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hollyethecurious · 1 year

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CS AU: The Law of Surprise (3/3)

Summary: The Law of Surprise: a custom as old as humanity itself. The Law dictates that a man saved by another is expected to offer to his savior a boon whose nature is unknown to one or both parties. In most cases, the boon takes the form of the saved man's firstborn child, conceived or born without the father's knowledge.

A/N: This is NOT a Witcher AU. The idea for this fic WAS inspired by the show, however. I’m not sure if the Law of Surprise was a show/game creation or if it existed before. Regardless, this fic is my spin on the concept and will be posted in three parts.

Much love and thanks to the @cssns mods for keeping this event going year after year! A HUGE shout out to my artist @eastwesthomeisbest for the AMAZING pieces she made to accompany my fic. Go give her ALL the flails! Finally, all the hot chocolate, rum, and grilled cheese sandwiches for my amazing betas @ultraluckycatnd and @kmomof4. LOVE YOU LADIES TO BITS!

Rated T / Also available on ao3 and ff.net / buy me a coffee / add to tag list / Curious? Come Ask Me!

Part One | Part Two

Part Three

The castle was brimming with life and gaiety. Orchestral sounds spilled over the balconies and light seeped from every window, illuminating the stone walls and bathing the gardens in an exuberant glow. If he’d had to guess, Hook would estimate the overflow from the ballroom to be in the hundreds as he made his way through the crush of courtiers, adorned in their finery as they eagerly awaited to be announced.

Dukes and earls. Ambassadors and emissaries. Military leaders and loyal sycophants. The creme de la creme of Misthaven and her allied kingdoms were all in attendance - all who had received a royal summons, that is. Hook had witnessed a number of people being turned away at the gate when they had failed to produce the invitation. The exquisitely designed edict with its filigree and gilded letters announcing the event of the century:

The Formal Betrothal Ceremony and Ball between Her Royal Highness Princess Emma of Misthaven and His Royal Highness Prince Neal, Son and Heir of the Dark One.

Not that Hook had received one himself, of course; their Majesties had learned their lesson the last time they’d attempted to share blessed news and an invitation with him. Pan had been serious when he’d meant no interference, though they had underestimated what the evil bastard considered as such until he’d enticed most of the Misthaven male youths away from their beds and nearly to their deaths over one of the kingdom’s cliffs, because the sovereigns had dared to have an envoy deliver him news of the arrival of their second child - a son. When David and Hook had confronted Pan before he could lure the boys to their deaths, the demon brat had made it clear that any communication, any interaction, any attempts to maintain or strengthen relationships between Misthaven and “his pirate” would be seen as a breach of contract and met with severe penalties. After that, Hook had once again kept his distance from Misthaven, and Misthaven had kept its distance from him. So, naturally, Hook did not fault them for failing to send him an invite to tonight’s festivities. They could not possibly have known that circumstances were different now.

A fact Tink kept nagging on about these past few months.

Months they had spent attempting to set things right in the wake of Neverland’s liberation. Months they had spent establishing authority and restoring order while dealing with uprisings from those still loyal to Pan. Months Hook had spent ferrying those who had wished to return to their homes, not knowing if one even still existed for them, as he warred with himself over the prospect of returning to his own.

It had been the news of Emma’s betrothal that had started the quarrel with Tink up again. Enjoying a pint in a dark corner of anonymity whilst patroning a tavern in Glowerhaven, they’d heard the toasts and cheers go up wishing the princess and “her prince” well. The Dark One’s son wasn’t truly royalty, of course, but none were fool enough to challenge the title.

While the other patrons had reveled in the news of the betrothal, their spirits high from the glee of gossip and tankards of toasts, Hook had sat with a weighty stone of despondency in his belly even as he’d tried to muster up some semblance of jubilation over the news.

“You must go to Misthaven,” Tink urged. “You have to tell them. Tell her. You can’t let her enter a betrothal or get married without--”

“Do you think I would interfere in her life now?” Hook replied through grit teeth. “Burden her with this… with me, when she has finally found happiness?”

“How do you know it is true happiness she has found? The Law of Surprise entrusted her to you. Gave you the responsibility and privilege of her destiny. You cannot sit by and allow her to--”

“To what?” Hook snapped. “To decide for herself? To pursue a destiny she has chosen? To fall in love and follow her heart while making alliances that will strengthen her kingdom and secure her reign? I am not her lord and master, nor am I her overseer.”

“No. You are not,” Tink said softly. “But you are fated to her. Bonded to her through the Law. Connected in a way she isn’t even aware of, because you haven’t allowed her to know. You owe her the truth before she establishes new bonds with another.”

Hook scoffed, but tapped the ring on his thumb against his tankard as he considered her words.

“At the very least,” Tink continued, “go see her. Before she is whisked off to the Dark Realm to prepare for her new life as Neal’s wife and future Queen of the Dark One’s subjects, go meet her. Make sure it is for love that she has chosen this path, and not out of a sense of duty or obligation. Slake your curiosity of who she has become and give yourself the peace of knowing that in spite of everything, she turned out well.” Hardening her gaze, she added, “And for the sake of all the gods, stop being a coward and go face your brother.”

He hated when the infernal fairy was right.

It was cowardice that had kept him from returning. Fear of having to divulge all he’d done in order to achieve his freedom, the lengths he’d had to go to and the ways in which he’d made Pan believe he’d broken him before finally being able to…

Afraid that there was no longer a place for him among society. Terrified over the prospect that, despite Neverland’s magic and the way it had kept him youthful, his life had already passed him by. Petrified to face the girl he’d been meant to watch over, daunted by the uncertainty of how she might react if he ever managed to work up the nerve to tell her the truth about him, about the Law of Surprise, about the fate’s design that had bonded them to one another before she was even born.

Tink had been right, though. He could not give in to cowardice, so he’d commissioned a new waistcoat and duster, one befitting a gentleman pirate paying court, and made port in Misthaven the evening of his princess’ betrothal ball. His lack of an invitation was no issue with the guards at the gate, he’d merely flashed them his hook and they’d allowed him entry, certifying that the king’s pardon of Hook’s crimes and promises of sanctuary within Misthaven still stood. Though Hook did feel it prudent to tuck his left arm behind his back, beneath his quilted, leather coat whilst in the receiving line, lest one of the guests glimpse it and start a fuss.

He wasn’t sure if it was the maddening wait, the stifling corridor, or the crowd of plumed and perfumed guests that began to grate on his nerves, spiking his anxiety and forcing him to withdraw from the ballroom hall. All he knew was that he’d suddenly found himself in a dark and isolated alcove around the corner from the crush, attempting to steady his breathing while muttering curses at himself for falling apart over something as simple as queuing for a ball.

“Is everything alright, good sir?”

Hook spun around, once more tucking his hook behind his back while his hand swept through his hair in an attempt to straighten his appearance. He stood in stupified silence for several skips of his heartbeat, too stunned by the gorgeous woman before him, until he finally cleared his throat and found his voice.

“Aye, lass,” he replied, unable to keep some of the awe out of his tone. “No need to concern yourself with me.”

The woman, young, blonde, with a slender form that did not fail to fill out the curves of her gown while demonstrating the strength he could detect beneath her proper posture, cocked her head to one side, her seaglass eyes narrowing at him even as a smile slightly tugged at the corners of her exquisite lips, rebutted, “A man hiding away in the shadows is a bit concerning, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I suppose so,” Hook conceded with a slight chuckle. Taking a step forward so she could get a better look at him, his smile broadened when her eyes widened and swept over his form with similar interest. “Truth be told,” he continued in a low timbre, “I am rather out of practice in the rules of court. It has been many years since I’ve attended a royal ball.”

Eyes snapping back up to his, she schooled her features and lifted her chin. “Have you not escorted someone to attend with you? Have you no one whose company you can rely on?”

Hook sighed wistfully. “My brother is here,” he said, attempting to keep all sense of melancholy or apprehension from his tone, “but I have not seen him in many years. My presence may come as something of a shock, and I do not wish to cast a pall on the evening. I would never wish to tarnish the memory of it for the princess.”

“The princess?” she parroted, her brows arching and achieving heights that nearly matched her voice. “You hold her in high regard then?”

“Aye. Very much.” Thoughts of his Emma, and the maelstrom of emotions they brought with them, made his voice constrict in his throat, making his next words a bit strained. “Though, I have not had the pleasure of her acquaintance since she was a child.”

The woman’s expression shifted, becoming pensive, almost far away, but as quickly as they had taken hold of her features, she shook off whatever thoughts she’d been contemplating. “Well, I highly doubt anything you do could tarnish this night for her.”

“I appreciate that vote of confidence, love.” Killian scratched behind his ear, his hips swinging with another swaggering step forward as he pressed a little too closely for decorum’s liking into her personal space. “I don’t suppose, once I’ve mustered up the courage to make my way into the ballroom, you would consider bestowing me the pleasure of a waltz?”

The corners of the woman’s lips tipped up again, and Hook wondered what it would take to encourage a full smile from her. Not that it mattered. He’d already accepted the challenge.

“Would such a consideration give you the necessary encouragement to face your brother and the court?” she asked.

Boldly, he took her hand and ran his thumb over the backs of her knuckles, murmuring, “Such consideration would give me the encouragement to do a great many things, Miss…”

Her lips parted, the response of her name on the tip of her tongue, when an attendant rounded the corner and jolted them apart with her exclamations. “Your Highness! I have been looking everywhere for you!”

Hook whipped his head from the attendant back to the woman who had snatched her hand from his and taken several steps back.

“Your Highness?” he said incredulously. “As in Her Royal Highness? Princess Emma?”

“I… I,” she stuttered. “I’m sorry, I must…”

“Excuse us, my lord,” the attendant said, encouraging her charge away from the alcove and towards the hallways that led to the royal entrance at the back of the ballroom.

Hook watched her depart, stunned by the realization that the woman with whom he’d been conversing - and was now rather taken with - was none other than the princess. His princess. His Emma. His Child of Surprise who was no longer a child.

He’d known that already of course, that she was no longer a child. More than ten years had passed since he’d last seen her, but as she was escorted down the hallway, briefly taking the opportunity to glance at him over her shoulder with an apologetic smile and a glimmer of attraction in her eyes, the reality of those years hit him full force. His princess was no longer a child, and once the betrothal ceremony was complete, she would no longer be his.

Forgoing the queue, Hook forced his way into the ballroom without being announced and found himself a vantage point where he could observe without taking on much notice. A resurgence of duty and responsibility filled him. He wanted to - no, needed to - weigh the measure of the man his princess was about to bind herself to in betrothal. Needed to know he was worthy of her.

Although, he was quite certain no man ever would be.

As the ballroom began to fill, his vantage point proved to be less than ideal. Unable to clearly see the dais, he started to shuffle his way through the throng as the prince and his father were announced, followed swiftly by Their Majesties and Princess Emma.

He was halfway across the room when the ceremony began, and the heavy weight of regret, knowing he was too late to do anything, pressed down upon him, keeping him rooted to his spot. His heart twisted painfully in his chest. He was about to lose her forever without having the chance to truly know her. He was a fool for wasting these past few months. A damned fool. All he could do now was watch as the prince and princess recited their vows while a fairy wove the betrothal bonds around them with her wand.

His heartache was quickly forgotten, however, when the final binding spell failed, leaving the betrothal void and eliciting a collective gasp from those assembled.

“I… I don’t understand,” the fairy stammered. “The magic should have worked. I… I don’t know what--”

“Clearly, you did something wrong, dearie,” the Dark One accused as he took a threatening step towards the young fairy.

“No,” Emma stated, stepping between her would-be father-in-law and the scared-out-of-her-wits fairy. “She didn’t. The magic failed to bind us, because…” Turning her attention back towards her would-be groom, Emma declared, “as I have told you numerous times, I have no intentions of marrying you. I don’t care about the deal our fathers made in order to end the war. My heart will never be yours, therefore no vows I make to love you will ever be true.”

Chaotic murmurs erupted throughout the ballroom, but Hook kept his focus on the dais.

“That matters not!” the Dark One shouted, pointing an accusing finger at Emma which made Hook’s hand itch for the hilt of his sword, unfortunately left behind on his ship. “Your feelings have no bearing and are not enough to void the betrothal spell.” Casting his ire upon King David and Queen Snow, he demanded, “Explain yourselves! We made a deal! You agreed to this betrothal on your daughter’s behalf. It is your word and your authority over her that binds that agreement, so why did it fail?”

Hook sucked in a startled breath. He knew why.

“I think I can answer that, and settle this matter,” he called out, causing all eyes to fall on him.

“And who might you be?” Prince Neal demanded.

“Captain Killian Jones,” he proclaimed, stepping forward as the crowd parted. “Though some have taken to calling me by my more colorful moniker.” Raising his left arm, he displayed his hook and a hysteria of murmurs further erupted amongst the crowd that was now cowering away from him.

David and Snow’s mouths dropped open and Liam, who had been standing by off to the side of the dais, rushed forward and took his place next to his sovereigns, a look of complete elation and shock coloring his aged face. The fairy fled, leaving Emma, Prince Neal, and the Dark One alone at the center of the raised platform, each of them staring at him with a variety of expressions.

“Hook!” Prince Neal exclaimed, before catching the eye of the many guards stationed along the walls. “Seize him!”

When none of the guards acquiesced to the command, an incensed and clearly alarmed Prince Neal sputtered, “W-Why are you all just s-standing there! Arrest him!”

“Oh, you must not be aware,” Hook said, swaggering his way towards the dais and stopping short of its steps. “You see, I have pardon in this land.”

Turning his incredulity and ire towards the King, Prince Neal opened his mouth, but was silenced by the quiet yet dangerous tone of the Dark One’s question.

“How, pray tell, do you plan to settle this matter, Captain?”

“By claiming that which was owed me the day I saved King David’s life and he vowed to honor me with a boon, dictated by the Law of Surprise.”

“A boon? What boon?” Emma demanded.

With confident, measured steps Hook made his way up to the top of the platform and stood in front of his princess, his body strategically placed between her and his new adversaries. His eyes captured hers and he knew they were crinkling in the corners as he smiled down at her.

“Don’t you know, Emma?” he murmured softly. “It’s you.”

Confusion and outrage flashed within her seaglass eyes and displayed themselves through each feature of her exquisite face. Though her reaction, not being what he’d hoped for, sliced through him, he could do nothing about that now, not when a fresh round of threats was being issued by the Dark One and his spawn.

“We had a deal!” the Dark One bellowed. “Your daughter’s hand in marriage to my son in exchange for me ending your war with George! You made a deal--”

“Which they have kept in good faith!” Hook roared, rounding on the imp and causing his son to stumble backwards. “They have prepared and presented the princess for betrothal, and Emma herself recited the vows, even as it went against everything she wished for herself. It is not their fault the fates did not bind the agreement. If you wish to lay declarations of war at anyone’s feet, then let it be mine, but I warn you…” Stepping closer, Hook loomed over the Dark One and in a timbre of hushed menace, he advised, “do so at your own peril.”

The Dark One’s eyes narrowed, perhaps sensing something about the man who stood before him that he had not registered before. Beside him, Prince Neal scoffed.

“Are we to be threatened by the likes of you? You are nothing but a filthy pirate.”

Hook grinned darkly and rocked back on his heels, tucking his thumb in his belt. “A few months ago I was nothing but a filthy pirate, but today,” hardening his expression, he declared, “I am Neverland’s King, and you do not want Neverland as your enemy.”

The Dark One visibly started, but the Prince merely snorted. “Neverland has no king.”

Keeping a calculating eye on the Dark One, Hook shrugged and addressed Neal with a casual air. “True. I never understood, with all his theatrics, why Pan had never outright declared himself king, but make no mistake…” The hard edge returned to his tone and countenance, “Pan ruled that island as a dictator king with an iron scepter and a crown of cruelty not even George could have dreamed of matching. Now that Pan’s dead,” the Dark One’s head snapped towards him, seemingly pulled from his thoughts with a number of questions swirling behind his dark gaze, “Neverland is under my rule. The island, its inhabitants, and…” Hook flicked his wrist and the entirety of the ballroom gasped when a jar of glittering dust appeared in his hand, “its magic. They all serve me now, so I say again. You do not want me as an enemy.”

Shrewdly, the Dark One scrutinized the jar in Hook’s hand, then inquired, “What, then, do you propose we do? The terms of the deal have not been met. I ended the war with King George. A debt is still owed.”

“Indeed,” Hook replied, holding out the jar towards the Dark One. “And I believe this canister of pixie dust is more than sufficient in settling that debt.” Hook pulled the jar back when the prince made an attempt to take it. “So long as you promise that accepting it means no further repercussions. Misthaven is safe from any further threats or acts of retaliation from you, and Emma is free to find love and happiness with whomever she chooses. Agreed?”

“Agreed.”

“Papa, no!” Prince Neal protested. “You can’t just--”

“I can, and I have,” the Dark One clipped in a tone of censure before snatching the jar from Hook’s hand. Addressing the King and Queen, he confirmed, “Our deal has been satisfied. My son and I will now take our leave, but heed this… do not call upon me for aid ever again.”

“We won’t,” King David assured him. His eyes cut to Hook’s, relief and gratitude swimming within their depths, but before he could make any further statements another round of gasps rippled through the ballroom as the Dark One and Prince Neal were enveloped in a plume of dark smoke and vanished.

A heavy exhale fell over Hook’s lips and he stood, frozen, in the gazes of his friends, his sovereigns, his brother, and… his Emma.

“It’s you,” she said, her expression and voice void of any inflection he could identify as her eyes seemed to look past him to that far off place he’d seen her subconscious go when they were alone before. “You’re… him. We’ve… we’ve met before.”

“Aye, Your Highness,” he hedged. Her demeanor and lack of response to all that had just transpired made him hesitant to push her too far, too fast. “Moments ago in the corridor--”

“No… no, that’s not. I mean…” Her eyes refocused on him with a mixture of awe, disbelief, and something that hadn’t quite made its way to the surface yet swirling through their verdant beauty as she whispered, “It’s you, isn’t it? The man from my… you’re him.”

“Him… who?”

“My pirate,” she exhaled, stunning Hook to his core as she lifted a chain that had been concealed beneath the high neck of her white gown. Dangling from the delicate links was a familiar looking pendant. The seashell he had gifted her - after she’d plucked it from his desk, the little thief - he realized. The far off look returned as she murmured, “Not a day has gone by that I have not thought of you.”

His heart swelling, Hook elated, “Good,” and took a step towards her. The action, like all his actions since he’d revealed himself, was not met with the response he’d been hoping for.

Taking several steps back from him, Emma rounded on her parents and shouted, “You lied to me! You made me think it was all in my head! You knew! You knew why I felt so… wrong, so deficient. So… broken. My entire life I’ve… You knew about him all this time and you never--”

“You mustn’t blame them, love,” Hook insisted. “It’s not their fault. I made your mother promise never to tell--”

“Perhaps we should take this discussion elsewhere,” Snow said, making them all acutely aware of their audience. The societal vultures practically circling in anticipation of the feast such morsels of scandal might provide.

“That won’t be necessary,” Emma seethed. “There won’t be any more discussion, because I’m not interested in anything any of you have to say!”

Hook gaped when she raised her hand, calling forth magic to transport her from the ballroom in a plume of white smoke.

“She has magic?”

“She’s the product of True Love. Of course she has magic,” the Blue Fairy replied with a terse and exasperated tone, having made her way onto the dais to address her sovereigns and offer her assistance. “Your Majesties, perhaps it would be best for you to withdraw with the… captain, whilst the other fairies and I tend to your guests?”

