And, most importantly, three, Emma would need to determine how she could hide any necessary weapons and gear she would need within whatever frippery was in fashion this season for Camelot’s ruling class.

The invitation, of course, would be the hardest to obtain. When asked whether or not he though Scarlet would be able to procure one, Hook shook his head.

“I’m sure he can get us a carriage no one will miss and some respectable clothes, but I doubt he is that well connected. We will need a legitimate invitation. A stolen one would only get us arrest.”

Disappointing as his assessment was, Emma agreed.

Sadly, that would leave them with only one other option: The Brotherhood.

---

Around midday, Emma set out once again toward Geppetto’s Tisanes. August, she hoped, would have the contacts to procure an invitation and not ask too many questions about why.

The teashop was busy when she arrived, with both August and Becket alternating between being behind the counter selling tea and serving those customers drinking at the tables. Emma managed to secure a table of her own when a couple of elderly gentlemen left and settled in to wait.

After a few minutes, August brought her a pot with tea a deep red in color and a single cup and saucer. No sugar, no cream. He knew she wouldn’t use either.

The tea was her favorite, called Yunnan Black, and it came from Mulan’s home empire in the east. It was rich and malty, with a note of sweetness at the end.

It reminded her of home, of long days learning the intricate art of diplomacy from her mother and even longer nights mastering the Assassin’s deadly arts. Mulan had first introduced her to the tea when the two of them had been Initiates together, trying to memorize the many ways to kill with a single stroke of a blade.

Allowing herself to enjoy the memories, time passed, and eventually the shop’s business slowed enough to August to join her at her table. He brought with him his own pot of tea, a pungent smelling brew that made her wrinkle her nose.

“It is a pleasure to see you again so soon, Emma,” her friend said with a smile as he sat across from her.

“Likewise. However, I’m afraid I am here to talk more business,” Emma replied, glancing around to assess the safety of speaking in the shop. It was mostly empty, with Becket behind the counter and a few patrons lingering at a table on the far side of the room.

August gathered their pots of tea and cups onto a tray and transported them into the back of the shop, jerking his head to indicate she should follow.

“This should be fine,” Emma said. Trying to make August navigate the steep ladder down to the secure room below while balancing pots of hot tea seemed dicey.

August nodded and together they cleared a spot on his worktable.

“I need an invitation to the royal ball being held in a few days,” Emma said frankly.

August barely reacted to her blunt request. The only sign of his surprise was barely visible tightening of his lips. He, like Emma, had been well-taught not to show shock even at the most outrageous of statements.

“Emma, why?” he asked calmly.

Emma sipped her tea, fortifying herself. “Robert Gold enjoys the finer things in life and isn’t likely hiding among the common folk of Camelot. If I am to find him, he’ll be among the elite of the kingdom.”

August studied her for a few moments. Every Assassin was trained to spot a lie, but they were also schooled in how to tell one without giving any of the telltale signs.

“I have a few contacts who may be able to get one. I’ll see what I can do,” he said at last, sighing heavily. “Just promise me you don’t do anything rash, if you do find him. I can’t help you if you create a diplomatic incident. Not without the Brotherhood’s say-so.”

“I promise,” Emma said. The lie tasted like ash in her mouth.

Chapter 8

A/N: Trying something new by putting the art in the story, please let me know if you like it!

#CSBB #CSBB 2017 #CS FF #CS AU #Captain Swan #Assassin's Creed: Misthaven #My writing #AC:M

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delightfully-difficult-pirate · 7 years ago

Text

Assassin’s Creed: Misthaven (5/18)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic Violence, Sex, Adult Language.

AN: A special thank you to @preciouscucumber for being an ever patient and diligent beta. Even when I send her random pages thinking I had something that I forgot to send her, only to find out she had edited it in July and I was a dope who didn’t copy things over. To @cocohook38 and @utopiozphere for the awesome artwork they have created. And to @icecubelotr44 for her encouragement every step of the way.

AO3

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Art for Chapter 5 by @cocohook38

The next morning Emma was hesitant to leave her cabin, uncharacteristically nervous in the aftermath of her encounter with Hook. She’d never been shy after her sexual adventures, only circumspect because of her royal status. She’d always been able to put on a smile and pretend she didn’t know what the cock of the Captain of the Glassboro Ambassador’s honor guard tasted like, even as they danced together at some royal event or another.

But today… today she was too scared.

Last night, in the wake of their sexual exploits, she had wanted to stay. She’d wanted to remain curled up on that small bed, her head on his chest and his hand in her hair, and bask in the afterglow of the best sex she’d ever had. With one of the most interesting men she’d ever met. Because while he may be a former Templar, he was also a man with whom she had an undeniable connection.

She never stayed.

Staying was too intimate. And Emma didn’t do intimate.

Not since Baelfire.

Baelfire… Just the thought of Henry’s father made Emma inwardly cringe.

She’d only been seventeen years old when the son of Robert Gold had come to her family’s castle, requesting protection from the Assassins in residence in exchange for information on the Templar Order. Emma had been ordered to stay away from him until his trustworthiness was assessed. However, she’d found herself intrigued by the mysterious stranger, so she’d disobeyed and sought him out.

Baelfire had charmed her with ease. He made her laugh, and she could spend hours just relaxing in his presence, but most importantly, he had treated her like a regular woman instead of a Princess. She’d fallen for him even though she knew she shouldn’t have. On the night of her eighteenth birthday, she’d dragged him away from the festivities and spent the night giving into her feelings.

The next morning, Emma had awoken alone. She’d thought that he had left to avoid being caught in the Princesses bed, but a casual search of the castle revealed that he wasn’t anywhere on the premises. When he wasn’t located before nightfall, a search had been mounted. The Assassins had feared that Templar’s had somehow snuck in and abducted the defector, but August, her faithful friend since childhood, had come forward with a heart wrenching truth.

During the night, while the guards were distracted by the ongoing celebrations, Baelfire had broken into the castle’s vaults. He’d taken no gold or jewels, but something infinitely more valuable, rare a magic bean.

August had followed Baelfire to an isolated stretch of forest and confronted him about his theft. There, her lover of one night had reportedly railed against the politics of the world, cursing both the Assassin and Templar organizations. He’d gone into a rage about how the demands of the Templar Order had caused his father to seek magical power, and how once he found it, the dark magic had destroyed the man until very little of Robert Gold remained.

Baelfire had said he could longer live in a world where magic existed and that was where he had instructed the pilfered bean to take him. A Land Without Magic.

When Emma had asked August about why he hadn’t stopped Baelfire from going into the bean’s portal, her friend had reluctantly revealed that Baelfire had said some very uncomplimentary things about herself and her magic. The insults had been too much and August had actually pushed Baelfire into the portal in his anger. August had always been overly protective of her.

It was almost two months later that she’d discovered that she was with child. Baelfire had been her only lover and the child was most definitely his. That hadn’t stopped August from proposing marriage, though he was only a wood carver’s son and wholly unsuited to be the husband of a princess. Emma had considered it, for a brief moment. The marriage would have been challenged by the aristocracy of Misthaven, of course, but her parent’s would have backed her if she convinced them that she truly loved August.

Except she didn’t, at least not in the romantic sense.

The puppet-turned-real boy was a wonderful man, but she was not in love with him.

Emma had confessed her dalliance with Baelfire to her parent’s and the resulting consequence of the affair. David and Snow had been disappointed, having trusted her to be more responsible, but had offered their support for whatever she chose to do.

She could have ended the pregnancy before it had become widely known. There were numerous herbs and potions that would have rid her of the unexpected burden. Ultimately, Emma had decided against it, despite the scandal she knew having a child out of wedlock would cause.

She never regretted her decision. Henry was the light of her life.

He was the reason she was sailing aboard a pirate ship on her way to abduct his paternal grandfather in hopes that Robert Gold’s blood would help lift the curse her maternal step-grandmother had placed on him.

While Emma hadn’t expected this voyage to go smoothly, especially after the constant warnings about the dangerous storms they would be facing, she hadn’t expected the type of situation she found herself in with the ship’s spirited captain.

Emma’s stomach grumbled and drew her from her ruminations. Hesitant as she was to leave her solitude, it was time for breakfast and Tristan would be unsympathetic if she skipped the morning meal only to show up hours later in search of food.