“Yes,” Snow agreed. “Thank you, Blue.”

Hook followed his sovereigns and brother to an adjoining room where they could converse and continue their reunion in private, though none of them seemed to know where to begin.

“I think I ought to go and check on Em--”

“No,” Hook said, cutting off Snow. “Leave her be. She’s had a terrible shock and no doubt needs some time to work out all that’s…”

They stood there awkwardly for a moment more until reality set in. They were here, together, reunited at last, and in a synchronized heartbeat they suddenly found themselves in a united embrace, laughing and crying tears of joy and relief at finally having the nightmare of separation behind them.

“Admit it,” Hook demanded of David, wiping the vestiges of his emotional release from his eyes. “You were hedging your bets when you made that deal with the Dark One. You suspected The Law of Surprise would void it when the time came, didn’t you?” Turning towards his brother, Hook surmised, “That’s why you wouldn’t let me relinquish my claim and bestow it upon you.”

Sheepishly, Snow admitted, “Blue was the one who suggested the idea. We could not be sure, though, given your… uncertain future under Pan’s rule.”

“Speaking of,” Liam chimed in. “However did you manage to defeat the little bastard?”

“It’s a bit of a sordid tale,” Hook told them. “And one I do not wish to relive in detail. Suffice it to say, I managed to gain a certain amount of trust with Pan, which allowed me close access to him. Revealing some of his weaknesses. One of them being… squid ink.”

Liam led them over to the settees and they all sat down as he remarked, “Squid ink is no easy substance to obtain.”

“Aye,” Hook affirmed. “Fortunately, whilst on one of my missions for Pan, I ran into a mermaid who wished to leave her life in the sea behind. In exchange for safe passage, and because she felt bad for nearly crashing my ship upon rocky shoals when she enchanted me with her siren song, she gave me the squid ink she’d stolen from her father’s vault. Tink and I used the ink to subdue Pan.” Fiddling with his hook, he cast his eyes towards the floor as he confessed, “My hook did the rest.”

“And Pan’s death gave you… magic?”

“Not exactly.” Hook pulled back the sleeve of his right arm, exposing the cuff secured to his wrist. “This does,” he said, tapping it with the side of his hook. “It was Pan’s. He was never without it. I learned that it tethered the Shadow to him, acting as a conduit to the island’s power which he could then bend to his will. At first, I had no desire for it, but its use became necessary in order for me to begin to set things right.”

Hook told them how he and Tink had spent the past few months: squashing rebellions from those on the island still loyal to Pan, learning about the island’s magic while working with the Shadow to restore balance to her shores, and returning those he’d brought there under Pan’s order against their will.

“There is still much to be done, but when I heard about Emma’s betrothal, I…” Not wishing to tell anymore half-truths, or admit that the news of her betrothal had not been enough without Tink’s prompting, he let his words trail off. He hadn’t shared with them his misgivings in returning, allowing them to believe these other distractions had been the reason for his delay, causing guilt to churn in his gut as he sat amongst them.

“Where is Tinkerbell?” Snow asked, perhaps sensing the shift in his demeanor.

“She remained behind in Neverland,” Hook replied. “Awaiting further orders.”

“Further orders?” David parroted. “What more could you ask of her?”

“Not from me,” Hook assured. “From Blue.” Glancing down at the cuff on his wrist, he imparted, “The island should go to the fairies. They are the only ones who can truly wield and balance its power. I have no wish to be its sovereign forever, but...”

“But?”

Hook sighed. “All magic comes with a price, and the price of using this cuff is that it cannot be removed unless both the wearer and the island agree to its removal.” A wry smile pulled at the corner of his mouth and he cheekily added, “or unless the wearer is dead and no longer has a say in the matter.”

“I don’t…” Liam floundered. “I don’t understand what you--”

“The island won’t let me relinquish my connection with its magic,” Hook said. “After Pan, I believe it finds me preferable and won’t risk falling into the wrong sort of hands again. My hope is that the fairies might be able to convince the island to free me of the obligation, which is one of the reasons Tink remained there. To continue working towards that end until reinforcements arrive.”

“Well,” Snow said, standing and causing the men to follow suit. “That is something we can certainly discuss in greater detail tomorrow. For now,” she turned to her husband and with a firm, yet regal, look, declared, “we really must return to our guests and assure them that all is well.”

“Of course,” David agreed. “You’re right. The gossip mill is no doubt having a field day and our allies deserve whatever reassurances we can give them.”

“My apologies for creating a spectacle.” Hook gave his sovereigns a chagrined and contrite look, but they quickly waved off his self-condemnation.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Snow assured him.

“Snow is right,” David asserted. “Without you, we’d likely be preparing for war with the Dark One. You saved us… again.”

Hook grinned and nonchalantly scratched behind his ear. “I imagine another boon might be in order then?”

David shot him a less than amused look. “I’m not granting you another Law of Surprise, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“Though we do not plan to have any more children, I agree with Charming,” Snow said, a hint of amusement coloring her words. “Once was more than enough.”

Hook sobered at the reminder of his Emma, and the mess he’d made of things between them.

“You owe me nothing,” he said. “It isn’t as though I’ve lived up to the last--”

“Enough of that,” Snow admonished. “I know things may not have gone as you’d hoped with Emma, but tomorrow is a new day. Let me have a room made up for you, and tomorrow we can all--”

“Thank you, Snow, but I think I’d rather return to my ship.” When Liam opened his mouth to protest, Hook assured him. “I’ll remain in port. I won’t leave without discussing the matter with you first, I just… I need…”

“Much has changed for you, too, little brother,” Liam acknowledged.

“Aye,” Hook admitted. “Freedom is not something I’ve had much practice with, and I’m still getting my bearings. Still trying to decide what I want to do with my life.”

“You know you always have a home here, right?” David said, placing a heavy hand upon his shoulder. “A place to belong.”

“I appreciate that, Your Majesty,” Hook said, hoping his eyes reflected just how much that fact meant to him. “But do you honestly think things can go back to how they would have been if you’d never sent us to Neverland? Or if we’d all managed to return from the accursed mission?”

David flinched and his features twisted into an expression of guilt and regret.

“Don’t misunderstand,” Hook said, now placing his own hand on his sovereign's shoulder. “I do not blame you. I have never blamed you, but let’s not pretend I can just take my place within your navy and serve as captain of one of your ships. For one, I am no longer a man who takes orders from others willingly, and two… what crew would wish to serve under the likes of me? A pirate. A blackguard.”

“No one is suggesting we pretend the past twenty years did not happen,” Liam said. “There is much to work out, much to resolve and decide upon. For you… and for Emma.”

David’s expression shifted and he now regarded Hook in a way the pirate had never experienced before. Not as his sovereign, nor as his friend, but as a father. A rather protective father. A protective father who might have just registered the charged interactions the pirate and his daughter had shared in the ballroom.

“Indeed,” the man said with a slightly hardened edge on his words. “Perhaps we should have a talk about your intentions with my daughter.”

“Charming,” Snow scolded, saving Hook from having to respond. “Now is not the time.” Squaring her shoulders and taking up her regal posture, the queen declared, “While these matters are all important and worthy of our time and thoughtful consideration, the more pressing issue awaits us in the ballroom.” Fixing her eyes on Liam, she continued, “David and I will need your diplomacy in dealing with our allies. You and the fairies are our ambassadors for the duration of the event.” Shifting her attention to Hook, she offered, “You are welcome to stay, however, it may be best if--”

“If it is all the same to you, Your Majesty,” Hook interrupted, “I think I’d prefer to take my leave for the evening and return to my ship.”

Giving him an acquiescing nod, Snow replied, “Very well. Let us all get through this evening and get ourselves as restful of a night’s sleep as we can. We will then reconvene tomorrow.”

“And Emma?” Hook inquired.

Snow and David shared a quick look of solidarity, then confirmed with a glance towards Liam before affirming, “We will leave her be, for now. As you requested.”

Their silent recognition and acceptance of his sovereignty in Emma’s life both relieved and disquieted him. He’d meant what he’d said to Tink about not being her lord and master, but he would not hesitate to advocate for her if he felt those around her were not acting in her best interest. She needed time. They both did.

“Then I shall bid you all a good night,” Hook said, not waiting for them to reciprocate before transporting himself back to the Jolly Roger in a swirl of crimson, in dire need of a refuge where he himself could process all that had come to pass this evening.

~/~

Hook’s jaw cracked from the wide yawn he released early the next morning, his body stiff and feeling its true age as he went about his normal routine, shuffling through his cabin in naught but his skin. He’d managed to pull on his leather pants, leaving them loosely tied around his waist, when he heard a voice drifting towards him from the dock.

“Ahoy! Captain, are you there?” a woman’s voice softly called out. From the tentative tone and reserved volume, he could tell she was trying to draw as little attention to herself as possible. It mattered not, though. He’d know that voice anywhere.

Hastily, Hook pulled on his shirt, a few of the buttons he kept fastened in the front slipped free from their closures, leaving his chest completely exposed. Forgoing his boots or even bothering to check the state of his hair, he rushed from his quarters and onto the deck, stopping short at the sight of his Emma standing atop the gangplank, just shy of the deck. The morning sun bathed her in an ethereal glow, silhouetting her form, which was adorned in her riding apparel, hugging her curves and highlighting her shapely legs in a way that had Hook glad he’d left his trousers loose.

Shaking those thoughts from his mind, Hook continued to approach her, only now taking in her observations of him. Rather wide-eyed and pinked cheeked observations, he noted with a self-satisfied smirk.

“Princess?” he said, pulling her from her own thoughts, his breath catching at the way she wet her lips before clearing her throat.

“I apologize for arriving so early and unannounced,” she said, straightening her posture before inquiring, “Permission to come aboard, Captain?”

Hook grinned and closed the space between them with swaggering steps, holding out his hand to assist her. “Permission granted, Your Highness.”

When her feet hit the boards of the deck they stood there for a long moment, her hand still tucked in his as she took in the sight of his ship. When her gaze lifted to the mainsail a shudder ran down her spine. Though he was unsure how much she remembered from that night long ago when she last stood there, Hook was certain he knew what had caused her response.

“I sent him back,” he assured her, his voice low and soft.

“Who?”

“The Shadow. He’s the reason the sail is typically black, but I won’t need him until it is time for me to return to…”

Sensing this topic made her uneasy, his words trailed off and she pulled her hand from his. Noises from further up the dock grabbed their attention momentarily and Hook caught sight of her horse hitched at one of the posts, alone.

“Did you come here unaccompanied?”

“Yes,” she replied, uneasiness once again taking hold of her tone and demeanor. “I hadn’t planned it. I was out for my morning ride, clearing my head when…” Looking about she asked, “Is there somewhere we could go? Somewhere more private where we might converse?”

“Of course,” he said, not faulting her for not wanting to be seen fraternizing with him. “Follow me, Your Highness.”

He led her to his quarters and stopped at the threshold, allowing her entrance as he hung back. A soft gasp fell from her lips.

“It’s… it’s just as I remembered,” she whispered under her breath, taking in every detail of his cabin. “I thought you were a dream,” she confessed, though he wasn’t certain she was actually talking to him, her gaze far away and her words almost murmured to herself.

“I thought the whole thing was a nightmare.” Her hands skimmed over the top of his desk, pausing at his hook which he’d failed to secure in his brace before going on deck. “The shadow that kidnapped me, the dark island, the glass cage, the boy…” Her eyes flicked up, meeting his as she continued in a whisper, “The pirate.” Wetting her lips, her gaze never wavered even if his did briefly drop down to her mouth. “You’re real. You were real all this time.”

“Aye.”

Picking up his hook, she turned it over in her hands. “This is the hook you used to attach yourself to the barrel? The one my mother later gifted you?”

“How did you know--”

Setting it down she leaned back against his desk and let out a heavy breath. “I talked with them last night,” she told him. “My parents. After the ball, I demanded they tell me everything.” Her gaze dropped for a moment, then her eyes snapped up to his, determination shining from their depths. His princess was on a mission for the truth. “Did you really not know of my existence until Pan had…”

“No,” he confirmed. “I had no idea the King and Queen had a child, nor that the child was the fulfillment of the Surprise your father had granted me until Pan kidnapped you.”

Nodding her head in acceptance of his word her demeanor shifted slightly, her shoulders relaxing and her gaze softening.

“I want to apologize for the way I behaved last night,” she said. “How I reacted when you…” Her contrite expression gave way to one tinged with anger as she continued. “The morning after Neverland, when I woke up, everyone acted as though it hadn’t happened. My being kidnapped. My parents insisted I had dreamt the whole thing, even Blue made me think I’d…” Her hands gripped the edge of his desk, her knuckles turning white as she continued to lean against it for support, and it took everything within him to not go to her and offer himself as an anchor for her feelings of hurt and betrayal. “My whole life I have been sheltered, not allowed to make decisions for myself, feeling as though something… vital was missing from my life, yet unable to seek it out. Made to feel as though I were mad, because of this dream that would not leave me.”

Swallowing hard, she glanced around his cabin once more before her eyes fell shut. A deep breath filled her chest, followed by a cleansing exhale. When she opened her eyes the anger was gone, but a sadness lingered. Hook would do anything to alleviate it, but he knew she was not finished. There was still so much she needed to work through, to process, to accept, and he would give her the space to do all of it.

“Last night,” she carried on, “when the betrothal bond failed, I truly thought it was because my vows had been a lie. I thought I was standing up to Neal and his father, taking control of my destiny for the first time in my life, only to discover my future was never my own to control, because of another agreement my father made before I was even born.”

Hook winced. “I am sorry, Princess. Truly.” Pushing off from the doorway where he’d been leaning against the jamb, Hook took a few steps into the cabin, stopping at the corner of his bunk. “It was never my intention to leave you feeling powerless or alone. If I could go back, I’d--”

“You don’t have to apologize,” she said, her voice sincere and her eyes full of forgiveness. “You had no way of knowing what the Surprise would be, and with what George did to my mother, who would have ever guessed? I don’t blame you for how my life--”

“You shouldn’t blame your father either, Your Highness,” Hook said in defense of his sovereign. “He had no way of knowing either, otherwise you would never have become my Surprise.”

“True.” She crossed her hands over her chest, a hardened expression once more tightening her features. “The blame belongs to Blue and my mother.”

“What?” Hook balked.

Meeting his gaze, she informed him, “Blue knew about the barrel. She saw it listed on the inventory that was taken when the Jewel made it back with the survivors. They must have put it in the hold when they fished it and you from the sea. Blue could not be sure it had not been corrupted, so she gave the water to my mother without her knowing. It wasn’t until weeks later, when my mother came to Blue worried that something was terribly wrong with her, that Blue confessed what she’d done. She told my mother it was still too early to know for certain and that she should wait to tell my father until she was further along, then later that very same day…”

“He granted me the Law of Surprise.”

“My mother knew he intended to reward you for your bravery and sacrifice, but said she had no idea it would be… Father said it hadn’t even occurred to him to grant it to you until the moment before he declared it. So, no. I do not blame my father.”

Stepping forward, Hook closed the gap between them and took her hand in his. “I will not tell you how you ought to feel, Princess. I just urge you to not let anger and blame linger in your heart for too long. I know what it is like to let such emotions fester, letting darkness creep in and take root in your spirit, giving it a foothold in your soul. Learn from my mistakes, love. Resist it.”

“Why couldn’t you?”

Running his thumb over the back of her knuckles, he softly imparted, “For many years during my first deal with Pan, I didn’t think I had anything to live for. The demon made me a pirate and I became a villain, unworthy of association with people like your parents or my brother. I had resigned myself to a life of exile and wasn’t certain I’d even return to Misthaven, until…”

“Until… what?”

“Until I met you.” How he wished he still had his other hand so he could take both of hers in his grasp, instead, he settled for threading their fingers together. “I wanted to be a better man for you, Princess. I knew Pan would still require a villain, but I was determined to defeat him by any means necessary so that I could take back my own power and control my own destiny.”

“So… what now?” she asked, a soft tremble quaking through her words.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…” she wet her lips, trying her best to hide her trepidations. “Your expectations. You said you returned in order to claim that which--”

“I said all that in an attempt to stop a war from brewing, and so you might be freed from a deal you never wished to be a part of,” he quickly assured her. “I know all too well the perils of making deals with demons, and it is a fate I would not wish upon anyone, least of all you.” Hook lifted their hands and cradled hers against his chest. “I have no expectations of you, love. I only wish to… to try and make up for lost time. To get to know you and have you get to know me. Fate may very well have its own plan, but as far as I’m concerned, whatever we become to one another is as much up to you as it is to me.”

A smile curled at the corners of her lips. “I’d hoped I hadn’t made that up about you,” she said. “I am glad to know you are, indeed, a man of honor and good form… just as I remembered you to be.”

Hook cocked his head to one side, his brows furrowed as he asked, “If you’ve always remembered the kidnapping, then why did you not recognize me in the alcove last night?”

“My memories weren’t… detailed,” she told him. “More like fragments. Impressions.” Looking past him, she began to call forth some of those memories. “I remembered you were a pirate. I remembered the silver fastenings of your waistcoat and the fact that you had dark hair, and I remembered… your eyes. They were probably the most vivid thing about you that I remembered.” Flicking her gaze up to his, she went on to say, “The truth of a person can always be found in their eyes.” Dipping her head, she demurred, “I’ve always been pretty good at knowing when someone is lying to me. It’s always in the eyes. I knew, from the moment I looked into yours, that I could trust you. That you were telling the truth about taking me home. Your eyes told me I’d be safe with you.” Locking her eyes with his, she wistfully admitted, “I’ve thought about your eyes so many times over the years.”

Her cheeks reddened and she suddenly could not meet his gaze. Hook wondered what other thoughts she might have had about her dream pirate as she grew older, but held back from making a saucy quip, allowing her to move past him towards his bookcase. Truth be told, he could do with a bit of space between them as well.

“My parents tell me that though you are finally free of Pan, there are still loose ends for you to tie up in Neverland.” Distracting herself she focused her attention on the contents of his shelves, picking through the books and lifting the lids on a few of the boxes. “Once that is done, what do you intend to do with your newfound freedom?”

“Honestly?” Hook exhaled heavily. “I’m not sure.” A tinkling melody filled the room when she lifted the top of what turned out to be a music box, hastily letting it fall shut before turning apologetic eyes towards him.

“Sorry,” she muttered, running her hands down the front of her riding jacket before clasping them in front of herself. “You were saying?”

Hook chuckled, then sobered a bit when he remembered what he was about to reveal. “I was saying, I’m not sure what I’ll do once my duty to Neverland is complete. I would like to return to Misthaven, I just… I’m not certain I have a place here any longer.” Fiddling with a few of the items on his desk, he added, “Of course, there are people here whom I wish to build relationships with.”

“Like your brother?”

“Aye,” he replied, lifting his gaze towards her. “Among others.” He paused, hoping she knew she was at the top of those considerations. “I have missed so much, and while I realize he is now old enough to be mistaken as my father, Liam is the only family I have left.” They both shared a quick laugh over that observation before he declared, “I do not want to miss any more of his life, or anyone else’s of importance to me.

Emma hummed, her eyes cast down towards her feet, perhaps unable to meet his gaze because of the intensity of it. “I’d imagine you’d want the chance to get to know his wife and your nephews as well.”

Her words rocked Hook to his core. “What?”

Emma’s head snapped up, her eyes widening and her jaw dropping from the realization. “I’m so sorry! I thought… I thought you knew!”

Hook slumped down on the edge of his bed, a new sense of melancholy and injustice washing over him as he ran his hand through his hair and pulled at the strands in the back. “How long has he… how old are his… why did he not…”

“They’ve been married almost ten years, and have two sons. Her name is Belle and she’s…”

Emma paused when Hook buried his face in his hand. So much time wasted. The toll of the years Pan had stolen from him never seemed to cease in its increase.

The sound of the music box filled his cabin once more, prompting Hook to look up from his sorrows. Tentatively, Emma approached.

“I wish there was something I could do about the time that was taken from you and your brother. I wish I had words of wisdom or answers that might guide you towards what’s next, but I don’t. All I can do in this moment is… make good on a promise I gave you last night.”

Confused, Hook could only stare at her, until she clarified, “I believe I owe you a waltz?”

Hook huffed out an amused breath. Reaching up he pawed at the patch of skin behind his ear and confessed, “I know I instigated that, but truth be told… I haven’t danced a waltz in over twenty years.”

“Well,” she replied, clearly not letting him off the proverbial hook. “Good thing for you there is only one rule.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet before wrapping his braced arm around her waist. Taking his hand in hers she flicked up her gaze and murmured, “Pick a partner who knows what they’re doing.”

She took the lead until muscle memory returned, then Hook glided them around his cabin, holding her close and marveling at how she’d been able to pull him from his sulliness with such a simple act of kindness.

His Emma was a marvel, to be sure.

“Do you, Princess?” he asked, causing her brows to pinch together as her head tilted to one side. “Do you know what you’re doing?” he clarified, his voice low and hushed, wanting to keep the moment tender despite the question burning at the back of his throat. “What you are going to do now that the threat of Pan and your obligation to marry Prince Neal has been lifted?”

Chewing her lip, she gave the inquiry her considerations before drawing closer to him. Moving her hand from his shoulder to toy with the back of his neck, she sent a cascade of shivers down his spine as she addressed his question with one of her own.

“Did you know that other than the night I was taken to Neverland, this is the furthest I have even been from the castle?”

That piece of information shocked him, though he knew it should not have. Her existence had been kept a secret for the first half of her life because of George, and the threat of Pan had kept her parents cautious for the past decade. Fear had made his sovereigns hypervigilant with their greatest treasure, so no, it should not have surprised him that they’d kept her close to home, safe behind the castle walls, never straying from the grounds.

“I have never left these shores. Never seen the beauty or experienced the culture of other realms, or met anyone who wasn’t thoroughly vetted by my parents.” Wetting her lips, her eyes fell to the charms hanging around his neck, but Hook knew her gaze was far away once again. “I know I have a duty and obligation to my kingdom, my people, and my parents, but…”

“But?”

Glancing back up with a slight expression of guilt pulling at her features, she murmured, “I can't help but wonder if my brother, Leo, was the fates way of allowing me to… That is… I know I should not wish to burden him unnecessarily, it’s just that--”

“Where would you go first?” Hook asked, still swirling them around his cabin, maneuvering their bodies with the same ease in which he attempted to change the course of their conversation. “If you had the means to go anywhere, where would you go first?”

“Neverland.”

Her quick and unexpected reply had him stopping them in their tracks. “Neverland? Why?”

Once again, she worried her lip, her breath hitching shallowly in her chest. “As much as I long to see the world, the memory of the one time I left Misthaven still haunts me,” she said, her voice a tad unsure at first, though it gained a sense of certainty and resolve as she continued on. “I want to go back so I can face it. So I can put the fear it has held over my life behind me, once and for all.”

When she flicked her gaze up to his, something new stirred within those seaglass depths and the effect of it seemed to hum between them, electrifying the atmosphere of his cabin.

“I want to see what sort of place it is now. With Pan gone. I want to know how it has fared under your rule. How it’s changed due to your influence and direction.” Swaying closer to one another, she was practically a hair’s breadth away when she murmured, “I want to see it for myself in the hopes that…”

“That what?”

Her eyes fell to his mouth and his pulse quickened.

“That it proves that I am… not wrong about you.”

It took his mind several skips of his heartbeat to register the feel of her lips against his, but once it did, instinct took over. His braced arm pressed into the small of her back, bringing her even closer to him, their chests nearly touching with the only obstacle between them being her hand. Her fingers curled through his chest hair, pulling a groan from the back of his throat that vibrated against her lips as his own slanted across them. Threading his fingers through her hair, he wrapped his hand around the base of her skull so he could position her head to his liking, deepening the kiss and coaxing her lips apart with his tongue.

The taste of her was captivating. He could spend the rest of his life drinking her in yet never be satisfied, always wanting more, always needing more… of her. Just her. His Emma.

However, now was not the time for more, and from the gentle, yet insistent, press of her hand against his chest, it was evident that his princess was not ready for what could come next if they continued down this path of passion.

“That was…” he whispered against her lips, chasing them without thought.

“Destiny?” She giggled, her nerves and inexperience quivering through her laugh.

Brushing his nose against hers, he loosened his hold, creating some space between them while assuring her, “As I said before, I have no expectations of you, no expectations for what might happen between us or what we might come to mean to one another. Only… only hope and a promise.”

“What promise would that be?”

“I promise to do whatever it takes to win your heart, Princess. I promise, that for as long as it pleases you, I’ll be here, at your service.” Taking her hand in his, Hook vowed, “I will take you to Neverland, and any other realm you wish to see. I will remain by your side, even if, one day, it is only to stand in support of my future queen.”

“What about Liam?” she said, clearly overjoyed by the prospects he’d laid out whilst harbouring some guilt that their fulfillment would take him away from his brother.

“My brother will be here whenever we choose to return,” he comforted. “Besides… he has his own life to live, and whether he chooses to acknowledge it or not, he’s been shouldering a duty and responsibility he was never meant to carry.”

“Are you suggesting I’ve been burdensome to your brother?” Her tone was laced with offense, but it was betrayed by the teasing expression she could not keep from her features.

“Oh, yes,” he cheeked back, winding his arms around her waist. “Quite the burden you are. How will I ever bear being bonded by the fates to Your Highness?”

“Hmmm,” she hummed, running her palms up his chest then wrapping her arms around his neck. “Perhaps, you could start by calling me by my name, Captain.”

“As you wish… Emma,” he obliged on an exhale.

She graced him with a smile, then asked, “And you? How may I address you? Or do you prefer Captain?”

He wouldn’t deny the pleasure it gave him, hearing her call him Captain, and he was about to make a tawdry statement attesting to that fact when his eye caught a glimpse of his hook, still sitting atop his desk.

“Call me…” he said, his voice choked and barely able to utter the name he’d long abandoned. “Killian. Please, Emma. Call me Killian.”

“Killian.”

The sound of his name on her breath shot a thrill of wonder up his spine. His lips crashed against hers and they both surrendered to the destiny fate had planned for them long ago.

Which, honestly, should not have come as a… surprise.

Thank you all for going on this journey with me! I hope you enjoyed the ride!

Tagging the Curious Crew: (add to tag list)

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merlot-and-chardonnay · 13 days

Text

A Lark Among the Wolves and Dragons: Chapter 67

Masterlist

Chapter 66

Okay, this was probably the longest chapter I have ever done, not just for this book, but probably the longest chapter out of any of my works I have written so far, but there was just so much to get through.

There's a surprise cameo appearance from a witcher character we haven't seen since the earlier chapters, who may or may not also end up being unexpected help. Also I'm incorporating Alicole into this; I know how divisive that pairing was, not exactly a fan of it myself (though it was funny that Alicent had an orgasm for the first time so good for her), but there's a reason for it when you read the chapter.

Also content warning for the Lady of Larks having a PTSD episode and her still dealing with her past trauma. With THAT said, I also have every intention of incorporating Daemon's Harenhall arc at some point in the story and have the ghost of the Lady of Larks haunt the shit out of him, because I want that man to suffer for what he put our heroine through.

------------Street of Silk earlier today------------------

Before the arrival of Prince Aemond from his trip to Storm's End- and that one thing that happened on the way back that Aemond didn't mean to happen, but he couldn't control his dragon- it had been a clear day in King's Landing.

Life was slowly getting back to normal following Aegon's coronation...or as normal as it could be with the threat of a civil war still looming over everyone's heads. There had been rumors that ships carrying the sigil of House Velaryon were making their way to form a blockade in the Gullet to stop ships coming and going into King's Landing; these were rumors that didn't exactly sit well with anyone in the city be they highborn or smallfolk as a blockade implies everyday essentials such as food would soon become scarce.

One could only hope that these whispers were nothing more than baseless rumors and that the potential conflict will soon end before it even begins.

At that one brothel on the Street of Silk, Ana Sand had just started her shift not too long ago, and was in the middle of entertaining a client. The man had just finished chasing his pleasure high and was now laying against Ana, resting his head against her chest. Ana combed her fingers through his hair.

This client was a fascinating figure to Ana; based on his accent, it was clear he hailed somewhere from the Eastern Continent. Apparently he had taken a boat from one side of the Continent that was intended to take up north towards Novigrad, but some storm got in the way and the ship was forced to divert course and take a detour, somehow ending up at the docks of King's Landing.

Though the ship had repaired damages received from the storm, the impending blockade at the Gullet at the hands of the Sea Snake have stalled any ships from leaving port for the time being.

So here this man was, stuck in a place he had never been to and whose customs were completely foreign to him. One thing he was grateful for was that the concept of brothels was a thing in this part of the world, and he had the coin the spare, so he may as well kill some time having fun and getting a little bit of intimate contact while he can.

"When you look the way I do, you take every opportunity that comes at you," the client had told her when she escorted him to a more private space.

Ana was a little confounded by that statement at first; sure the man's face was marred by jagged scars, resembling claws of a feral animal, and his yellow gold eyes might be off putting at first. But even Ana had to admit that in spite of those physical blemishes, the man still had a handsome face, there was no denying that.

Perhaps Continental women weren't the sort to overlook those scars to see that same handsome face she was seeing right now.

Being preoccupied with her client, Ana wasn't aware of how long she had been in this position. She didn't notice when Ivan had walked into the brothel, looking wherever he could when the madam told him Ana wasn't available right now. Initially, Ivan had took that to me that Ana was taking a break from work right now, but surely she could spare a few minutes to speak with him.

The half-elf saw Ana's figure behind some curtain, and he foolishly pulled the curtain back, not expecting Ana to be fully naked on the bed and holding a client in her arms. "Ana, there you are. You won't believe what has- oh my gods!"

Ivan quickly averted his gaze, his exclamation got both Ana and her client's attention directed at him. "Ivan?" "Oh, uh, I'm sorry, Ana," Ivan says, face starting to feel hot from the display before him, "I uh, I didn't realize you were uh, working." "Uh yes I am," Ana says like it's obvious, "I'm sorry, Ivan, I'm still working, you're going to have to wait."

"Right...of course," Ivan dared to turn his gaze to make eye contact with Ana to let her know he understood. But he also turned his gaze to the man and saw the silver wolf medallion that adorned his neck. Eyes wide in shock, realizing what this man was, Ivan backed away, a look of terror in his eyes. "Ivan?" Ana gives a confused look. Ivan said nothing, but turned around and practically sprinted out of the establishment.

"Ivan!" Ana quickly put a robe on, having intent to go after Ivan, but the half-elf was gone by the time she was somewhat decent. Ana pulled the curtain back to see no signs of the elven knight.

The client, a witcher by the name of Eskel, got up, still naked as the day he was born, and look over Ana's shoulder, curiosity written on his facial features, "What is a half-elf doing all the way in this part of the world?"

------------------------------

Ivan sprinted all the way back to the Red Keep. By the time he reached the gates, the half-elf was basically out of breath. He quickly looked around to see no one else was present to see him sneak.

Once in the Kingsguard quarters, Ivan had been quick to shed off his cloak and peasant disguise and put on his armor and white cloak. Checking to make sure his headband was secure, Ivan walked into the corridors to resume his duties.

He was going to have to go see Ana later in the day. Perhaps he should send a message first ahead of time so as to avoid another awkward encounter in the future. Ivan was also concerned about the client Ana had been tending to, recognizing him to be witcher. He wasn't like Geralt, but the medallion suggested that perhaps they know each other or probably move in the same social circles. Ivan did hope this wouldn't complicate things, he hoped this witcher hadn't recognized him to be a half-elf...or if he did, then Ivan hoped this witcher would keep his mouth shut and not out him.

If this witcher was anything like the White Wolf, Ivan had some confidence that he wouldn't have a problem keeping silent.

With these thoughts swirling in his head, Ivan stepped into what he assumed to be a vacant room with hopes of pulling himself together and manage to get through this day. As more time has passed, the threat over Criston revealing Ivan's elven heritage has not blown over; if anything, with the potential conflict between the Blacks and the Greens becoming more and more imminent, Cole had made it clear to Ivan that he best sort out where his true loyalties lie as the man knew Ivan once held some kind of loyalty to Aemma on account that she was the reason Ivan had a place among the highborn after he saved her life six years ago. Cole has been highly suspect of Ivan since Aemma's escape, much so to the point where Ivan barely could barely move two feet without someone watching over him. The only reason he was able to escape to the Street of Silk today was because the same eyes supposedly watching him had been distracted elsewhere. The constant looming threat was starting to get to Ivan to the point where he was convinced everyone was against him, that they all knew his secret anyway, and he was beginning to question his own sanity.

Ivan was now pulled out of his spiraling thoughts by the sounds of someone moaning. It sounded like pleasurable moans, like the kind Ivan has heard at the brothel where Ana works.

Frowning a bit, realizing this room he was in wasn't exactly as vacant as he was expecting, Ivan followed the sounds, being careful to keep his footsteps silent; he peaked his head ever so slightly at one corner of what he assumed to be the washroom.

What he saw was something Ivan did not expect, and the shock on his face said it all.

Ivan saw Criston Cole, devoid of his white cloak and armor- but still kept his undergarments on- was between dowager Queen Alicent's legs, thrusting into the woman with determination. Alicent's mouth was open as she held onto Criston, continuing to moan in pleasure.

Under normal circumstances, Ivan's sex repulsed instincts would've had him doing a 180 and getting the fuck out of there as quickly as possible, like he did with Ana and that witcher she was with. However, the fact that this was the Lord Commander and the Dowager Queen had Ivan more in a state of shock than repulsion at this moment.

Thankfully both Cole and Alicent were too caught up in chasing their highs that Ivan was able to slip away and close the door without making too much of a sound.

Ivan couldn't help but have this wide grin on his face as he walked down the corridor. As Cole once had blackmail over Ivan, now Ivan had something to blackmail Cole.

Surely the threat to reveal that Cole has soiled his white cloak was enough to have Cole resend his threat to reveal Ivan's elven blood to the rest of the Kingsguard.

Right on that cue, Ivan heard a dragon's roar outside. He recognized those roars belong to Vhagar. Which meant Prince Aemond had returned from Storm's End.

-----------------Back to the present: dream sequence----------------

"I want you to put out your eye," Aemond threatens his nephew as he removes the eye patch to reveal the sapphire that replaced the eye Lucerys took from him, "as payment for mine."

"One will serve," Aemond unsheathed his dagger and tossed it to Luke, "I will not blind you. Plan to make a gift of it to my mother."

"....No," Luke said, giving Aemond a defiant look. "Then you are craven as well as a traitor," Aemond says, his rage and anger threatening to bubble to the surface and erupt like a volcano.

"GIVE ME YOUR EYE! OR I WILL TAKE IT, BASTARD!" Aemond charges at Luke, picking up the dagger with the intention to take the boy's eye so as to pay the debt. He had every intention to pay both the debt Luke held regarding Aemond's eye, and he had every intention to make Rhaenyra pay her debt for taking his beloved Aemma away from him.

"Aemond, stop it!" he hears Aemma call out to him. Aemond stopped in his tracks, turning to see Aemma standing there behind him, disappointment showing in her eyes. "Aemma?"

Aemond attempts to reach for Aemma, but her figure faded from existence. Next thing Aemond knew, he sees the scene change to him being in the sky astride Vhagar. Aemond knew exactly what was going to happen next. He tightly grasps the reins and tries to stop Vhagar from retaliating against Arrax for blowing fire at her face.

"No, Vhagar! Daor! Serve me, Vhagar! Dohaeres!" Aemond begs his dragon, but she did not listen. Vhagar climbs higher into the sky where Luke and Arrax were flying, unaware of the older dragon's presence until Vhagar was practically on top of them...right before she tore both rider and dragon from the sky with one chomp of her massive jaws.

"VHAGAR! NO! No..." Aemond looked down in horror to see bits of a wing and other parts of Arrax falling into the waters below. Aemond didn't want to believe this was happening. He didn't mean to kill Lucerys...he didn't want to kill his nephew, he just wanted to scare him, send a message that the boy still owed him a debt. He looked to see chunks of flesh and fresh blood were still present between Vhagar's teeth when she roared. "Vhagar...what have you done?" Aemond whispers hoarsely.

"What did you do?" a familiar yet distorted voice calls out, "Aemond...what did you do?!" Aemond looked to see Aemma floating in the sky, wearing a simple dress as she too turned her gaze to the ground below her, a horrified look on her face at the sight of the carnage that was done. "Aemma-" "What did you do?!" Aemma asks, the horror in her eyes still present, "Aemond, what did you do?"

"I...I didn't mean it, Aemma," Aemond insists, "I only wanted to scare him, I...I didn't want this! I lost control, you have to believe me!" "You killed him..." Aemma says in a hoarse voice, tears falling from her eyes, "you killed Lucerys...he was your nephew, and you killed him." "Aemma, I'm sorry-" Aemond reaches out but Aemma backs away

"You killed him..." Aemma gave a look of rage and sadness, pointing an accusatory finger at Aemond, "You killed Lucerys!" "Aemma-" "HE WAS MY BROTHER! HE WAS YOUR NEPHEW!" dream Aemma shouts, angry tears spilling forth, "YOU KILLED HIM! YOU'RE A KINSLAYER!" "I DIDN'T MEAN IT!" Aemond shouts back, unable to handle the accusations, "IT WASN'T ME! IT WAS VHAGAR! I LOST CONTROL!"

"KINSLAYER!" dream Aemma shouts again, "MONSTER! KINSLAYER! And to think I had even considering being your lady wife." "Aemma...please..." Aemond begs in a hoarse voice, a tear escaping his own eye, "Aemma, please..." he reaches out, but Aemma slaps his hand away. She turns her back and walks towards another figure, who Aemond recognized to be Cregan Stark. "Aemma...no...Aemma, please...don't go, don't leave me. Aemma! PLEASE DON'T GO!" Aemma ignored Aemond's pleas and takes her place at Lord Stark's side, only turning to give Aemond a look of contempt and disgust, "you should've gone after me when I left for Winterfell," she says, "you should've stopped me from leaving...you would've saved yourself from shame..."

The scene fades into complete darkness as Aemond bolts from his bed, breaking out in cold sweat and panting.

The prince looked around realizing that he was back in his chambers in King's Landing. It had all been a dream...

No, it wasn't a dream. Storm's End happened. That encounter with Luke in the castle happened- Aemond demanded an eye from his nephew and Luke refused. Aemond had chased Luke and Arrax on Vhagar across the the Stromlands...and then Vhagar diverted off course to retaliate against Arrax blowing fire in her face.

And we already know what happened after that.