Giving into pragmatism, Emma finally ventured forth to the galley and collected her portion of the oats Tristan had made and her now usual cup of ginger tea. Because she had dallied, the oats were more warm than hot, but she forced herself to eat them regardless. It was her own fault, after all.

Just as Emma was finishing her breakfast, she felt The Jolly Roger lurch violently around her. She, and her dishes, were unceremoniously tossed to the deck. Scrambling to her feet, Emma immediately went to the staircase that lead to the weather deck. She only climbed the first few steps though, because as curious as she was about what was going on, she didn’t want to get in the way.

It wasn’t raining as badly as it had been the night before, but Emma was quickly soaked through as she tried to figure out what was going on. Every member of the crew was rushing about, some climbing the shrouds, or pulling on lines as Starkey shouted orders from the helm. Hook she spotted to her right, pulling on a line with Theo to secure a sail that had come loose in the wind.

A crack of wood drew Emma’s attention to her left and she watched, horrified, as the large cannon opposite Hook and Theo broke from its restraints and started rolling across the length of the deck.

Emma reacted without thought and used her magic to push Hook out of the cannon’s path. The pirate captain was forced forward, somersaulting ass over teakettle due to the unrefined nature of her spell casting. She would have enjoyed the sight of his flabbergasted face had her chance of appreciation not been interrupted by the harsh crash of the loose cannon breaking through the railing and plummeting to the sea below.

Heart beating loudly in her chest, Emma pulled her gaze away from the damage and found Hook staring straight at her, a quizzical look on his face. Their eyes met and he quirked a brow at her, obviously asking if she was responsible for his sudden tumble. She rolled her eyes at him, a non-answer, and decided to return below deck before she gave away anymore of her secrets.

----

Alone in his cabin, Killian had found sleep almost impossible after his tryst with Swan. Normally he was able to sleep even under the worst seafaring conditions but with his sheets smelling of sweat, sex, and roses, sleep had refused to come. Every time he closed his eyes, his mind conjured up the image of Swan riding atop him, her delectable breasts bouncing with every pump of his hips.

Morpheus had finally granted him a respite from his thoughts, though he still found himself waking with the dawn a few hours later like any good sailor. Since Tristan had only been starting to work on breakfast for the crew when Killian had stopped by the galley, he’d snagged an apple to partially satisfy his hunger until a more substantial meal was available.

On deck, Killian had found the morning dark and grey, with the rain falling harder than he would have predicted. Concerned, he had climbed the shrouds and rigging to stand on the topgallant yard of the mainmast and pointed his spyglass to the north.

The storm had not gone north as Starkey had forecast. Instead, it had continued straight and this put The Jolly Roger right in its path. The cove they had taken shelter in would not be sufficient to protect them. In fact, the rotation of the hurricane could flood the cove with water and dash them upon the cliffs.

“Starkey,” Killian had yelled as he dropped back to the deck, “get the men on deck. We’re about to take a beating.”

Half a day later, Killian returned to his cabin wanting nothing more than a hot bath and a large bottle of rum to warm him up. He was soaked through despite the protection of his great coat, thanks to the relentless winds of the storm. Stripping out of his waterlogged clothing, he made sure to hang his coat, vest, and shirt to dry properly, before starting on the challenge of getting out of his trousers.

Killian had only begun to undo the lacing of the front panel when he was interrupted by a knock at his cabin door.

“Come in,” he called, distracted. The leather of his ties had become swollen with rain, making the knot difficult to undo.

“Captain, Tristan thought you would…” Killian’s head snapped out at the sound of Swan’s voice startled. He hadn’t expected her to come to his cabin so soon after last night.

Swan held a tray in her hands on which there was the ship’s metal teapot, a pile of biscuits, and what looked like a few cold cuts of pork. He could smell lemons and a hint of honey and his stomach grumbled in response. He’d only had an apple for breakfast, after all, and he was in dire need of nourishment after his exertions on deck.

“Sorry for disturbing you,” Swan said while she set the tray on his table. “Tristan asked me to bring this to you, saying you would probably be hungry.”

“Thank you,” Killian said.