In the aftermath of Luke's tragic demise, Aemond found himself returning to King's Landing, that trip feeling a distant almost illusion, as he spent most of that time processing what he just did...what Vhagar had done. The moment he returned to the Red Keep, Aemond said not a word to anyone, not his brother, sister, mother, grandsire, or even his father figure; Aemond wasn't even aware that the Lady of Larks and her brother were now residing in the Red Keep as Aegon had appointed (y/n) to entertain his children.

All Aemond did was storm into his chambers and shut himself in. He allowed no one inside, not even the servants. Various crashing sounds were heard from the other side of those doors when Aemond attempted to pull himself together, only for his grief and his guilt and his rage to get the better of him and drone his sorrows in whatever wine was available in his rooms and take out his rage on whatever possessions he had in his chambers at that time to the point where he was drunk and exhausted and he fell into his bed, falling in a fitful sleep, haunted by that same nightmare of him killing Luke and Aemma turning her back on him as a response.

Aemond killed his nephew...and once word of that is finally confirmed and spread out to all corners of the Seven Kingdoms, all of Westeros will look upon Aemond as a cursed man- a monster who could blatantly committed the vile sin of kinslaying with little regard.

Aemond sat up on one side of the bed, holding his head in his hands, ignoring the strays strands of his hair that fell over his face. The nightmare still fresh in his mind, Aemond begin to hyperventilate, tears falling from his eyes.

He didn't mean to kill Lucerys. He only wanted to scare the boy and send the message that Luke and his entire family owed Aemond a debt; not just for taking his eye but for taking away the woman he loves...for forcing Aemma to turn against him. And in his blinding, red rage, Aemond lost control of his dragon...and Luke paid the price for that same rage.

The moment he saw the remains of Vhagar's carnage falling into the open waters below-when he saw the ripped remains of Arrax's wings- Aemond knew that any chances of resolving the ongoing conflict peacefully have all but vanished. It was certain that word had finally reached Rhaenyra that her half-brother's dragon tore her second born son and his dragon from the sky while chasing the boy across the Stormlands.

And no doubt Rhaenyra will be seeking recourse in the form of vengeance for this grievous turn of events.

Aemond didn't care about any of that, he didn't give a shit what Rhaenyra will say or try to do to him...all Aemond could think about during his return to King's Landing was what the woman he loves will say once she learns of this tragic event. What will Aemma say when she hears that Aemond allowed his anger to consume him and that he killed her stepbrother as a result? Aemond thought about the argument he and Aemma had the night of the family dinner. When she stormed off after the scene Aemond made with his 'Strong' speech and Aemond stopped her, begging forgiveness for letting his temper get the better of him, he recalled what Aemma had said to him:

"...I acknowledge you have every right to be angry at my stepbrothers, Luke especially, but there was no need for any of that. You could've just let it go.

Aemond remembered scoffing at the sentiment; how was one supposed to let go of having a physical piece of you be taken by force? He also remembered how Aemma still stood by her stance that she was the reason why Aemond lost his eye. "Even if that was the case, you were not the one who brought the knife to that fight!" Aemond exclaimed. "If you didn't threaten to kill Luke with Vhagar, if you didn't take Vhagar from Rhaena, maybe it wouldn't have happened at all!" Aemma shouted back.

Thinking back on it now, Aemond wished he had heeded Aemma's advice to let go of the grudge he held against his bastard nephews and not let it consume him. Had he actually listened, Luke would still be alive, and he wouldn't have jeopardized Aemma's love for him.

He prayed to the Seven that Aemma somehow wouldn't find out, but if she did, than perhaps the Maiden or the Mother would move her heart to forgive him and not disavow the love she holds for him... But Aemond knew praying would do no good, not now anyway. He is a kinslayer...and kinslaying is a sin that not even the gods can forgive. Aemond will have to bear that stain on his soul for the rest of his life, nothing could be done to atone for this grievous act.

And once Aemma does hear of this, she will never forgive him; if anything, it very well may drive Aemma away from him into the arms of the Lord of Winterfell...and that alone was more than enough for Aemond to fall into a downward spiral of guilt and self-loathing.

A sudden knock at the door caused Aemond to jolt up, briefly pulling him out of his grim, dark thoughts.

"Go away!" Aemond calls out, not in the mood to be speaking to anyone right now. Apparently whoever was on the other side didn't hear him as his demands were answered with another rap at the door. "I said go away! I don't want to be disturbed!"

"Prince Aemond..." a familiar voice calls out from the other side. "Aemond, it's me, Aemma's mother. Can we talk?" Aemond said nothing, confused as to how the Lady of Larks could be standing at his door at this moment. When did she arrive in the Red Keep? It had to be when Aemond was treating at Storm's End.

Meanwhile, you stood patiently at the door, waiting either for Aemond to open the door and allow you inside, or at least for him to give some kind of permission for you to come in. When Aemond returned from his trip to Storm's End, the prince said not a word to anyone, not even to Aegon who had come to his brother with an air of optimism and expecting that Aemond's negotiations with Borros Baratheon were successful.

Aemond didn't even seem to listen when Alicent informed him of yours and Jaskier's arrival in the Red Keep. All the young man did was storm off to his chambers and shut himself in without so much as an explanation. No one knew what happened or why Aemond was acting like this. The servants had stood at the door, not sure what to do as Aemond had forbid anyone from coming in.

At this point, people were starting to become worried, especially when whispers from the Stormlands began to circulate in the Red Keep of what had transpired outside Storm's End. Rumors having to do with a dragon matching Vhagar's description chasing a smaller dragon and his rider and killing both dragon and rider in the process.

At this point, the only one who could confirm what actually happened was Aemond, and he has yet to come out of his chambers since returning.

You weren't about to get involved initially, as you were only relieved that the dragon and rider that were killed by Vhagar was not Aemma, but Alicent was becoming worried for her son, and Otto was becoming impatient with Aemond's lack of sense to report his mission from Storm's End.

It was Alicent who had urged you to try and coax Aemond out of his isolation. It was clear something had happened over Storm's End and whatever it was, Aemond refused to talk about it. Alicent couldn't reach out to her son, but perhaps you could somehow find a way.

"I know my son," Alicent had said to you, "he's always been a quiet boy, but this is something else entirely. And with the rumors running rampant concerning Storm's End...I don't want to assume the worst of my boy."

You weren't sure what or how you of all people could possibly get Aemond to talk, but you couldn't really turn down a request from the dowager queen. So you stand by the door, having decided to take a diplomatic approach. When Aemond did not respond to your questions, you lean your head against the door, "your mother is worried about you," you point out, "you haven't said a word to her since returning to King's Landing. She wants to make sure you are well, that you...weren't injured from your journey to Storm's End."

You didn't hear anything, aside from the faint sound of footsteps approaching. You see the door open slightly, leaving nothing more than a crack. With nothing more, you take that as your cue to step inside.

The inside of Aemond's chambers was in complete disarray, more so than what you've expected from someone as serious and presumably well-organized as Aemond. But to your surprise you see shattered remains of a valuable looking wine jug on the carpet along with broken plates, cups, and anything else made of glass or clay. There was a red stain on the carpet in the middle of the room, possibly where wine was spilled when the jug was broken. Books and maps were scattered at one side of the room, some of them with bent spines. Various scant decorations were tossed, broken, and everything else in between.

It was more than enough to let you know that Aemond was having a really bad day.

Speaking of Aemond, the prince in question was currently standing by the window, not having said a word since you walked in. You go check on Aemond, seeing his disheveled state, his messy hair, faint tear stains, and the blank stare he had on his face as he looked out the window. You took note that his eye patch was absent, reveling the sapphire that replaced his eye. There was something uneasy about that gaze of his; it was empty, almost akin to a stare you had seen in soldiers in the aftermath of a battle after making their first kill. It was a similar look you had on your face when you killed that Septon the night of your escape from the Red Keep 16 years ago.

This was not a good sign.

"Do...do you want to talk about what happened?" you ask, breaking the silence. Aemond said nothing, but just kept staring, not even making eye contact with you.

What exactly was the prince to say to you of all people? That he killed his nephew? That it was an accident because he lost control of his dragon? You wouldn't understand what that meant. And you being Aemma's mother, what was he to say? That he killed Aemma's stepbrother? That he is kinslayer? And when Aemma eventually learns of this, any chance he had of her being his wife will be long gone. Aemond wasn't too familiar with the various Continental beliefs and customs, but surely the act of murdering one's bloodkin is a social taboo in your part of the world; surely when you learn of the circumstances, you would do everything in your power to keep Aemma away from him, to keep him from being able to call you his Good Mother.

"Talking might help," you press once more, "I...I know it's not healthy to keep your feelings bottled up inside. Believe me, I know that better than most. What exactly happened, Aemond?" Aemond did not turn to face you, but he spoke in a soften tone, "did mother send you?" he asks, almost accusatory, "or was it by my grandsire's command that you were sent to extract whatever information you could from me?"

While you were relieved Aemond was talking, there was something in the change of tone. "Your mother sent me," you tell him the truth, "but with good reason. She's worried about you, as any mother would. And it certainly doesn't help that you remained silent while rumors from Storm's End have been circulating in-" "What rumors?" Aemond finally turned, almost giving you a dangerous look, which took you off guard.

"There are rumors about what happened in the aftermath of you gaining support from House Baratheon," you slowly explain, "that Vhagar-" "That what? That Vhagar decided to ignore her rider in favor of making chase? That she chose to refuse her rider's commands and let her hunting instincts take over in the need to chase what she deemed to be meek prey?" "Uh, no," you simply say, "no one was saying that. You...are the only one who has said that, honey."

Aemond's eye widen in shock, realizing he revealed more than he intended to. He turned his gaze back outside in shame. "Is that what happened?" you press, "Vhagar, she refused to listen to your commands?" Aemond said nothing, but you saw the way he became tight-lipped almost as if he was refusing to answer.

You didn't think it was possible that dragons could refuse commands from their bonded riders, and you wondered if Aemma had similar experiences with Cirillia. But on the other hand, from what you remembered, Vhagar was the oldest and largest of the dragons under the Targaryens' possession; it surely must take a strong will and an iron hand to tame such a beast of her size.

"So you...you didn't want her to kill that little dragon and the rider?" you ask, trying to make sense of what happened back in Storm's End. Aemond once again said nothing. "Aemond, I don't..I can't exactly comprehend what even possessed you to chase a dragon a tenth the size of yours. Seems a little overkill if you ask me...sorry, that was not good wording on my part, I apologize."

Still no answer, so you huff in slight frustration, "fine, don't say anything. Just keep standing there and keep your true emotions bottled up until you implode, for all I care. It will happen eventually, believe me." You were about to turn and leave, but Aemond's soft voice stopped you, "you...you don't know, do you?" he frowns, "the history of this family?" You were confused by that question, "I know the Targaryen dynasty began with Aegon the Conqueror who-" "I meant recent family," Aemond elaborates, slowly approaching you, that same dangerous look in his eye, "Aemma never told you, did she? About what happened during your years apart from her." "I...I know your mother had more children, being you and a younger brother," you tell him, "I know...Aemma's father remarried and had more children. I know your sister Rhaenyra-" "HALF-sister." "Half-sister," you rephrase, "she's had children of her own." "Did your daughter ever tell you what one of them did to me?" He pointed to his sapphire eye for emphasis. The way your eyes widen told him that you didn't know. He also wagered a guess that Aemma never told you of Jace, Luke, and Joffery's true parentage either.

"Rhaenyra had three sons by the late Ser Laenor," Aemond explains, "or so the pretender would insist that everyone believe. But if you ever do get a chance to look at any of the other two, you'll know as everyone else knows that the blood they possess is less Velaryon and more...Strong." You didn't exactly put the pieces together at that moment, but it almost sounded like Aemond was implying that Rhaenyra was not exactly faithful during her marriage to Ser Laenor.

"The one who did this to me was named Lucerys, Rhaenyra's second born son," Aemond continues, "he did this to me that night I claimed Vhagar on Driftmark six years ago. The bastard couldn't handle the truth when I said exactly who and what he was. Aemma will continue to insist she was the reason why my eye was lost, but I know the truth. I know Lucerys brought that knife that night with the intent to kill me, but he failed to do so. Instead, he acquired a debt, one he refused to pay for six years. Until now...until I had Vhagar make him finally pay his debt."

"Are you telling me...that you had your dragon kill your nephew...just because he took your eye when you were children?" "I only meant for it to be an eye for an eye," Aemond admits, tone slowly turning cold, "Had Luke been wise enough to put out his eye to pay for mine, none of this would have happened."

You tilt your head slightly, trying to make sense of what Aemond said. His features had harden like stone at this point, a complete contrast to the man he was when you stepped inside, vulnerable and guilt ridden for the blood he has on his hands. It sounded like Aemond was trying to control the narrative, that he didn't actually lose control, and that he had every intention of killing his bloodkin in an act of vengeance.

But you saw right through the mask Aemond had quickly hid behind. While it wasn't the same, it was a similar mask you had worn yourself when you were struggling with the trauma you endured from your imprisonment on Dragonstone, when you had put up a front of Geralt and the others to let them know you were not damaged or broken from your ordeal.

You knew now that this was nothing more than a front, to not let others see Aemond as weak, weak enough that he couldn't keep his bonded dragon under control, weak enough that he let his emotions get the better of him and acted rashly as a result.

"...I don't believe you," you say bluntly, taking Aemond by surprise, which showed for a brief moment before he slipped his mask back on. "You don't have to," he says, almost sneering, "but that the truth of what happened on Storm's End. You can report that to my mother."

He turned his back on you, but you weren't done. "Aemond-" you attempt to put a hand on his shoulder, but he shoves you back. "Get out," he demands in a warning tone. You don't argue with him, but turn to leave. "What was Aemma's relationship to Lucerys?" you ask as you stand by the door, "what will she say when she hears of this?"

"GET OUT!" Aemond takes a broken clay jug and tosses it at you. You shut the door before it could make contact. You place a hand over your mouth in shock, as that violent action on Aemond's part had triggered a memory of your time in the Red Keep when Daemon returned from the Stepstones. You try to block out that memory, not wanting to think about when Daemon had done similar things when he was angry when you would refuse him, how he would...no, you were not going to go there. You would not let that part of your past consume you again.

Aemond reminded you of Daemon in more ways then either you or even him would care to admit, but it was not his fault that his actions made you feel this way. Aemond didn't know the extent of the damage you've endured...he couldn't be blamed for past harms done to you by others.

You place your hands on your knees and take deep breaths, knowing a panic attack was threatening to overtake you. You look up and verbally list off objects in your periphery in an attempt to ground yourself, a technique you learned from the vampire Regis when he took it upon himself to counsel you through your trauma.

It worked.

Feeling that burden lifted off your shoulders, you stand straight. "Lady Lark?" You practically jump at the sound of Alicent's voice. "Oh, Your Grace," you say with relief, "forgive me for that, you scared me." "I should be asking for forgiveness then," Alicent assures, "...had you garnered any information from Aemond?"

"...I had," you confirm, not sure if you should tell her what you saw...or if you should tell her what Aemond clearly wanted everyone to know. That instead of him killing Lucerys was an accident, he had murdered his nephew in cold blooded revenge. You end up going somewhere in the middle.

"He...he said he killed his nephew Lucerys...because the boy refused to pay the debt that was owed." Alicent placed a hand over her mouth, clearly shocked that her beloved son was capable of something as vile as slaying his own kin, just because he was still sore for something that happened six years ago. "Seven help us all," she murmurs, a stray tear falling from her eye, "...Seven help my son...he is a kinslayer now...nothing will stop this war from happening now..."

--------------------------------

You fast walk to your room, not noticing Jaskier had been trying to get your attention when you walked away.

You hastily close the door behind you, taking deep breaths once more.

This was actually the second time since you've been back to the Red Keep that you were on the precipice of having a full blown panic attack. The first time had been when you first moved into this room after getting settled in. When you initially looked around, you recognized right away it was the exact same chambers you stayed in when you first came to court to be Rhaenyra's personal bard.

The moment you had put those pieces together, the moment you had found yourself staring at the vanity mirror, you flash backed to one particularly unpleasant memory from when Daemon returned from the Stepstones, the day your brother came for you. Through the mirror, you saw yourself fighting off Daemon when he came for you with the intent of having his 'wife' after being away from you for so long, you saw the blood that spilled from his palm when you came at him with your dagger, how unphased he was at the sight before he pushed you onto the bed and violated you. You were quick to back away from the mirror at that time, almost falling over the bed, which sent you hyperventilating as a result.

It was the first time you had to use the grounding technique in years. And today, after your encounter with Aemond, had been your second.

"(y/n)?" your brother knocks on the door before letting himself in, "are you alright? What happened?" "I'm fine...I think...maybe not."

"What happened?" Jaskier takes a step closer, "did...did Aemond do something? What did he say? I swear if that boy-" "Aemond didn't do anything," you quickly assure, "well...not exactly. I...I told Alicent what he told me what happened in Storm's End. Before that he..." "Did he hurt you?" "No," you quickly shake your head, "but what happened after...*sigh*, I may have an...almost panic attack."

Eyes wide, Jaskier goes to pull out the nearest available chair and make it cushion-like before he sat on it. "What are you doing?" "This is what Regis would do when you needed to talk about what you're going through," Jaskier points out, "I know I'm not quite as...well versed in vocabulary as he was, but I still want to help."

Under different circumstances, you would've actually been amused by this gesture, but considering how close you were to having a full blown panic attack- and also given the circumstances of where you were at in this moment- you take a seat on the bed, lay down and tell Jaskier exactly what happened.

"I don't blame Aemond for putting me in that situation," you say, "he doesn't know the extent of what I endured, he couldn't know...but that dangerous look he gave me...it reminded me so much of Daemon."

As angry as Jaskier was about the way Aemond almost hurt you, this wasn't about how he was feeling right now, it was about you and what triggered that panic attack from that interaction. "Well are you going to say it?" you ask. "Say what?" "That you told me so," you huff, "you did warn me not to go on this suicide mission, especially with the possibility that I...that I wouldn't be able to handle it, that...that I wouldn't have those panic attacks." "It was just the one time, we can still work with it." "But it wasn't the first time," you confess, which got your brother's attention right quick. "When...when did the first one happen?" "The first night here. After I was shown to these rooms after...after being away for so long."

You sit up on the bed and approach the nightstand. As you rummage through the drawer, you give Jaskier the details about what happened. "After I got it under control, I found myself here," you say, "and by some miracle...I found this."

You hand Jaskier a simple gold necklace with a silver bird adorned in the center of the chain. "I left that behind," you explain, "the night of our first escape. I uh, I had forgotten about it actually, but somehow it had remained hidden in this nightstand all these years. It wasn't until I discovered it did those...memories come back." "I don't think I've ever seen you wear this one before," your brother points out.

"Because that one was a gift from Daemon," you tell him, which understandably caused Jaskier to drop the necklace. "He gave it to me when we first began our relationship," you explain, "A silver lark attached to a chain of gold. Almost prophetic, with the benefit of hindsight." "I'm a little more surprised you didn't toss this when you found it,"Jaskier admits when he picked up the necklace.

"I tried to," you admit, "I wanted to toss it out. Maybe give it to one of the servants, they could sell it for some money. But I...I couldn't." "It is a beautiful piece of jewelry," Jaskier admits. "It is," you agree, "but...I don't think that's why I kept it."

There was a somber moment of silence before you continued giving your reasoning, "What I had with Daemon...it didn't start off as the nightmare it became. Yes, it wasn't healthy, but...there was something good about it in the beginning. It wasn't love, there was never any love there. But it was fun, and I found a certain...thrill in attempting to tame the dragon. And then it all went to shit the moment he found out about Aemma. I think in some way, when I saw the necklace, I think I kept it because it was my attempt of trying to preserve the good parts of what we had. I think it's my way of trying to make sense of what happened to me, give some kind of purpose so that...the damage I endured wasn't all for nothing."