“You should thank Tristan,” Swan replied. She turned to leave, but he stopped her by looping his hook around her elbow. She froze, and with a deep breath, turned back to face him, but her face was guarded.

“Thank you for saving me earlier today. I would have gone overboard with that cannon had you not pushed me out of its path. I owe you my life,” he said, trying to infuse his voice with his appreciation.

“I didn’t do anything,” Swan said in reply, her own voice emotionless.

“I am familiar enough with magic to know its touch, Lady Swan.” Killian smiled, trying to put his reluctant savior at ease.

It didn’t work. With a glare, Swan removed her arm from the curve of his hook and quickly left his cabin, the door slamming shut behind her.

“Bugger.”

------

The Jolly Roger weathered the rest of the storm without any more major mishaps or any loss of life. Still, the ship was in a right state after the battle with The Trident and the storm. Together, Killian and Starkey decided it would be necessary to put in at port for repairs. Ripped sails were easy enough to repair, but the damage to the rails, siding, and hull would need a shipwright’s expert touch.

Unsurprisingly, Swan was less than pleased with their decision.

“Speed is of the essence, Captain. It is vital that I reach Camelot and secure Rumpelstiltskin before the Brotherhood knows where he is,” Swan argued, her hand slamming down on the map spread out across table of his cabin in emphasis.

“I understand that, Swan, but The Jolly Roger needs attention. In this condition, she’d only be able to sail half her normal speed, at best. It will take less time to put into port and get her set right than it would be to continue on as is,” Killian explained, tracing a line down the coastline on the map with his finger. “We’re heading to a port called Silverbrooke. There is a shipwright there, Hawkins, that can hopefully get The Jolly Roger repaired in less than a week.”

“A week?” Swan’s voice went shrill in her anger and she glared at him, her green eyes sparking with anger. Suddenly, he felt heat on his hand and looked down to see that her eyes weren’t the only things sparking. White sparks were emitting from the tops of Swan’s fingers and one had started a small fire on his map. He put it out with a quick slap of his hand. When he looked up, he saw that Swan had stepped back from the table. Her arms were tight to her sides, hands clenched into fists, and breathing heavily through her nose.

She was afraid, he realized. Whether she was afraid of the consequence of a delay or because of her magical outburst, he wasn’t sure. Nevertheless, he felt the urge to comfort her. He kept his distance though, despite how much he wanted to wrap her in his arms.

Killian watched as Swan clenched and unclenched her hands, the sparks becoming less frequent with every slow breath she took.

“My apologies, Captain,” Swan said, lifting her eyes to meet his. One of her hands went up to grasp the necklace she always wore.

“A small scorch mark, nothing to worry about,” Killian said, keeping his voice low.

“Regardless, I apologize.”

Swan looked like she wanted to run from his cabin, so in order to lighten the tension in the room Killian poured them both a glass of wine. It was not the Agrabahn wine they had looted from The Trident, he intended to sell that, but a red he’d picked up in Alexandria before setting out.

“Will you tell me, Swan, why this mission is so important to you?” Killian asked as he sat down.

Swan sat down across from him, picking up the glass of wine he had poured and swirled it in the glass.

Finally, she answered, “My son. I’m doing all of this for my son.” She closed her eyes as she sipped at the wine and when they opened again he could see that they were shining with tears. “He was cursed by Queen Regina in revenge for a mistake I made. Rumpelstiltskin may be the only way to lift it before it kills him.”

“My condolences lass. But why go after your son and not you?” He asked, taken aback by her tale. Regina had always been a ruthless woman, but to curse a child for the crimes of the mother was not something he thought even her capable of.

Swan hesitated before answering his questions and he figured she was trying to decide how much to reveal. “I am… protected,” she finally said.

“Because of your magic?” He asked, genuinely curious about what could protect a person from Regina’s magic. The Queen was a powerful sorcerer.

“In a way,” Swan answered, shrugging.

Killian sipped at his wine as he considered the information he had gained. He still had questions, but one specifically had been bothering him since he’d discovered Swan had magic.

“Why not just magic yourself to Camelot? That would have saved you this month of travel, even if you had to take a slow route back.” He didn’t know if a sorcerer’s magic could transport two people, especially if one was an unwilling passenger.