"You could have found that in your daughter," Jaskier suggests. "I did, I tried," you admit, feeling your eyes grow moist, "When I finally reunited with Aemma and held her in my arms once again, I thought it would be enough. It was the happiest moment of my life when I saw her once again after 16 years. But still when I look at her, even though I can see the woman she has grown into, all I can think about at times is are the years I lost watching her grow into that woman. All those years..." you begin to sniffle, "years that Daemon took from me..." a stray tear escaped, "when he ripped Aemma from my arms."

"Oh, (y/n)..." Jaskier places a comforting hand on your back as you begin to cry, "it's okay, sweet sister, just let it out. "I thought I made my peace with this," you sob, "I already processed what happened to me years ago, why am I still upset about it?"

"Because it was a traumatic experience," was your brother's answer. "So what?" you exasperate, "does that mean that I'll never get over it? That I have to keep dealing with this for the rest of my life?! While HE can move on with his life with no remorse whatsoever?! It's not fair, Julian...it's not fair..."

"You're right..." Jaskier says with a somber tone as he continued to comfort you, "it is not fair..."

-----------The North: Somewhere between Winterfell and the Wall-------------------

The snow was falling harder than was anticipated.

The sky had turned dark grey and Aemma was certain she heard thunder in the distant. The wind was strong and the flurries of snow clouded her far vision. She dared not divert off the path set before her, lest she find herself lost somewhere in the woods. She was not concerned about getting attacked by a wild boar or a pack of wolves, as Cirillia- though grounded at this point due the intensity of the storm- was able to keep up with Aemma on foot, but the princess couldn't afford to take any detours.

Though she did not know when or even if the Wild Hunt have already reached the wall, she had to assume time was of the essence. She had to make haste if she were to have any chance of saving Jace and Cregan from the clutches of the Red Riders.

So Aemma kept moving in one direction, being North. She figures as long as she stays that way, she'll eventually see a 700 ft wall made of ice.

Aemma began to shiver, and she pulled her fur cloak tighter around her to preserve her warmth. How she longed to be back at Winterfell, soaking in a hot bath and then eating a hot meal afterwards.

She kept on the trek a little while longer, but the storm was becoming such that she could barely see two feet in front of her, and the temperature was the rapidly dropping to the point where it was becoming unbearable for Aemma.

The horse she was riding snickered and started to wonder off the road. Aemma tried to pull the horse back on track, but when she looked ahead, she saw a large cave, one big enough for the horse to stay in as well. It was shelter to weather out the storm. Aemma hated the idea of delaying her trek, but the storm was getting worse and it wouldn't do anyone any good if she got lost in the storm and ended up freezing to death. Aemma allows the horse to lead her to the cave. She was quick to dismount and step out to gather firewood, Aemma having to shiver every now and again to preserve what little warmth she had left. Inside the cave, Aemma was having some trouble getting the kindling together and getting the fire started. Lucky for her, Cirillia stuck her neck in and produced a small flame to light the wood. Aemma had an amused smile on her face seeing the way her dragon tried to fit herself inside the cave to absorb the flame's warmth, but she could barely squeeze her front half in.

Aemma began to wonder how far the men were ahead of her. Did Jace and Cregan get caught up in the storm, or had they reached the wall already that it wasn't much of a concern? The princess considered if she could try and reach out with her powers to connect with Vermax, get a sense of where the two were and how close she might be to them, but decided against it; as she didn't know how far Vermax was, and also remembering what happened last time Aemma did this with a dragon she wasn't bonded to, it was best not to risk it.

The horse suddenly began to whinny in irritation. Confused, Aemma goes to calm the horse down. Then Cirillia started to get antsy as well, the she-dragon growling and snarling at something inside the cave. Aemma turned to see who or what it could possibly be. She knew it wasn't Jace as Cirillia wouldn't have reacted the way she was.

Sure enough, Aemma saw some kind of silhouette towards the far side of the cave. Approaching closer, despite Cirillia protesting, Aemma saw a tall elven figure with dark raven hair and dressed in red.

It was Eredin.

Eyes wide, Aemma drew her sword, ready to face the elf, but Eredin spoke in a calm but firm manner, "put that sword away, girl, it won't do you any good." Aemma didn't listen and went to stab Eredin through the gut, but the sword went through him. "Are...are you a ghost?" Aemma's eyes widen.

"Not quite," Eredin tells her, "it's a little difficult to explain in a way you would understand, but for now you may consider this form akin to an apparition. I must give Caranthir credit for this magic trick." Aemma still wasn't happy to see Eredin, and this feeling was mutual in Cirillia who made low warning growls towards Eredin, but the princess lowered her sword, knowing it wouldn't do her much good now; though still uneasy in the Aen Elle's presence, Aemma also surmised that if she couldn't touch him, he wouldn't be able to touch her.

"What do you want?" Aemma asks. "Merely to talk," Eredin answers casually, "I know you have come into contact with Zireael and Avallac'h on two separate occasions. I've no doubt that Avallac'h has...informed you of things that are to come."

"Do you really expect me to disclose whatever conversations I have had with Ciri and Avallac'h?" Aemma tilts her head slightly, "do you think me foolish enough to tell you anything?" "Far from a fool," Eredin assures, "human yes, but not foolish. I don't blame you if you do not trust me, but you cannot trust Avallac'h." "Who says I actually trust him?" Aemma scoffs, "I don't...but I do trust Ciri, and she trusts him for some reason. I know you and your Red Riders are tracking her down because of the Elder Blood she possesses. If you expect me to lure her out of hiding so you can capture and imprison her again, you are sorely mistaken."

Eredin made an amused grin in response, "Imprison Zireael? Me? No, you could not have been more profoundly mistaken, Silverlark. For you see, it was Avallac'h who had every intention of keeping the girl a prisoner in Tir na Lia." "...I don't understand," Aemma frowns a bit, "Ciri and Avallac'h struck a deal. That she would bear the Aen Elle a child to repay a debt and to put the Elder gene back in the possession of your people." "Hmmm, yes that is true," Eredin confirms, "but it was all a lie. Avallac'h had no intention of releasing Cirilla afterwards. I told the girl this, but she refused to believe me. Now the Swallow runs with the Fox to the very edges of time and space, whispering honeyed words in her ear, same words that she no doubt passes onto you."

Aemma was a little taken aback by this. Why was Eredin even telling her any of these things at all? The elf didn't even need to make her distrust Avallac'h then she already had, and she wouldn't exactly be surprised if that even was the case that the sage had no intention of keeping his part of the original deal. She's experienced Avallac'h's arrogance firsthand, especially when he made it clear how he saw Aemma as a mutated perverted version of Ciri- whom he saw as a mutated perverted version of his beloved Lara.

Was this Eredin's attempt at trying to sprinkle doubt into her, specifically, make her doubt exactly who she could trust? Make her question not necessarily her trust in Avallac'h- or lack thereof- but make her doubt Ciri's judgement.

"You're trying to sow seeds of doubt," Aemma accuses, "turn me against Ciri and abandon her and her fight against this White Frost." "Far from it," Eredin assures, standing up and approaching the princess. Aemma stiffened a little when Eredin placed a hand on her shoulder, even he couldn't actually touch her in his apparition form, "I want to destroy the White Frost more than anyone, but I do not believe Avallac'h should be the one to guide Cirilla and yourself on this path." "Oh, but you are better qualified," Aemma huffs sarcastically.

"You have Zireael's gift, flawed and twisted as it may be, but her gift all the same," Eredin explains, "And as I saw in Ciri, I see a rare jewel in you. She is the lady of Space and Time; with the Elder gene, she can create portals that allow her to travel other worlds, worlds that are even part of different dimensions. And though this part of the Elder gene remains dormant inside you, it can still be awakened...and if we succeeded, you can take up the mantle as the Lady of Space and Time."

Aemma averted her gaze from Eredin's intense stare. In contrast to Avallac'h who was more direct about his intentions and his point of view, Eredin seemed to prefer more subtle methods; luring in his prey with his charm and honey-sweet words. It didn't make Aemma fell any less uneasy; she knew how Avallac'h saw her, and she didn't have any indication to suggest Eredin felt any different.

"Is that what you are offering?" Aemma frowns more in confusion, "you..want to unlock this part of my gift? Unlock my full potential?" "It can be done," Eredin assures, "allow us to, and we together we can open portals to other worlds that have not been claimed by the White Frost. We can save the Aen Elle AND humankind from meeting their end to the bitter cold of the Frost. You...and Zireael...together at my side, we can accomplish what Avallac'h cannot."

In that moment, Aemma's gift kicked in, allowing her to look into Eredin's past;

She saw glimpses of Eredin and the Red Rider's encounter with the White Frost, something that scared the elf greatly. Aemma could feel that Eredin's fear of this entity course through her, and she could feel how it almost drove him to total madness after witnessing the extent of the Frost's destruction and what it will someday do to his world and to the Aen Elle.

In another vision, Aemma saw Eredin confronting Ciri, letting her know that Avallac'h had every intention of breaking his promise to her, of keeping her from leaving their world. She then saw Eredin hand Ciri a vial containing some kind of potion, but Ciri pushed it away from her.

In the last vision, Aemma saw king Auberon sitting on his throne. She saw the old elf slump against the throne, his arm dropping down as he breathed his last. The same vial Eredin tried to give Ciri fell from Auberon's lifeless hand. "The king is dead," Eredin's voice reverberated across the throne room as he picked up the vial that was once filled with poison, a wicked grin on his face, "long live the king..."

"So then," present Eredin extends a hand towards Aemma, "join me and I will teach you how to control your gift and help you reach your full potential faster and further than Avallac'h would ever be willing to. Bring Cirilla to our cause and together we can save both our races and stop the White Frost once and for all."

Aemma made an amused smile at that statement, which confused Eredin greatly, "you find this amusing? Do you doubt my word?" "Not at all," Aemma makes a humorless laugh, "I only doubt your sincerity." She looked up to see the elf king take offense, though Eredin was quick to conceal his reaction, "you speak of saving our races from the White Frost, mine being human, and yours being the Aen Elle. But I have seen in my visions exactly what your Red Riders, YOUR people do mine. You come forth from the skies in the aftermath of a battle or what have you. You take survivors from their homes and bring them to yours so as to make them your slaves. You take their names, their freedom, their dignity, and make them serve you in whatever way you wish for the rest of their lives. Only reason I can see you being willing to save humankind at all is to keep subjugating them to your whims."

"You misunderstand, we don't abduct or torment our human servants, we rescued them and gave them highest honor to serve in-" "Was it a high honor with the way you treated my mother?" Aemma challenges, "I saw what you did to her in my visions years ago, I saw the way you interrogated her and the White Wolf, the way you tossed her around like a rag doll when she refused to tell you about me or about Ciri. I thank the gods she does not remember her captivity, and I pray it will remain that way, my mother already has dealt with enough in this world at the hands of my father. I don't trust Avallac'h, but are no better than him...and you're no better than prince Daemon."

Aemma leaned in close, anger in her eyes, "so with all due respect, YOUR MAJESTY, take your bargain and shove it up your arse. You and your Red Riders can burn in the Seven Hells for all I care, I will not join you, nor will I ever persuade Ciri to join you either."

Eredin's features turned dark with anger as a response, "So be it," the elf says in a low, dangerous tone. Aemma turned her back, intending to leave the cave, "it's a shame what happened to the boy, by the way," Eredin speaks, "if only Avallac'h had deigned to tell you...maybe then you would have saved your Prince Lucerys from his fate."

Eyes widen, Aemma turns with the intention of demanding Eredin elaborate on what he meant, but alas, the elf's apparition form was long gone.

Aemma scanned the cave, but she saw that Eredin was nowhere in sight. She frowned, wondering what he meant about Luke. What about Luke's fate? What did Avallac'h know about that?

Aemma ended up brushing that thought away, concluding that Eredin only said those things to make her doubt her decision.

Maybe he said those things to distract her and slow her down, keep her from reaching the wall before the Wild Hunt reached it.

On cue, Cirillia backed out of the cave, making discerning noises as she kept her gaze to the sky. Aemma ran out to investigate. To her relief, the snow had stopped falling, and it looked like the storm was starting to clear somewhat.

Looking up to the sky, Aemma could see various figures materialize from out of nowhere in the form of armored beings astride dark horses as they rode towards the northern direction...towards the wall.

Aemma saw now that the Wild Hunt was not going to invade the wall from up north, but from towards the south, where the Night's Watch would least suspect.

Wasting no time, Aemma ran towards the horse and grabbed what provisions she could before turning said horse back to Winterfell and mounting Cirillia's saddle, who was more than happy to ready for take off at her rider's command.

"Soves, Cirillia!"

Cirillia took to the sky heading North. To Aemma's relief she could see the Wall was within sight.

Now she could only hope she stop the Wild Hunt before they could get the jump on Jace, Cregan, and the men of the Night's Watch.

#hotd #the witcher #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #oc #alicent hightower #jaskier #eskel #aemond x oc #the Lady of Larks #eredin breacc glas #the wild hunt #the night's watch

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softness-and-shattering · 5 months

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Finished Lady of The Lake (Witcher)

SPOILERS -- Im frustrated and confused with the ending, this isnt particularly complimentary.

And um, what the hell? Is this like a narnia afterlife situation? How did the horse end up in camelot, WHY camelot, why is Ciris future suddenly with this random knight? Why camelot? Am i supposed to be happy? I guess its independence but its not, its just a different world with different rules and politics and complications. I get that we're not doing happily ever after but like.

Kind of feels like the whole party died so the author didn't have to write endings for them. What did the unicorn even achieve, Ciri doesnt need him to travel.

Also a thing thats bothered me the whole time, why is everyone stuck on ciris theoretical future children, why is SHE not destined one? Why is everyone trying to get her pregnant at 16?? Ive never seen a story where the male protagonist has to have kids to secure a prophecy and everyones throwing wives at him. And i dont like the implication after all that that ciris gonna end up with galahad. She should be a lesbian. She cannot be the only descendant of the elder blood, and what were the elves even isolating those genes for?? What was the point of lara? There was no saving the world from politicking or future climate catastrophe.

Its already not a happy ending bc everyone is dead. It just feels like sapkowski didnt really know how to finish things? Lets just throw in some big fights ok now what let everyone noodle around uh guess Ill kill them off now ok. Ciri doesnt even get to grow up. Cahiras scary and significant and then he's just The Fighty Guy of the party, no more complexity there.

And what the fuck is with emhyr and his incest plan? Why does everyone want to fuck ciri including her father?? "The child o sore will be important" YOUR DAUGHTER IS YOUR CHILD BUCKO and then he just lets her go and didnt leave anyone with a knife for Yen and Geralt because why??

Honestly the sexual violence, the fact that every woman is always "provocative" and we always gotta mention their cleavage and fuckability, its so incredibly gross. Especially with everyone wanting to fuck or impregnate ciri. Who is confirmed to be a minor in-world.

Obviously I found the story compelling enough to keep reading multiple books but all these cool concepts just were not executed through. Just an entire book of everyone trying to fuck a child instead of literally anything else. The villain deaths werent satisfying. The protagonist deaths were cheap. I dont remember who the fuck caleb whoever was or half the people referred to in the last quarter of the book even though ive been reading these books fairly close together.

I kind of hope the show does things better but who knows with cavill leaving.

#mine #review

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fangirleaconmigo · 1 year

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A big part of taking care of someone who is sick is just keeping them company because it is so isolating.

So I have sped through a lot of media this past few months while sitting with my sister. And I’ve read while waiting in the hospital and doctors offices.

Here’s the new stuff I’ve just watched and read: (if you wanna talk more about any of them hmu in the ask box. It may take me awhile to answer but I want the asks even so!)

Watched

Barbie. I loved how weird this was. We need more weird blockbusters. I loved seeing a creative team with so many women win so big.

The Bear. This show was a little too real but so well done. I would die for Syd. My sister and I have incorporated “Heard, chef” and “Yes, Chef” into our daily lexicon.

Good Omens S2. When I tell you I was SCREAMIN at the finale. Season three is not a want, it is a need. Right up there with oxygen. Bless Tennant, bless Sheen, bless Gaiman, Netflix hear our prayers.

Breaking Bad rewatch. My thoughts could fill a novel. If anyone wants more, drop an ask. But for these purposes, my only thought is that I will never comprehend people who watched this for Walter White and not for Jessie Pinkman.

Justified Primeval: Deeply enjoyed watching Raylan Givens tussle with a child just like him 😂. Also his chemistry with Carolyn was fuckn fire, I loved the ‘grown an sexy’ vibe. And YESSSS to that epilogue.

What We Do in the Shadows (tho not the finale yet) I will be completely honest I watch this for Guillermo de la Cruz. No thots head empty just Guillermo.

The Witcher S3: My sister actually actively dislikes the show 😂😂😭 so I wasn’t gonna watch it to the sound of her unsolicited critique. So, I went to my friends house to watch it. But turned out my friend’s Husband Joined Us. He is nice but he talked over it SO MUCH. (Like did you know that some of the buildings don’t have windows in the wide shots but then in internal shots, windows galore??) Bless his heart. Point being, I need to watch again.

Ladies First. I’m a big fan of women in hip hop so this documentary series was a MUST. It was great but it left me wanting more. I want a series for every year of women in hip hop. Incredible. Also I found some new artists to listen to.

Pacific Rim rewatch. The movie is just as much fun ten years later. The concept of drift compatibility is top fucking shelf my friends. Top. Fuckn. Shelf. Also, is this the only GDT movie where the monsters are actually the bad guys? 😂 I think it is.

Heartstopper. I watched this mostly because I wanted to spend time (virtually, alas) with my fandom wife and she is obsessed with this show. Glad queer teens have this. The main actors have amazing chemistry, and are super lovable and talented.

One Piece live action. I needed something lighter after being gutted by Breaking Bad so I turned to this show. Am now obsessed with Roronoa Zoro.

I Read:

Pageboy, Elliot Page

Under the Whispering Door, TJ Klune.

Velvet is the Night, Silvia Moreno Garcia

I am Spock, Leonard Nimoy

The Entire Murderbot Diaries series re-read for like the seventh time. This is like my therapy. By Martha Wells.

#the witcher #opla #breaking bad #justified #good omens #the bear #pacific rim

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msommers · 2 months

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4, 16, 18 for maeve, meredith and jorina!

ok listen do NOT look @ me for this taking so long i WASN'T absorbed in laying in bed, staring @ the ceiling, constantly thinking thoughts but never writing them down. that's crazy talk. anyway thank u ily <333 // oc asks: childhood edition // placing the read more higher up than usual bc shocking nobody, i don't know how to keep answers short and i wanna save everyone's dashboards from this

4) How was your muse's relationship with their childhood guardians? Has it changed over time, and if so, how? Do they keep in touch?

so check it out. i read this question an entirely different way the first time i saw it and had different answers, doubted them for like 15 minutes straight, then redid it all upon realization. so now here we are

MAEVE — bad! not good!! never improved!!! i wouldn't even call Maeve's parents her guardians in any capacity because they were so horrible at that job. they started lowkey coercing her into developing her charm when she first caught a man's attention for being pretty because they wanted to get stuff out of it, emotionally neglected her the entire time she lived with them, made her feel guilty about the most ridiculous things on a regular basis, literally sold her to Carden the same day he voiced his interest in taking her away, etc etc add a dozen other offenses here. what changed over time would be Maeve having the distance and years to process how they treated her (mother straight up abusive, father on a lower level and mostly through his inaction), accepting it, and working on the struggles/damage they saddled her with. no contact at all, even if i did entertain the age old concept of her discovering where they moved to during her travels with a witcher or two, she wants nothing to do with them.