One of Swan’s hands was once again grasping her necklace and he wondered at it’s significance, wishing he had gotten a better look at it the other night.

“The curse on my son, Henry, is slowly draining him of his life force. To keep him alive, I cast a spell so that my magic would keep him alive long after the curse would have killed him. However, it means that I must be very careful with how much magic I use.” Swan lifted the necklace to eyelevel and he could see that it was a golden rose.

“Each petal represents how much magic I have left to power the spell keeping Henry alive. When I left home, there were nine petals. Now, there are only seven, and I have been very careful with how much magic I have been using. Teleportation takes a lot of magic,” Swan explained.

Killian nodded, completely amazed.

“Swan, I’ll get you to Camelot as quick as I and The Jolly Roger are able,” Killian promised. Giving in to his urge to comfort Swan, he reached across the table and grasped her hand that had been resting on the table next to her wine glass. To his pleasure and surprise, she didn’t pull away.

“Thank you. Moreover, let me apologize again for losing my temper earlier. It’s just…he’s my son.” Swan smiled at him, but it was a sad one.

For a moment, they just stared at each other. He didn’t know what was going through her mind, but his was busy cataloging how incredible Swan was. He was beginning to like her on an emotional level more than was probably wise.

Swan pulled away first, freeing her hand from his, and standing.

“I hope this Silverbrooke has an inn with a bathing chamber. I could do with a wash,” she said as she left his cabin.

Killian smiled. Despite her quip, to him, she only ever smelled of roses.

-----

It took two days for the battered Jolly Roger to reach the small town of Silverbrooke. The harbor was empty, since more of the local boats had gone to dry dock for the season.

As soon as the ship was secure, Killian strode down the gangplank to the dock . “Captain Jones!” the harbormaster called. “You’re the last person I expected to see come to town this time of year.”

“Wilson, I admit, I didn’t expect to be here. But we’ve had a difficult couple of days and The Jolly here is in need of Hawkins’ expert attention.”

Wilson nodded, eyeing the rough repairs the crew had been able to manage while at sea. With a whistle, he called one of the young lads that hung around the docks and sent him off to fetch Hawkins.

Killian nodded his thanks. He and Wilson spoke about local news until Hawkins arrived. The shipwright had some choice words to say about the state of his ship.

“Plague seize you, Jones, what have you done to The Jewel?” demanded Hawkins, putting his hands on his hips and glaring at the battered ship.

Killian rolled his eyes. It had been over a decade since his ship had been The Jewel of the Realm, but Hawkins had been the shipwright who had built her, and he was a nostalgic man.

“How long do you expect it’ll take for you to get her fit again?” Killian asked, hoping it wouldn’t take as long as he had estimated to Swan.

Climbing the gangplank to the weather deck, Hawkins frowned at the missing rail. He spent the next hour inspecting every inch of the ship, tutting to himself the entire time.

“Jones, you’re lucky my boys are home visiting. With the three of us, it should only take four to five days for us to get this ship repaired. It’ll cost you though.” Wilson rubbed his fingers together meaningfully.

“You’ll be handsomely compensated,” Killian assured him.

“Then my boys and I will get to work.”

---

Emma decided not to waste any money by staying at the town’s local inn, The Raven’s Nest, and opted to remain aboard The Jolly Roger despite the ongoing repairs. Though she was not a guest of the inn, she did manage to purchase a quick bath in a small copper tub, which was enough to wash off the three weeks of grime she’d accumulated while at sea. Additionally, the innkeeper’s wife had told her that there was a local hot spring not far from town, which Emma became determined to visit before she left Silverbrooke.

Emma spent her time in Silverbrooke running errands into town, collecting supplies for the repairs and helping Victor procure some medicinal herbs unique to the region. Hawkins and his sons, Rowan and Orson, had been surprised to find her aboard The Jolly Roger the day they had started the repairs. Whether it was because they hadn’t expected a woman aboard a pirate ship, or specifically a woman aboard The Jolly Roger, she wasn’t sure. Either way, they quickly overcame their hesitance and accepted and treated her as part of the crew. But while on a shopping trip two days after The Jolly Roger had arrived in Silverbrooke, Emma discovered that she was being tailed.