MEREDITH — so close to both parents, her father maybe a little more so due to extra time together but that didn't lessen the bond between her and her mother. Meredith and Bryce spent a great deal of time together as she was interested in following in his footsteps, and eventually being heir of the teyrnir, which required a ridiculous amount of educating (required is a strong term, but they both agreed it was excellent to have and she loved her lessons) and additional hands-on experience being at his side while he attended his duties. they knew how to make each other laugh, his hugs were her favorite thing in all of Thedas, and she was all but his official right-hand lady by the time origins came around tbh. Sometimes she'll make a snide comment that she knew he would have laughed at and it causes a physical ache how terribly she misses the sound. Eleanor was the one to initiate Meredith's rogue training to further her capability, and that's something she'll always be grateful for. Her mother taught her how to read maps, calculate numbers in a battle, properly host visitors, she was also the one to give her lessons in Alamarri to help preserve the language. They could soothe each other's nerves or irritation simply by being at one another's side, and held entire conversations through glances and expressions alone. Her mother's smile always filled her with warmth and she spends the rest of her life wishing she could see it just one more time.

JORINA — so much love was present, even in the times of trying to figure her out. she and her father were happy in their quiet art activities together, but she shied away from his affection when it became too overwhelming. her mother supported Jorina's fierce independence without question, but couldn't understand the introvert’s need to recharge and on occasion pushed her a little too far outside of her boundaries. they were most likely at the stage of classic moody arguments between a mom and teen before Wenna’s death and Jorina regrets that to no end. Renehn fell into a severe depression after Wenna was gone (plus some other events of the blight but who has the time to list) and it irrevocably altered he and Jorina's relationship as she was forced to step up in her mid-teens to provide for the family, but fortunately they get the time to heal from individual wounds and come together down the line to slowly rebuild their relationship with great patience and new understandings of each other. Jorina finding her own love helped an immeasurable amount with her coming to understand what her father went through because she doesn't know what the fuck she'd do with herself if anything happened to Aleksi. they kept in contact through Jorina's letters sent back home while she worked for the Inquisition (her siblings would read them to him until he was able to do so himself), and through the occasional visit when time was free for it. level of contact after events of trespasser depends on what happened there i guess lmao

16) If your muse could say one thing to their childhood self, what would they say? Would your muse want to meet their childhood self in the first place?

MAEVE — she would jump at the chance to meet her childhood self because the girl desperately needed love and attention that she’d be all too happy to provide, no matter how short their time together would be. trouble is!! this would likely be one of the rare scenarios where she’d struggle to find the right words, because her list of potentials would be so goddamn long she wouldn’t know where to start. she’d likely end up giving her a much-needed hug, a kiss to the top of the head, and telling her smth like “you are stronger than any deterrent that this world may try to put in your path, love. never doubt that.” bc y’know. soft girl gonna soft and not recognize the strength needed to endure all the shit she suffers to reach her happiness lmfao

MEREDITH — “never doubt your instincts. not even for a moment.” it was the doubt that Rendon could be up to anything truly horrible That EveningTM which led to Meredith holding her tongue, perhaps a gentle (or rather: intense as hell, calm down she's just a kid, mere-) nudge could alter that. could change everything, could change absolutely nothing at all, worth the shot tho.

JORINA — she wouldn’t want to meet her childhood self one bit, she'd get so depressed lol. even when she was young, Jorina was always trying to act older than she was and missed out on a lot of the youthful joy and activities she should’ve had because of that. she’d want to tell her to go play with the other kids, put down the chores for a few hours and just have fun, but i don’t think she’d be able to do it. she’d be too upset about the reminder incarnate of how she wasted her happy, full family years batting her mother’s helping hands away and insisting she could handle big girl things on her own.

18) What's one thing that instantly transports your muse back to their childhood? Why?

MAEVE — hearing a child being snapped at in a particular tone (most often by parents in the upper echelons of society) will, sadly, always send her back to being a little girl getting scolded by her mother. she can recognize later in life that she was being chastised for simply acting as an excitable child should, but falling back into those memories brings the shame of "disappointing" and "embarrassing" her mother back to the surface.

MEREDITH — sometimes chatting with Delilah brings her back to their early teenage years, where they would trade gossip through whispers and giggle as they linked arms before gliding off to find a new source of information, or perhaps a private space to more openly discuss their findings. smth smth prime example of girlhood and she misses that innocent fun, wishes that it hadn't been taken by forces outside of her control.

JORINA — counting her coin. whether it be checking what's on her person or what she'd been paid for recent scouting work, she'll sometimes flash back to the numerous nights she spent counting and recounting her limited household funds as if some extra money would magically appear and she'd be able to comfortably feed the family for the rest of the week.

#ch: maeve sommers #ch: meredith cousland #ch: scout jorina #maybe the maeve line does in fact hold an intentional ref to a witcher's path. what about it #i'm a nerd she's a nerd you're a nerd if you caught it so take that #also somebody kick jorina directly in the ass and force her to go say smth nice to her younger self please #(it won't happen she's a coward) ((aleksi go do it for her))

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justaturtleindisguise · 1 year

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While i'm not currently drawing turtles, i'm very hyperfixated on some OCs of mine, kind of a little project i started in the past 2 weeks hehee ! i'm challenging myself to design 8 characters that are adopted siblings in a medieval kind of setting, and make them all look different from one another. They don't have much lore yet, besides of being very loosely based on concepts of The Witcher and other stuff i'm making up along the way. I have 3 of 8 characters designed and I'd love to share them with everyone !! :)

The first design I did was Garreth's, some part of her like her feet are looking kinda wonky cuz I'm terrible at drawing feet- I tried to make her look non-op but I don't think I did a great job on that :(

lore stuffs:

Garreth is the 4th child;

She came out as a trans woman to her family very recently and didn't felt a need to change her name;

Besides being a amputee, Garreth also wears a knee brace because of a old injury;

Her arm prosthesis is enchanted to work as a real arm, but Garreth doesn't like wearing it because of it's weight, and refuses to use it while in safe spaces;

She's autistic and very prone to bottling up feelings until exploding, but she's working on her communication skills.

Zaia was the second character I designed and honestly she's my favorite- I love me a big strong lady <3

lore stuffs:

Zaia is the oldest child.

She's currently the only AFAB person in her family, being mistaken for a boy as a child;

Family only discovered about her biological sex when she was 14 and had her first period, siblings tried to cover it up for her safety;

Zaia's incredibly smart and a big creature nerd and wrote a entire bestiary by herself with details of creatures found on her journeys;

Besides being the physically strongest of the bunch, Zaia prefers to solve problems peacefully;

Has big problems trusting any figures of authority;

Infodumps about her travels to anyone for hours.

And the third design I did is Talô! I actually just finished him hehee !! He was a tidbit more challenging than the others since I've never draw a albino character before, but I'm pretty happy with the result and hope to get better at drawing him and other albino peeps in the future !!

lore stuffs:

Talô is the youngest child;

He is the only sibling to be currently in a romantic relationship;

He's engaged with his two lovers, whom he loves very much;

He lost his leg in a fight with a werewolf, in which he was infected;

His prosthetic was made by a very cherished friend from the sea and it's currently the only mobility aid he owns;

He fell a little bit out of touch with his siblings in the years following his transformation, afraid that his siblings would hate him for that;

Talô was very close to all of his siblings, so the separation is very painful to him;

He's currently working to gather up courage to tell his siblings about this and about his upcoming marriage.

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This is currently everything I have about this characters (at least that I remember now lol).

I'm very proud of this designs even tho I can see much room for improvement, and I'm also open to questions about them !! :)

Good night folks !!

#oc #original character #original story #my ocs do not steal #my oc character #proshitters dni #fuck proshitters #anti proshitter #knight oc #oc stuff

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unnocturnal · 2 years

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SDV Character Inspos

SO there was this prompt about character inspos in this SDV server im in and i guess im just in the mood to talk about why i chose the inspo i did LOL LONG POST! will add some other characters later since they're based off more general concepts and not actual characters LOL

Rosario -

1. Zhao Tianyou (y:lad) - literally his voice claim and everything. based alot of him off this guy from his teasing personality and the way he Gets Serious when it comes to people close to him

2. Shun Akiama (Yakuza 4) - Big personality contributor! he's flirty, smart but acts like a dumbass, and like. the perfect amount of sleezy that it comes off as charming LOL 3. Kogitsunemaru (Touken Ranbu) - based the whole white hair, fox motif off this guy. also he's cheeky so what a surprise 4. Geralt of Rivia (Witcher 3) - Less so the character and more so his occupation and world. I yoinked alot of the worldbuilding from the game and yeeted it into my stardew world LOL

5. Majima Goro (Yakuza Kiwami) - its the "he's crazy but one thing is for sure he's loyal as a dog" for me. also the "goating you into fights as a way of flirting" also the whole, living freely and fuck all the bullshit kind of thing. living for yourself and for your best.

6. Luka Redgrave (Bayonetta) - pathetic flirty little shit

7. Dante (DMC: Devil May Cry) - mostly an influence from one of my best friends irl, the badass fuck boy with an attitude i loved, also he's fucking metal i love him

8. Loki Laufeyson (MCU) - a trickster type cocky little shit that gets misunderstood, also enjoying the chaos. and the bisxuality. 9. Vampire Cookie (cookie run) - ...... the hair.

Luz -

Lady Demitrescu (RE: Village) - tall vampire lader that could crush me without a second thought and long extendable nails haw yee

Nezuko Kamado (Demon Slayer) - sister to the MC, unwilling transformation into supernatural creature, struggles to reign in new instincts to prey on humans, cool fire powers that come with cryptid-hood

Olivier Armstrong (Full Metal Alchemist Brotherhood) - shes hot, strong and can kill me

Luisa Madrigal (Enchanto) - shes hot, strong, and can kill me (but she wouldn't) also body type inspo

Jeanne (Bayonetta) - compared to bayonetta (rosario)'s outright flirt-teasing, jeanne (luz) tends to be a little meaner with her goading. also oooo shes hot strong and can kill me (i swear im biromantic)

Rouge -

1. Mirei Park (Yakuza 5) - face claim and also a big personality contributor. manipulative but in a way she wants the best for you, harsh but also for the same reason, intimidating, head strong, reliable, and has gone through way too much shit

2. Kiryu Kazuma (Yakuza) - big family woman like him and is super-unnaturally strong and durable. has his strength and everything. also an orphan that grew up with other orphans, and took care of them.

3. Nishikiyama Akira (Yakuza) - bad bitch honestly LMFAOJFOSDIF no i mean like there was a turning point in Rouge's life where she couldn't go back to what things were, and she fully committed herself to the underworld....

4. Osamu Kashiwagi (Yakuza) - Scars

5. Mine Yoshitaka (Yakuza 4) - yoinked the gayness and last name from this one

#lucian babbles #farmer rosario #farmer luz #farmer rouge

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fandom-space-princess · 2 years

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WIP Whenever

Taking inventory of my WIPs folder, and I'm starting to understand why I never seem to finish anything. I jump around too much 😅

WIPs for which I have, at minimum, started to bullet-point plot and character notes (by fandom):

Supernatural:

None But Shining Hours: midam sequel to "The Game of Us." Michael and Adam living their little post-resurrection life, featuring a Michael learning to take joy in life's quieter labors.

Artificial Nocturne: Raphael sequel to "The Game of Us." Raphael growing a garden for themself as they take up a position caretaking the Empty, and getting the rest and recuperation they deserve.

[untitled]: sabrifer sequel to "The Game of Us." I'm not actually sure this isn't two fics trying to be one fic. On the one hand, there's whatever Gabriel and Lucifer are doing whenever they're haunting the bunker, and Sam, and each other. On the other hand, there's the separate setting entirely of Lucifer taking responsibility for upending the structure of Purgatory, and examining what it means to be a creature created irredeemable. Need to work on this more because it is at all times scrabbling at the walls in my brain.

[untitled] oddly philosophical bondage kinkfic featuring [REDACTED]. This one meant to be sexy when I started writing it but these assholes just won't stop talking to each other long enough to get to the good part. Woe.

Stranger to Flight: midam oneshot featuring both Michael and Adam being incredibly weird about the concept of immortality.

[untitled]: Gabriel resurrection postcanon longfic. Canon-compliant AU. Gabriel finds himself deposited unceremoniously on the bunker's doorstep, and has to reconcile a headful of conflicting memories about how often, when, and whether he was alive or dead. He's uncertain if he's real, or if anything is; he remembers the many, many "draft" versions of himself Chuck wrote, and he's stuck in a body that doesn't answer to his whims like it used to. This is technically a sabriel fic, but it's so much more about Gabriel's relationship to embodiment and existence… one day I will finish this, and publish it, and then probably just die satisfied.

First Rites: midam oneshots about their "firsts." First kiss, first decision Michael makes for himself, first fight they have after the cage… heck, when I figure out how to write them baking a cake, Michael's first birthday.

Eastern Midnight Time: samifer fic that I will someday finish and bestow upon Sin like a flower crown for inspiring it. The premise is an allegory about sacrificial goats wrt the book of Leviticus, and the idea of Sam as "the scapegoat"/the goat "for Azazel," in contrast to Dean, as Michael's vessel, being a more pure/godly sacrifice. The premise here is a ~s4/5ish Sam road trip fic, and the lengths to which he would go to feel worthy again; about helping people as he moves, collecting sins as he goes.

Witcher (all media):

Metamorphosis, and Other Gifts: Eskel/Salma the Succubus fic that keeps stubbornly resisting me writing the final chapter. Eskel's relationship to his own monstrousness (and the idea in general of what it means to be a monster) makes me feel tormented. I think this might be the next thing I finish.

[untitled]: Ciri longfic. What if, in the aftermath of TW3, the Lady of Space and Time had a crisis of conscience and took up mutiverse-jumping? What if she pulled the members of Geralt's hansa from their deaths at Stygga Castle at the last possible moment, and brought them into the post-game future? Wouldn't that be awful for everyone? GLAD YOU ASKED. It definitely would! There would be unintended consequence! Crises of identity! Angoulême and Ciri having just the worst heart-to-hearts! I can't wait to sit down and work on it one of these days.

[untitled]: series of sequential/interconnected one-shot fics for Meve/Reynard/Gascon (Thronebreaker). I'm not exactly sure how many of these there are going to be yet, but I have notes for at least three of them. I do so love my OT3.

[Bonus!] Dragon Age:

[untitled] Whooo boy, is this self-indulgent. This is a gigantic fic that exists (… I use this word loosely) to tear a big goddamn hole in the fabric of the universe and let me write a story to the effect of: "if you sunder spacetime such that you have five or six Wardens with intact memories up to the Tower of Ishal, three or four slightly different versions of the same Hawke, and a half-dozen very angry Inquisitors, how badly can they screw up working together and saving the world?" God, it's so much. There is no chance of this seeing the light of day prior to Dreadwolf, though, so I wouldn't look for it any time soon.

#if you would like to hear anything more about these you may send me asks and I will try to say something intelligent in response #otherwise if you need me i will be in the writing hole for approximately the rest of my life #fanfic #wips #spn #dragon age #witcher

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moosifers · 2 years

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I posted 1,894 times in 2022

That's 1,595 more posts than 2021!

175 posts created (9%)

1,719 posts reblogged (91%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@theowlseye

@chaoszonenate

@kaltstrahls

@hylaversicolor

I tagged 1,541 of my posts in 2022

Only 19% of my posts had no tags

#mgs - 582 posts

#fanart - 225 posts

#emil's shenanigans - 122 posts

#solid snake - 114 posts

#revolver ocelot - 88 posts

#cat - 68 posts

#art - 56 posts

#ask - 55 posts

#big boss - 51 posts

#the witcher - 46 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#okay but like it is actually a big question for people on how they are going to let people know in the future that nuclear waste is buried t

My Top Posts in 2022:

@theowlseye and i whenever we talk about liquid snake

27 notes - Posted November 2, 2022

someone gifting ocelot a mug that says "don't speak to me until I've had my ocelatte"

33 notes - Posted September 17, 2022

Ah yes, the twin snakes, snavid and sneli

48 notes - Posted November 26, 2022

ocelhira soulmates au is one of the funniest concepts to me they'd be sooo mad

71 notes - Posted October 26, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

my parents thoughts while i've been playing through metal gear

ocelot is their meow meow. they would replace me as their child with ocelot

mom got very attached to BB's hospital gown look. she didn't know it's BB so has been referring to him as "buttcrack"

kaz is "pretty boy (derogatory)"

kaz is also brad pitt

quiet is "booby lady"

mom is entranced by the boob jiggle

both mom and dad expected venom and skullface to hold hands and kiss during their car ride

201 notes - Posted November 6, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #emil's shenanigans

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thricedrakon · 7 days

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@ THRICEDRAKON : an indie, selective, && mutuals only multi fandom & muse blog of various muses from several VIDEO GAME sources, verses, concepts, and lore. beloved by Quill. ( they/them , 21+ ) writing, portrayals, and storylines heavily inspired in fantasy elements and other folklore. oc, crossover, & au friendly! ( follows from @drakonquill )

multimuse. carrd. prompts.

muses under cut . . .

skyrim ( tes )

Serena – ( open )

Nim-Witted ( oc , argonian dragonborn ) – ( open )

Tek no Balade ( oc , orc ) – ( open )

Aela – ( open )

Ulfric Stormcloak – ( open )

Alduin – ( open )

Paarthurnax – ( open )

a variety of muses outside of this, as I've been playing this game since my early teenage years.

dragon age

Alistair Theirin – ( @wardenlyknight )

Fenris – ( open )

Duncan – ( open )

Morrigan – ( open, selective )

Flemeth – ( open )

Leliana – ( open )

Dagna – ( open )

Merril – ( open )

Varric – ( open )

Carver Hawke – ( open )

Cullen Rutherford – ( open )

Solas – ( open )

Marian/Garrett Hawke – ( open , default Hawke , no preference of class )

Serena Amell – ( oc , warden commander )

Yvara Lavellan – ( oc , inquisitor )

slay the princess

The Princess ( The Shifting Mound ) – ( test )

The Hero/Player ( The Long Quiet ) – ( test )

assassin's creed

Ezio Auditore da Firenze – ( @requescat-inpace )

Leonardo Da Vinci – ( open )

Kassandra – ( open )

Edward Kenway – ( open )

red dead redemption

Arthur Morgan – ( open )

fandomless

Silvanus of Old Iridil – ( oc , dragon shapeshifter , immortal )

Evelyn Malik, the Miracle Lady – ( oc , witch , immortal )

fandoms tba: legend of zelda ( botw/totk ) , elden ring , baldur's gate 3 , fire emblem three houses , stardew valley , dragon's dogma , the witcher , detroit become human , the last of us , life is strange , and more . . .

#pinned #they/them #21+#mdni

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thecaduceusclay · 2 years

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your top 5 in fantasy media (books, tv, movies, etc.)

I love love love this question cause I consume a lot of fantasy media. I'm sticking to more Classic Fantasy as opposed to stuff set in our world with fantasy elements tho, as a personal challenge.