Her shadow was good; Emma gave her (for it was a her) that. She’d gotten sloppy only once, when Emma had stepped into the apothecary to buy some dried comfrey. Emma would have waited outside if she was doing the tailing, since the shop had only one way in or out, but her shadow had followed her inside.

Emma’s heart had skipped a beat when she spotted the familiar blades on her shadow’s wrists and realized that it was an Assassin who was following her. Not only that, it was one she knew. Jenny had joined the Brotherhood a few years after Emma, a ladies’ maid recruited because she worked in Vand’s royal palace. Jenny spent little time in the field, her main assignment to pass information between the Vand based members of the Brotherhood and other chapters. If Jenny was here, in a small Vand town, it likely meant the Brotherhood had her scouting port cities. Emma had a sinking feeling that she herself was the reason, and that the Brotherhood knew of her betrayal.

Leaving the apothecary, Emma gave no sign that she was aware of her tail. Emma continued her errands, keeping a close eye on Jenny. As the day waned, Emma tired of watching over her shoulder and decided it was time to confront her shadow. Emma led Jenny to The Limping Lion, where she quickly headed through the main room, up the stairs, and out onto a small balcony. Emma watched from her perch on the balcony’s rail as Jenny, not knowing where her target had gone, exited the tavern from the back door and into the alley.

Emma stood and with a step, allowed herself to drop into the alley below. She landed right behind Jenny and pressed her right arm blade to the back of the woman’s neck.

“You need to spend more time outside of the palace, Jenny. Your skills are getting rusty,” Emma said, then she stepped back and allowed Jenny to turn and face her.

“Your Highness,” Jenny said glumly as she curtsied, which looked odd since she was wearing trousers, “I’ll keep that in mind.” As she straightened, Jenny rubbed at the back of her neck where Emma had pricked her lightly with the tip of the hidden blade.

Jenny stared at her and Emma began to feel a bit self-conscious about the salt-stained and ragged nature of the tunic and trousers she’d opted to wear that day.

“Princess, have you lost your mind?” Emma’s fellow Assassin questioned.

“Would you do any different, if it was your son?” Emma rebutted.

Jenny sighed in exasperation. “Regardless of your reasons, you’ve going directly against the orders of the Brotherhood. They’ve labeled you a traitor.”

Though Emma had known that was the likely outcome when she’d left Misthaven, it still hurt to hear it being said by one of her fellow Assassins.

“You don’t have instructions to eliminate me though. That is what is done to traitors, after all.” Emma had given Jenny plenty of opportunities to kill her throughout the day, even some that could have been made to look like accidents.

“I have authorization to, if I cannot convince you to give up this mission and return to Misthaven,” Jenny said, pressing her lips together.

“I can’t Jenny. You must understand that. He’s my son!” Emma almost choked on the last word, her emotions almost overwhelming her as she was faced with the first true consequence of her actions.

“Emma, please! I don’t want to kill you, I really don’t,” Jenny pleaded. “But I will, if I must.”

“I know.”

Following those two simple words, Emma stepped forward and slid her right arm blade between Jenny’s ribs, pressing hard to ensure she pierced the heart. Jenny blinked, completely shocked to find herself on the wrong side of Emma’s blade.

“I’m sorry,” Emma whispered as she removed her blade. She held Jenny close for the few moments it took her to die, ignoring the blood that was staining both their clothes. When she was gone, Emma caught her body and carefully laid her on the ground. Tears fell from her eyes.

“I’m so, so sorry.”

----

Killian started getting nervous when Swan did not return to The Jolly Roger by early evening. By nightfall, he was pacing the length of his ship, eyes scanning the waterfront area with each pass. Too worried not to act, Hook yelled to Starkey that he was going in search of their missing patron, and stalked off his ship and into town.

Killian started at the marketplace: a quick visit with the local apothecary revealed that Swan had been in earlier in the day, but that he hadn’t seen her since. By asking questions of the stall attendants as they packed up their wares, he tracked Swan’s movements, which eventually led him to The Limping Lion. The tavern was full, but there was no sign of Swan amongst the patrons.

In a town this small, the barkeep likely knew most of the locals, so Killian approached him and asked, “Mate, have you seen an unfamiliar blond woman in the past hour?”