Shadow and Bone (TV) - I love the worldbuilding here but I found the books personally unreadable. I'm so obsessed with how they craft a fantasy world and a magic system. I love Kaz as a character. I think the regional flavor given to the world brings it to life.

The Last Unicorn (Movie) - A classic. This movie lives in the back of my brain. The whimsy of the art, the quiet melancholy, it's so genuinely beautiful.

The Witcher (All of It) - Again, I'm a sucker for worldbuilding. Witchers as a concept fascinate me and I adore them. Geralt's journey from a man who thinks there is no lesser evil to a man who would die to even potentially save people from a pogrom fascinates me. His mundane death, never to a grand threat, but to hateful humans... It's not perfect, but the series has such an interesting view of hate and prejudice. Also, Joey Batey as Jaskier can get it.

The Green Knight (Movie) - The themes and symbolism in this movie go so hard. I love analyzing it, it's like the crunchiest enrichment for me. I could chew this for days. The relationship between this Gawain and his Classic Arthurian counterpart. His relationship to honor. The role of rot. The role of masculinity. The nods to Christianity. The way the Green Knight speaks gets to me so hard too, and Lady Bertilak's monologue is so so good. (The Green Creeps In).

King Arthur Legend of the Sword (Movie) - You said top. You never said best. The Devil and the Huntsman from this soundtrack is so good. The world is fun to watch. This is an Arthur who's interesting to me personally. Is it good? Maybe no. Is Jude Law hot? Yes. (Also I must stress the music is so so good. If I ever made a movie I would hire Daniel Pemberton, who you probably know from Into the Spiderverse, Birds of Prey, Enola Holmes, The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance or Ocean's 8. His music really makes this movie what it is and gives it a good edge)

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hollyethecurious · 1 year

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CS AU: The Law of Surprise (1/3)

A/N: This is NOT a Witcher AU. Want to make that clear from the get go. The idea for this fic WAS inspired by the show, however. I’m not sure if the Law of Surprise was a show/game creation or if it existed before. Regardless, this fic is my spin on the concept and will be posted in three parts.

Rated T (for now) / Also available on ao3 and ff.net / buy me a coffee / add to tag list / Curious? Come Ask Me!

Part One

Smoke billowed from the hull, choking the air as steel clanged around them. Shouts and screams echoed across the deck that was coming apart beneath their feet.

“The King! We must save the King!” Liam bellowed over the melee, dispatching a man who, up until a few days ago, had been one of their brothers-at-arms. No sooner had the man’s body hit the boards than another rushed forward to take his place, challenging the traitorous sea captain whom they had expected to aid them in their mission, not take up arms against them.

“Brother!” Killian cried out, moving through the throng towards Liam with slashes of his cutlass clearing the way.

“The King!” Liam commanded once more. “Get to the King! That’s an order!”

Killian’s grip tightened on the hilt of his sword and he swallowed past the instinct to ignore such an order. Notes of black powder, brine, and blood filled his sinuses as he took in a fortifying breath and turned away from his captain in search of His Majesty King David. Through the soot laced plumes, the dying breaths of a ship that would soon find itself on the bottom of the sea, Killian could see King David fending off multiple assailants with sword skills that had become legend. Movement through the swirls of ash caught Killian’s attention and his stomach dropped. Lurking behind the King was an unseen assassin, and Killian had but a few seconds to launch himself between his would-be sovereign and certain death.

The force of their meeting blades jarred Killian, but he held firm. Applying a few less than savory tactics to give him the upper hand, he made quick work of the assassin then threw himself into the fray, defending the King as they fought side by side until the remaining adversaries lay dead.

“Y-You,” King David panted, his chest and shoulders heaving from his exertions as he tried to catch his breath. “You serve my… my father, King George.”

“Not any longer, Your Majesty,” Killian told him. “Once we learned of George’s treachery against Queen Snow, we could not stand idly by and accept such orders.”

“We?”

“My brother, Captain Liam Jones, and those of us who chose to follow good form rather than betray a treaty made in good faith.”

“Lieutenant!” one of their men shouted. “Captain says we must abandon ship at once!”

“Too right!” Killian called out, grasping the King by the arm. “Time to go, Your Majesty.”

The planks they’d used to board the crippled vessel were just coming into view when the ship lurched and began to list violently. Grabbing onto the rigging, Killian prompted King David to hoist himself up onto the gunwale.

“Here!” Killian shouted, forcing a length of rope into the King’s hands. “Take this and swing over. Our men will catch you!”

“What about you?”

“There’s no time! You must go, Your Majesty. Now!”

When the King attempted to voice his protest once more, Killian gave him a firm shove, forcing him to cling tightly to the rope as his feet lost purchase with the side of the ship. The sight of the King being hauled to safety was the last thing Killian saw before the deck beneath him gave way. Agony ripped through his wrist where the rigging was still wrapped around it. The weight of his body and the vicious twisting of the rope as it held to the cleats it was knotted upon effectively severed his hand, dropping it into the flood waters below with a sickening splash that preceded the rest of Killian’s body as he desperately tried, and failed, to grab onto the railing with his remaining hand.

Sea water filled his mouth, still open from his screams of pain, and forced its way down his throat. Panicked, he reached out, hoping against hope to make his way out of the collapsing hull, determined it would not become his tomb. Through the vanishing streaks of sunlight, Killian watched in horror as crimson began to surround him. His own blood, freely flowing from the shredded remains of his wrist, colored the frigid waters as his consciousness started to wane and black threatened to overtake red. Something brushed his side, and with the last vestiges of his strength and wits, Killian noted it was a barrel, still sealed and buoyant, making its way back towards the surface with the line and hook that had once secured it within the hold still attached. Scrambling, he secured the hook to the straps crisscrossing the front of his uniform and prayed the sea would not yet claim him, giving into the oblivion that was proving too much to overcome.

~/~

The room was still. Too still. And bright with sunlight. The serenade of cooing songbirds, the swishing of skirts, and the flutter of wings too big to belong to the nesting swallows were within earshot.

Killian groaned and willed his eyes to open, though he had to squint past the assault of the sunbeams streaking in from the windows. Just as he’d deduced while coming out of his stupor, he was no longer on a ship, but in a stone room with many windows and a number of cots filled with others who, like him, were suffering from a variety of injuries. Killian had almost gotten up the courage to inspect his own grave wound when a shifting presence seated at his bedside snapped his attention to the person keeping vigil.

“Y-Your Majesty?” Killian croaked, stunned by the fact Queen Snow would be the one in attendance at his sick bed. “What? How?”

“Shh,” Her Majesty soothed, waving one of the healers over. “You have been unconscious for some time.”

“Surely you have not been at my side this entire time.”

The Queen chuckled. “No. Your brother and I have been taking it in turns.”

“Why on earth would you--”

“You saved my husband’s life. Ensuring you survived your injury seemed like the least I could do.”

His injury. His hand. Killian clenched his eyes tightly and swallowed back the bile his anxiety was threatening to send up his throat. The Queen took his remaining hand and leaned in to softly murmur words of comfort into his ear.

“The fairies did all they could, but with your hand lost to the sea they could not…” She paused, her voice strained and filled with compassion as he finally opened his eyes and lifted his head so he could take in the bandage wrapped remnants of his left arm. “You had already succumbed to fever by the time the ship returned, and while their magic was able to tend to the wound, the trauma you sustained made it difficult for them to apply the full measure of their powers. Now that you are awake, you can begin to…” Again, her voice trailed off, most likely distressed by the tears leaking out of the corners of his eyes. “Lieutenant, look at me,” she insisted, squeezing his hand a bit tighter until he complied. “You will survive this. Your brother tells me there is none as resourceful or as a stubborn as his little brother, so I know you will manage to adjust in time, and with the fairies aiding you in your convalescence--”

“Younger,” Killian choked out, a sob catching in the back of his throat. When the Queen’s brow pinched together, her head tilting in perplexity to his response, he clarified, “Liam knows I abhor being referred to as his little brother. I prefer younger.”

A smile twitched at the corner of her lips - lips as red as roses, or so it had been said in the tales chronicling her and the King’s storied love - and the corners of her eyes crinkled affectionately as she yielded, “Younger.”

“Your Majesty,” the young fairy she had waved over when he’d first awakened timidly interjected. “I should tend to Lieutenant Jones now. Would you also like me to send word to Captain Jones--”

“No, I shall inform him,” the Queen replied. With a sigh she stood from her seat and allowed the fairy nurse to take her place. “See that you comply with everything they request of you,” she commanded Killian, her gaze turning regal and unrelenting until he nodded his agreement. “Good,” she said with a warm smile, one that tilted further upwards into a teasing smirk as she vowed, “I promise to look back in after Captain Jones has had his chance to fuss over you.”

“Perhaps your fairies ought to put me out of my misery now,” Killian groaned, the prospect of Liam hovering by his bedside, relentlessly questioning the fairies’ work while issuing his own commands of healing and restoration upon his little brother making him wish for the sweet abyss of sleep once more.

~/~

It had been the rumors of poisoning that had first started the brothers Jones to question their allegiance to King George. Whispers of a treachery that would ensure Queen Snow’s line ended with her had begun to spread and with it, the suspicion of their King’s true character. Killian had suggested King George might not be the noble and just ruler they had first thought when signing on with His Majesty’s Navy after being freed from indenture when the ship they served sank in a storm, but Liam would not hear such slander. It was not until the rumor had been confirmed by Lancelot, a soldier turned traitor they had been tasked with capturing, that Liam finally accepted that which Killian had tried to convince him.

King George had poisoned Snow White. Cursed her during his toast at the wedding that was supposed to unite their two kingdoms - an added benefit to the true love she’d found with George’s son, Prince David. It was not love, either for his son or new daughter-in-law, that filled the King’s heart that day, though. George had wanted revenge, he wanted to punish them both for going against his wishes, for robbing him of a union with a more prosperous kingdom, so he had Snow’s goblet dosed with a potion that rendered her barren and unable to produce an heir, a fact he revealed to them after he’d returned to his own kingdom, thereby nullifying the treaty they’d made in good faith before the wedding.

Lancelot had not only provided them with the truth about their King, but confided in them his knowledge of a plot the sovereign had conspired against his own son. The newly crowned Misthavian King’s life was in danger. Before George had dispatched Liam’s crew to go after Lancelot, he’d commissioned another ship to lay in wait, sure that King David would sail to confront his father about what he had done. Their orders were to waylay King David’s vessel and see to it the ship went down… with no survivors.

Without a moment to spare, the brothers Jones had rallied their men, calling upon them to reject the traitorous King and instead take up arms in the service of the noble King David, and set a course towards the location an ambush would most likely take place. Luck had been on their side, arriving just as King David’s ship had begun taking on water.

During his many weeks of convalescence, Killian learned that upon returning to Misthaven, King David had accepted the allegiance and oaths of fealty from those who had defected. In addition to new loyalties was the boon of acquiring George’s most prized ship, the Jewel of the Realm, of which he had insisted Liam remain captain once the damage she’d sustained in battle had been seen to.

Both Liam and Queen Snow kept Killian apprised of the war that was now in full swing, and the lieutenant would be lying if he said he was not eager to join his brother in the fray once more. His injury (and his own stubbornness), however, was delaying such a desire from becoming reality. Though healed to the best of the fairies abilities, it was Killian’s determination to rehabilitate and acclimate to his new reality without any magical assistance that slowed his progress. All that changed, however, when he heard the news that repairs had been completed to the Jewel, and Captain Jones was being called forth for his first mission under their new sovereign.

“Are you sure?” Tink asked, again. “You’ve been doing so well without it.”

“I will not let my brother sail into dangers unknown without me to watch his back,” Killian growled. “You’re the one who kept insisting I was making things too difficult for myself, so just perform the bloody magic so I can present myself to Their Majesties at my brother’s side!”

Tink gave him one last assessing look, then sighed. Holding out her wand, she sent a cascade of magic over him, altering the dominance of his muscle memory from his left side to his right.

“There,” she said. “All you were able to do with your left hand before, you will now naturally experience with your right.”

Killian clenched and released his right hand, then wrapped it around the hilt of the sword sheathed at his hip. Drawing it, he cut the air around him with metallic swishes, marveling at the ease with which he instinctively maneuvered it with his previously weaker hand.

“We still need to determine the attachment you wish to have fashioned for your brace,” Tink reminded him, but Killian waved her off.

“Later.”

Returning the sword to its scabbard, Killian straightened his appearance. “Have they assembled?”

Tink peered over the gallery’s balcony wall that overlooked the throne room. “The King and Queen are just now being seated. They’ll be calling for your brother momentarily.”

“Then I’d better hurry,” Killian quipped, shooting Tink a quick wink. After a few steps, he stopped and turned back, grasping the fairy by her shoulders and pulling her in for a tight hug. “Thank you,” he murmured before pulling back and placing a quick peck on her cheek.

Tink rolled her eyes. “Go,” she said with half a laugh, and Killian did not have to be told twice.

“What do you think you’re doing out of the infirmary?” Liam questioned when Killian made it down to the hall outside the throne room just as the Royal Usher appeared to announce their entrance.

“You didn’t really think I’d let you go on this fool’s errand without me, did you?” Killian needled with a hint of cheek.

“It only becomes a fool’s errand when a fool joins it,” Liam shot back, stifling the smile twitching at the corners of his lips.

“Precisely,” Killian agreed, waggling his brows in Liam’s direction. “Your involvement alone has seen to it.”

A chuckle rumbled through Liam’s chest and he slapped his brother good-naturedly on the back. “We’ll see what His Majesty has to say about it. I suppose you’ve earned at least that.” Turning to the usher, Liam requested, “Please announce our arrival to Their Majesties.”

Nodding, the usher signaled the guards who pulled open the large wooden doors.

“Captain Liam Jones and Lieutenant Killian Jones of Their Majesties’ Royal Navy!”

Killian kept stride a step behind his captain, focusing on his breathing and the rampant beat of his heart the closer they got to the dais. Though he’d had the pleasure of becoming acquainted enough with Queen Snow to no longer be nervous in her presence, this was the first time since shoving the King off the gunwale of his ship that Killian had been in the imposing man’s presence. Following Liam’s lead, he bent low at the waist when presented and awaited acknowledgement from his sovereigns before straightening to attention.

“Lieutenant Jones, how wonderful to see you,” Queen Snow greeted with a warm smile. “Though, I confess, we had not expected you.”

“My apologies, Your Majesty,” Killian offered. “I hope you forgive my impudence, but once I learned of the commission placed upon the Jewel, I could not, in good faith, sit idly by whilst my captain and fellow sailors answered the call of duty.”

“And do you feel as though you are fit for duty, Lieutenant?” the King inquired, assessing him with a stern glance that flicked to the brace that covered his blunted wrist. “We’ve been kept apprised of your progress, and it was my understanding you had refused magical assistance.”

“It’s true, Your Majesty,” Killian replied. “I was resistant to it, but I have since relented.”

In his periphery, he saw Liam’s head jerk slightly towards him, his eyes darting to the side as he remained at attention in the presence of their commander and king.

“I see,” the King said, his expression growing pensive as he shared a look with his wife. “And you are adamant in your request to join your captain?”

“I am, Your Majesty.”

“And you, Captain? What have you to say about your Lieutenant’s request?”

“I leave such matters in Your Majesties’ hands,” Liam responded with the diplomacy he’d been taught, until a flicker of something passed over his features and he dared to add, “but there is no other I would rather have by my side whilst completing this mission than my lieutenant.”

Killian fought against the proud grin pulling at his lips and lifted his chin a bit higher as he awaited the King’s response.

King David cast his eyes towards his wife who gave a demure nod before he turned back and stood, surprising the assembled court.

“Then I suppose we have no objection,” he commented. “However, there is something that must be done first…” He held his hand towards a squire stationed next to the platform. The lad approached, a broad sword laying flat across his palms, and presented the weapon to the King who grasped the hilt as he motioned for Killian to step forward.

“Kneel,” King David commanded, and Killian, knowing he was the final deserter of King George’s service who had not undertaken a new oath of fealty, did as he was commanded. The weight of King David’s sword rested against Killian’s shoulder and his eyes never wavered from his sovereigns as he was asked, “Do you, Killian Jones, in good faith and without deceit, pledge your fealty to this kingdom and to the Sovereign Family who governs it? Will you, to the best of your ability, faithfully serve those who may call upon your duty as well as those who are in need of your charity? Do you vow to never cause harm to those to whom you have sworn your allegiance and that you will honor your accords so long as they are honored in kind?”

“I do,” Killian answered tightly, his throat constricted from the swell of emotion rising up within him.

King David lifted his sword and repositioned it to Killian’s other shoulder. “Then in addition to accepting your allegiance, and in accordance with the practices and traditions of this land, I not only recognize your selfless bravery in saving my life, but offer you a boon in addition to my gratitude.”

Killian’s brows pinched together and he felt the tips of ears go red. Other than the Queen’s remarks after he’d regained consciousness, nothing more had ever been mentioned regarding his actions that day in battle. He had simply been doing his duty; never would he have imagined a public ceremony, much less a boon.

“It gives me great pleasure to bestow upon you…” the King continued, his Adam’s apple jumping as he swallowed hard, “The Law of Surprise.”

A flurry of murmurs erupted throughout the throne room. Killian’s lips parted in shock and his brother had to assist him back to standing.

The Law of Surprise. A windfall whose nature is unknown to the parties involved. Whatever treasure or lands or blessing the King had yet to become aware of, but destiny had already designed for him, would actually be Killian’s to claim, the value of which could be innumerable.

Vaguely, Killian was aware of the order that the hall be cleared as the King offered the lieutenant his hand. Accepting the gesture, he managed to croak out a quiet ‘thank you’.

“No. Thank you,” Queen Snow replied warmly, having joined the men from the dais. “Both of you. This Kingdom is forever in your debt.”

“And I am in yours,” King David declared, releasing Killian hands. “Until the Law of Surprise is fulfilled. So…” Reaching into his robes, the King produced a scroll, sealed with the Sovereign stamp. Handing it over to Liam, he continued, “Take all precautions to keep yourselves safe during this mission the Queen and I am tasking you with. These orders are to be kept under seal until you are ready to depart from our shores. We cannot risk anyone finding out.”

“I understand, Your Majesty,” Laim replied, taking the scroll and giving a reverential bow of his head. “Come, little brother,” Liam prompted, slapping Killian on the back. “We have our orders and must ready the Jewel.”

Killian stumbled, his body slow to obey, still too overcome by what had transpired. Bowing to their Majesties, Killian was about to follow his brother out of the hall when the Queen surprised him once again by throwing her arms around him and giving him a tight hug. Words seemed to get caught in her throat for a moment, and Killian sensed there was something she wished to say, but then thought better of it.

When she finally pulled away, she took his hand in hers and imparted, “Take care of one another and return home as quickly as you can.”

“Aye,” Killian answered with one last nod of his head. “Until we meet again, Your Majesty.”

~/~

Awaiting them on the deck of the Jewel was a large trunk with a smaller satchel set atop. Liam gave the order to prepare to set sail, and the crew busied themselves with their tasks, ignoring the parcels as best they could.

Liam motioned Killian towards the captain’s cabin, and once they were below they began to inspect the King’s orders together. Having grabbed the satchel on his way down, Killian opened the latch as his captain broke the sovereign seal on the scrolls.

“Star charts?” Liam murmured, inspecting the first parchment closely. “I've never seen these constellations before.”

“And I’ve never seen markings like this,” Killian added, showing his brother the golden sextant that had been hidden away in the satchel. “To what strange land are we headed?”

Liam set aside the star chart and began to read the official missive. “We're going to a new land, brother,” he said excitedly. “One that requires… a pegasus sail in order to reach it!”

“A Pegasus sail?” Killian replied, incredulously. “Is that what the trunk aboard deck contains?”

“Aye!” Liam answered, his eyes continuing to scan their orders. “A sail woven from the feathers of one of the last remaining pegasus.”

“Legend has it that horse could fly.”

“Indeed.” Liam looked up from the scroll, his eyes as big as saucers. “So can we. Our orders are to fly to this new land and stop King George’s men from obtaining a weapon.”

“What sort of weapon?” Killian snatched the parchent from Liam’s hand and began reading the orders for himself, even as his captain continued to relay them.

“A plant.”

“A plant?” Killian parroted, snidely. “His Majesty wishes us to cross realms for a plant?”

“All King David knows is that George also has a pegasus sail, and plans to use it to send men to obtain that plant, which, according to the fairies, can be used as a weapon capable of terrible destruction.”

“So, what? Does he wish for us to capture the plant for ourselves?” Killian did not much like that plan. He would gladly fight his enemies, but his code demanded he fight fair. The only weapon he knew of that came from plants was poison, and the idea of using such a tactic was underhanded and loathsome. Was it not George’s use of poison against Queen Snow that had caused them to defect from the kingdom of their birth in the first place?

“No,” Liam assured him. “We are to stop George’s men from retrieving it, burn their sail, and once we’ve returned, burn ours as well, so no one can ever venture there again.”

Killian relaxed his posture, relief flooding him, along with a measure of guilt that he’d ever doubted King David and Queen Snow's intentions.

Doubts that were further laid to rest when one of the men called down from the hatch, “Lieutenant! A parcel has arrived for you. From Her Majesty the Queen!”

Both men made their way back up, and Killian took the parcel from the sailor’s hand. It was heavy and odd-shaped, with a letter attached. Handing off the parcel to Liam, so he could open the note, Killian shook out the page and read:

Dear Lieutenant,

Tinkerbelle informed me you had yet to choose an attachment for your brace. I hope you will forgive my presumption, but I thought this might be a suitable option.

The wrapping crinkled as Liam opened the parcel, exposing a shiny, silver hook, the base of which had been refashioned to fit the mechanism within his brace.

It is the very hook you used to strap yourself to that barrel, which ultimately saved your life that day. It is my hope that this hook will bring you the same favor each and every day you wear it, as it did the day you brought favor back into my own life when you first employed it.

Yours,

Queen Snow

The entire ship had gone silent, with only the snapping of the sails and splash of waves against the hull daring to compete with the Queen’s words. Sun gleamed off the surface of the hook, still held in Liam’s hand, and Killian swallowed tightly as he took it in his own. Holding it up, he considered how this seemingly inconsequential piece of equipment had changed the course of his life, and with the Law of Surprise still owed to him by the King, the greatest of those changes were as yet unknown to him. Queen Snow was right. He could think of no other attachment that would be more fitting for whatever the fates might have in store for him.

Positioning the hook into the end of the brace, he gave it a firm turn until it clicked into place, restoring a piece of himself he never thought he’d get back. Clearing his throat, Killian shifted his posture, bringing himself to full height, faced his brother, and asked, “What are your orders, Captain?”

Liam’s eyes filled with pride, but he maintained his composure in the face of their crew. “Deploy the Pegasus sail and begin charting our course, Lieutenant.”

“Aye, aye,” Killian acknowledged before addressing the crew. “Get ready to set sail, mates! Make speed!”

~/~

Killian’s boots sank into the damp sand as he followed Liam up a small hill, heading away from shore. Behind him, the rest of the scouting party fanned out, their eyes cutting through the vegetation ahead for any sign of inhabitants. Dense jungle crept towards them with towering trees and lush ferns obscuring any view they might have into the island's heart. Once they made it to the top of the berm, Liam turned to instruct his men and Killian followed suit. No sooner had Liam opened his mouth than a voice spoke up from right behind them.

“Are you two lost?”

Whirling back around with his sword drawn, Killian was astounded to find an adolescent youth staring at them curiously. Where the devil did he come from?

“You look lost to me,” the boy said with a smirk as he lazily perused the men before him, seemingly undeterred by the many swords pointed his way.

“Identify yourself, boy,” Liam commanded.

“I'm Peter Pan,” the boy stated. With a sweeping hand, he gestured towards the island and added, “I live here. Who are you?

Liam studied the boy for a moment more before sheathing his sword and signaling the rest of the men to do the same. “Captain Jones,” he replied before gesturing towards Killian. “And this is my lieutenant. We're here by order of the king.”

Killian secured his own sword, unnerved by the way the boy’s eyes lingered upon him, especially his hook, before responding to Liam’s statement.

“The king, huh? We don't have any kings in Neverland,” he informed them, then smugly added, “just me.”

“That's funny,” Liam deadpanned whilst pulling a folded piece of parchment from his vest pocket. Shaking it open, he held it up in front of the boy. “We seek this plant.” He gave the boy a moment to look at the drawing. “Now tell us, boy, where can we find it?”

Ignoring Liam’s demand, the boy plucked the parchment from Liam’s hand and inquired, “Your king sent you for this plant?”

“You know it?”

“Dreamshade?” the boy replied, his brows high upon his forehead with a glimmer Killian did not much care for sparking in his eyes. “It's the deadliest plant on the island. Your king is really ruthless.”

“It’s not like that,” Killian countered. “King David sent us here in order to prevent that plant from falling into the ruthless hands of King George. We’re here to safeguard it, not exploit it.”

The boy flicked his eyes up from beneath his brows, and the sinister smile pulling at the corners of his mouth made Killian’s blood run cold.

“Funny,” the boy drawled. “They said the same thing.”

A battle cry rang out from the treeline, followed by the sounds of foliage being snapped and trampled by a dozen or more men rushing from the brush. King George’s men descended without warning, having clearly arrived at the island before them with enough time to set up an ambush. Killian drew his cutlass and threw himself into the fray, clashing swords with an enemy whose blade was smeared with a black, sticky substance he did not recognize.

Though outnumbered, King David’s men were able to make short work of George’s. Killian surmised they must have made land on the opposite side of the island and were therefore already fatigued from their trek through the jungle, giving King David’s men the upper hand. When Killian managed to disarm the opposing captain, his hook pressed against the man’s throat as he gave the order of surrender, George’s remaining men all threw down their weapons and sank to their knees.

“Tie them up,” Killian ordered as he scanned the beach for the treacherous boy who had clearly aided in the ambush. He did not find the little miscreant, but did see his brother wincing at the water line, his hand clamped over his arm as blood oozed from beneath his fingers.

“Liam!” Killian cried, rushing to his brother’s side. “You are wounded!”

“It’s nothing,” Liam said, attempting to wave him off. “Merely a flesh wound.”

Unable to keep his balance, Liam practically fell into Killian, who wasted no time in tucking himself under his captain's arm.

“Starkey!” Killian called out, gaining their bosun’s attention. “See that the prisoners are transported back to the ship in the other dinghy. I’m taking the captain back to tend to his wound.”

“Aye, aye!” Starkey replied, ordering two of their men to accompany the captain and lieutenant back to the Jewel.

By the time Killian managed to get his brother back on board and safely within the captain’s quarters, Liam’s complexion had become sickly pale and his skin clammy. When Killian insisted on seeing the wound, Liam muttered something about Killian fussing like an old woman.

“Let me see!” Killian barked in command, taking his brother aback enough that he complied.

Rolling up his sleeve revealed a nasty gash on his forearm, but more alarming than the blood were the black streaks running along his veins beneath his skin.

“What the devil?” Killian muttered, examining the pattern branching up Liam’s arm.

“I think it was… whatever they had… coated on their… blades,” Liam said, his breathing clearly labored. “Some sort of… poison, perhaps?”

Poison.

“Dreamshade,” Killian exhaled on a panicked breath before launching himself towards the cabinets at the far end of Liam’s cabin. “There must be a cure,” he said, rifling through the bottles of potions and elixirs the fairies had supplied them with. “An antidote or magical healing potion that can--”

“Oh, you won’t find a cure in there,” a voice quipped from behind him.

Spinning around, Killian found himself face to face with the demon boy they’d met on shore. Pan.

“He'll die as soon as the poison reaches his heart.”

His callous tone had Killian seeing red. Grabbing the boy by his tunic, Killian slammed him against the steps that led up to the helm, hook at his throat as he demanded, “Tell me how to save him!”

Pan appeared more amused, excited even, than terrified, and merely hummed before confessing, “There is a way to stop him from dying.”

“Tell me,” Killian snarled, releasing Pan and taking a step back so the boy could procure something from his belt.

“Pixie dust,” Pan stated, holding up a pouch that somehow shimmered despite its dark leather exterior. “Powerful stuff, and easily capable of curing any ill. Even dreamshade.”

Killian reached out to take the pouch, but Pan toyingly pulled it away. “I must warn you,” he said in a tone of mock seriousness. “All magic comes with a price, and this dust is no exception. Don't use it unless you're willing to pay.”

“Whatever the cost. Whatever you want. It's yours,” Killian agreed.

Pan held his gaze for a second more then handed the pouch over. Killian wasted no time. After righting his brother, who was nearly slumped off his chair and unconscious, he pulled the pouch open with his teeth then poured the contents on the festering wound that was nearly black as pitch. The glittering substance shone brightly as it reacted with the poison, forcing Killian to shield his eyes.

“Brother!” Killian shouted, shaking Liam’s shoulders and willing him to wake up. “Brother!”

Jolting awake, Liam sucked in a deep breath and swallowed thickly, his eyes casting about as he got his bearings. “That's captain to you,” he croaked out cheekily when his eyes landed on Killian, attempting to assuage his brother’s concerns. Getting to his feet, he let Killian help stabilize him as he asked, “What happened?”

Relieved to see the ruddy vitality return to his brother’s cheeks and no remnant of the vile dreamshade clogging his veins, Killian chortled, “It doesn't matter. Let's pay the boy and be on our way.”

“What boy?” Liam inquired, prompting Killian to turn circles within the cabin.

“Boy!” he called out, unnerved by the way the brat seemed to appear and disappear into thin air. “What do you want?” he called out again, when suddenly, from overhead, shouts began to bellow on deck.

“Is that…”

The acrid scent hit Killian at the same time as his brother and their heads snapped towards each other as they exclaimed, “Fire!”

Scrambling up the hatch steps, they were met with chaos as the crew floundered helplessly under the flying embers of the pegasus sail, its golden plumage being consumed by flames.

“What is the meaning of this!” Liam shouted. “Who is responsible for--”

“I decided what I wanted,” a now familiar voice stated from behind. “I want this ship and a crew to serve it… and me. That’s my price.”

Dread laced with fury washed over Killian. Stepping forward he towered over the demon boy and through clenched teeth declared, “No. I never agreed to--”

“Whatever the cost. Whatever you want. It's yours,” Pan parroted his own words back to him, a self-satisfied smirk twitching at his lips that made Killian’s blood boil.

“I cannot pay you with something that is not mine to give.” Sweeping his arm out towards the men, he said, “These men’s lives are not mine to barter, and are therefore exempt from having to pay the debt I alone owe.” Casting a glance towards his brother, Killian swallowed hard before turning back to the boy. “It was my brother’s life you spared, so it is my life… my service alone that--”

“No!” Liam shouted. “Killian, don’t be a fool. None of us shall pay such a price.” It was now Liam who loomed over the boy, who appeared as bored as ever. Drawing himself up to full height, Liam commanded, “You may have taken our sail, but that does not leave us without means to leave this place.” Calling out over his shoulder, Liam bellowed, “Lieutenant! Take a contingent of men and retrieve George’s sail. Starkey! Take this miscreant to the brig.”

Killian wanted to argue, unable to shake the feeling of dread the boy’s presence wrought over him, but before he could voice his concerns Pan issued his own warning.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Captain. Your brother made a deal for the island’s magic, and all magic comes with a price. You would be wise to honor the cost.”

“Your cost is too high,” Liam sneered. “I won’t see any of my men forced into your servitude, especially my brother, simply for my sake.”

“Very well, then,” Pan quipped with a shrug. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Liam scoffed and turned his back on the boy. Setting his sights on Killian, who still had not made a move to carry out his earlier order, Liam opened his mouth to issue it again when his face purpled and a choking sound emitted from the back of his throat. Killian watched in horror as his brother collapsed, the sprawling blackness of the dreamshade once again snaking its way up the veins of his neck.

“Liam!” Killian rushed to his brother's side and gathered him in his arms. “No! No, no, no, please!”

“I did warn him,” Pan drawled in a taunting tone. “He should have paid up when he had the chance.”

“Let me pay,” Killian begged. “The deal was struck between us. You and me. I’ll stay in exchange for my brother’s life and our men’s freedom. Save him, return them all to our kingdom, and I’ll remain here. In your service. For as long as you wish.”

“And the ship?”

Killian hesitated. The Jewel wasn’t truly his to give, but surely their Majesties would value the lives of their subjects over a vessel they’d only acquired in battle.

“Aye. The ship as well.”

Crouching down in front of the brothers, Pan’s indifference to the gurgles and gasps of dying breath from the elder sprawled prone in the younger’s embrace only heightened Killian’s terror as the boy stated, “Ten years.”

“What?”

“I want to make sure the terms are clear this time,” Pan clarified. “Ten years of service from you and this ship, with no interference from your brother or your kingdom.” His cold eyes shifted down to Liam’s, which were wide and bloodshot with panic. “If you make any attempt to rescue your brother or take back this vessel, I’ll consider the deal forfeit… as well as your lives. Yours, your brothers, and anyone else who mettles. Deal?”

“Yes,” Killian agreed, desperately. “We have a deal.”

“Captain?” Pan inquired of Liam, who could only nod his consent, though reluctantly. “Excellent.”

With a wave of his hand Liam’s malady was lifted, but before Killian could assist his brother back on his feet, Pan flicked his wrist again and Liam, along with the rest of the crew, disappeared before his very eyes.

“What have you done with them?” Shooting to his feet, Killian grabbed the brat by his tunic and began shaking him violently. “Where have they gone? Tell me!”

“Relax,” Pan replied. “I’m keeping up my end of the bargain.” Turning his head, he nodded towards the far end of the coastline. “There. Your brother, fellow crewmen, and captives are there.”

Killian’s head snapped in the direction of Pan’s gaze, and he loosened his grip on the boy as a ship, King George’s ship, came into view as it rounded the coast. The main sail was not the golden color he’d expected, knowing George’s men had also used a pegasus sail to reach the island. Instead, a sail blacker than night whipped briefly until it caught the winds, billowing out towards the sea.

“What sort of dark magic…” Killian murmured beneath his breath, but the question was cut short when he witnessed the vessel begin to lift out of the waters. Scrambling to get a better view, Killian pulled his spyglass from where it was usually stowed at the helm and peered through the lens. Across the expanse he caught sight of his brother, peering back at him through his own glass. Killian’s heart constricted in his chest. He had not even the chance to say good-bye. Had not been given the opportunity to set his affairs in order. There was so much he'd wished to say, so much he’d wanted his brother to know and to impart upon others who had become important in his life.

Tinkerbelle, the other fairies, Queen Snow, King David. What would they think about the deal he’d struck? What would become of his brother and the other men when they returned without the fleet’s prized vessel? Would they be punished? Demoted? Would his actions become a millstone around their necks for the next ten years?

As the levitated vessel grew smaller and smaller, making its way through the skies, Killian could only pray that the fact that they’d been successful in thwarting George from obtaining dreamshade would be enough to satisfy the king. When at last he lost sight of the ship within the clouds, Killian lowered the spyglass and heaved a despondent sigh while choking back tears. Though he may not know the plight Pan’s service might bring him, nor the response of the king when Liam returned, one thing he did know was Misthaven’s war with King George was far from over, and he would not be there to protect his brother, fight for his sovereigns, or prove he was worthy of the boon the king had already gifted him. A boon that would go unclaimed and unfulfilled.

He supposed he ought to be grateful the Law of Surprise did not work in reverse. He would not wish this misfortune on anyone.

“There, there,” the voice he’d already come to hate patronized. Killian stiffened when the bastard approached, standing beside him and gazing out upon the Neverland waters. “Is it really so bad?”

Killian did not respond. His years of indenture taught him to hold his tongue, and though he was loath to be back in a position of servitude he would shoulder the burden and play the part of compliance, unwilling to give the demon any recourse that might alter their deal and prolong his sentence.

Wiping away the vestiges of the emotional farewell to his former life, Killian straightened his posture and faced his new master. “The ship and I are at your command. What are your orders?”

Pan smiled, a sickening expression that made Killian’s stomach churn, and circled his quarry. “I do have an errand for you, but I’m afraid it must wait until my shadow returns.”

Killian’s brows scrunched in confusion, but he said nothing.

“Until then…” Pan halted his steps and squared himself off with Killian, his hands clasped behind his back as he rolled onto his heels. “I think a makeover is in order. For you and the ship.”

“A makeover?”

“Indeed.” Snapping his fingers, Pan’s smile grew broader as Killian was knocked off kilter. Steading himself, he realized his entire wardrobe had changed. Gone were the crisp white linens and gold embroidered navy wool of his uniform. In their place was a pair of buttery soft black leather pants, a billowing, smoke-hued blouse beneath a silver garnished, corseted leather waistcoat, and an adornment of rings and pendants.

“What the devil?” Flicking his bewildered eyes to Pan, he balked when the boy extended a can of paint and brush towards him.

“Here,” he said. “I’ve seen to your makeover, you can see to the ship’s.”

“And what, exactly, am I to make over?” Killian asked through the tick in his jaw.

“Her name,” Pan declared, as though the answer were obvious. “You no longer sail the Jewel of the Realm,” he informed Killian. “From now until your service has ended, she’ll be known as… The Jolly Roger.”

Killian swallowed the bile creeping up his throat, his fist clenching at his side. “So you mean to make me a pirate.”

Pan’s gaze flicked down to the hook braced at the end of Killian’s left arm, then slowly scanned its way back up. “Oh, I think you and I both know there’s a part of you that’s always been a pirate. Now the exterior and occupation will match the man beneath.”

Anger sparked within him. How dare the little devil associate his hook, gifted to him by the Queen for what it represented to them both, with something as vile and villainous as piracy. “You know nothing about me,” Killian seethed.

“Perhaps not,” Pan shrugged. “But we’ve ten long years together. I imagine we’ll come to know one another quite well by the end of this… arrangement.” Setting the paint at Killian’s feet, Pan’s tone hardened. “Ready your ship, Captain. It’s a pirate’s life for you. For the next ten years at least.”

Killian balked at the boy’s sudden disappearance, then gave himself a moment to come to terms with all the demon had said. He was right. For better or worse, this is the deal he had struck. Picking up the can and brush, Killian made his way to the bow and with a heavy heart, rechristened the Jewel.

Later that evening, with the ship’s main sail infused by a spectre Pan referred to as his shadow, it was not the Jewel of the Realm that departed Neverland. No. The Jolly Roger set sail to complete her first mission. A mission to transport orphaned, abandoned, and truant boys from a lawless place called Pleasure Island back to Neverland. A mission carried out not by Lieutenant Killian Jones of Their Majesties’ Royal Navy of Misthaven, but by the blackguard who would come to be known as the scourge of the seas, a villain whose soul would be described as being as black and depraved as the sail he hoisted. The fearsome and reviled pirate, Captain Hook.

Part Two

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