“May have,” the barkeep answered.

Killian raised a brow. “If you had, do you know where she went?”

“Might,” was the man’s only reply.

Rolling his eyes, Killian dug into his great coat’s pockets, pulled out two silver coins, and placed them on the wooden bar. Though the coins had been minted in Briar, he hoped the barkeep wasn’t going to turn down good silver over something as silly as provenance.

The ploy worked. “She’s taken a room, number four.”

Killian nodded his thanks and headed up the stairs, looking for room four, which he found at the end of the hall. Killian raised his hook to knock, but paused when his mind finally caught up with his actions.

There were a few reasons a woman alone would pay for a tavern room, none of which he wanted to walk into or disturb. Swan was perfectly within her rights as a woman to rent a room and spend some time with a lover, as so many sailors did when on shore leave. Even if Killian’s stomach clenched at the thought of her with some random man, or woman, he wasn’t about to deny her any pleasure she sought.

Killian turned away from the door, intent on waiting at the bar for Swan to finish her sport, when he heard a troubling sound from inside the room. He turned back and carefully pressed his ear against the wood of the door.

Crying.

That was what he was hearing.

Swan was crying.

Suddenly filled with rage at the thought of anyone harming Swan, Killian stepped back and kicked open the door. He rushed into the room, sword drawn, and spun about, looking for someone to run through.

Instead, he found only Swan, starting at him in shock. She was wearing only her trousers and was holding her tunic was in her hands, which was soaked in blood.

Killian sheathed his sword, stepped across the room, and took Swan in hand and hook to check for wounds.

“Hook, what are you doing?” Swan shrieked at him, holding her tunic up to her chest.

“Where are you injured? I’ll send a lad to fetch Victor from the ship,” he told her as he moved the tunic away from her chest and ran his hand down her ribcage, breathing a sigh of relief when he found no damage. The next moment, Killian found himself flat on his ass, staring up at a red-faced Swan.

“I am fine. I was not the one injured,” Swan told him, her knuckles white from the tight grasp she had on her tunic. “I’m fine.”

Perplexed, Killian carefully lifted himself up off the floor. “What happened?” he asked, gesturing to the blood.

“I…” Swan started, but stopped. She took a calming breath before starting again. “I had a run in with a local Assassin. It didn’t end well.”

“You knew this was a possibility,” Killian said softly.

“I did. I did know. But I wasn’t… I wasn’t prepared.” Swan closed her eyes and Killian’s heart clenched when he noticed the tears clinging to her lids.

“Swan, it will be all right,” he said, his mind searching for a way to comfort Swan in a way that she would accept.

“No! No, it will not be all right!” Swan shouted, clenching her tunic to her chest. “Jenny was a good woman, a loyal sister-in-arms, and now she’s dead! I killed her and now her body is lying behind a pile of rubbish as I wash her blood from my clothes and she deserves so much better than that!”

Killian watched as Swan’s legs gave way and she collapsed to the floor, her face buried in her hands. Though he knew he had a good chance of being slapped for taking liberties, Killian kneeled on the floor next to Swan and pulled her into his arms.

She sobbed against his chest and Killian softly moved his hand up and down her back, trying to sooth her in the same manner Milah had done for him when his past had become too much for him to bear. He said nothing, knowing no words would help. So instead, he hummed the melody of one of his favorite sea shanties.

After a time, Swan’s sobs quieted and she sagged against him. Killian got his legs underneath him, placed his arm into the crook of Swan’s knees and with a heave, lifted her from the floor. It took only a few steps for him to reach the room’s bed and he carefully laid her down. Swan stirred when he removed her boots and tucked her beneath the bed’s duvet, but did not wake from her grief-induced slumber.

“Rest well, love,” Killian whispered as he bent down and placed a soft kiss on Swan’s forehead. He knew he shouldn’t have, since Swan wouldn’t have allowed it if she had been awake, but he couldn’t resist. Despite only knowing Swan a few weeks, Killian realized that he was slowly falling for this amazing woman.

Chapter 6

#Assassin's Creed: Misthaven #CSBB #CS FF #CS Fanfic #Captain Swan #AC:M

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