#captain charming fanfiction

[fallenangelicss]

Sweet And Spice

PAIRING | Bridget | Queen of Hearts/James Hook

WORD COUNT | 1957

SUMMARY | Bridget's gone missing. Or at least, Red and Chloe can't find her after they get split up for a class they've been forced into. Worried something irreversible might happen while she's out of their sight, they recruit Ella to help locate her. What they uncover is far from what they thought they'd find.

RATING | General Audiences

WARNING/TAG(S) | No Archive Warnings Apply

A/N | First time writing for Descendants, hope you all like it!

EVENTS | @eclipsingbingo | Playing With Someone's Hair | @fandombingo | Unexpected Visitor | @anyfandomfluffbingo | "It's Not Like This With Them" | @multifandom-flash | The Jabberwocky | Heal The Cutie | I Did What I Had To Do | Don't You Dare Pity Me | @fandom-free-bingo | Whumper Turned Caretaker | Failure To Remain Impartial | Nervous Laughter | @character-a-character-b | Rivals To Lovers

AO3 LINK | Read Here

“Hey, Ella,” Red called as she saw the younger version of her newfound friend's mum walk out of one of her classes, a hand raised to wave her over. Chloe’s brows pinched together as her eyes scanned between her mother and Red, attempting to decipher what Red could possibly want with her mum instead of her own. Once Ella stepped over to them, Chloe shook herself out of her thoughts and shot Ella a smile, both of them waiting for Red to speak up once again. “Have you seen Bridget? We haven’t seen her since the whole Uliana incident.”

“No, I haven’t seen her either come to think of it,” Ella murmured, taking a quick scan around the hallway the three of them were in before a concerned look made its way onto her face. Chloe couldn’t tell what that look could mean, unexpectedly foreign to everything about this version of her mum. “But I can help you look for her since my next class is with her.”

“Great,” Red exclaimed, a large grin spreading across her face as she hovered around Ella. Still unused to the layout of Auradon or Merlin Academy, Red didn’t know where to begin looking, leaving that up to Ella to decide. Chloe may have a bit more luck in the sense of the direction, visiting Auradon occasionally to see her brother whenever there was an event taking place at the school, but it was still vastly different to what she had come to know. “Do you have any ideas where she could be? Any places that she goes to when she needs to think or… something?”

“Have you checked her dorm?” Ella asked to which both girls nodded in response to, Briget’s dorm being the first place they checked once they were able to get away from one of the classes they had been roped into. That made Ella’s face contort a bit more as she thought of all the unusual places Bridget might be lurking in between classes. She must’ve had a free period, Ella thought. There wasn’t enough time in between classes to hang out or do whatever, there was hardly enough to even go to your locker and get the book you needed. “She might be in the courtyard somewhere. She normally sits out there when she's looking for a new recipe to try out.”

“That’s perfect,” Chloe said, ready to start walking and go looking for Bridget. With how close Castlecoming was, they couldn’t afford for her to leave their sight. As Chloe walked through the hallway, a loud cough caught her attention. Spinning on her heel to see what was up, she came face to face with Ella who was staring at her with a raised brow. Right, Merlin Acadamy was different to Auradon Prep. With a sheepish smile, Chloe asked, “Would you like to lead the way?”

“Sure,” Ella responded with a crooked smile before starting off in the right direction, leading the newcomers to where Bridget could potentially be. They walked for a few moments in silence, Red and Chloe slightly behind Ella’s pacing as they eyed one another, attempting to have a silent conversation as to what Bridget may be doing and how this could be related to the prank that created their future when Ella turned around abruptly, walking backwards as she asked, “Why do you need to find Bridget anyway?”

“Uh,” Red floundered for a second, trying to think of a lie on the spot while Chloe was two seconds away from revealing the truth about everything. The longer they took to answer, the more suspicious Ella grew, her eyes narrowing a bit as her pace slowed, forcing them to shorten their steps to not overtake Ella. “She said she’d show us around to all of our classes but we didn’t know where to meet her after each one so we’re a bit lost.”

“Makes sense,” Ella nodded, spinning back around to lead them out of the school's building and into the large open space the grounds had. Red’s eyes instantly began scanning the area for her mum, hoping to find some pink peeking out from around a corner so she could relax and know her mum was safe. “I could also show you guys around if you ever needed it. Normally they have someone give new students a tour if they come late in the year but they must’ve forgotten to this time.”

“Yeah, must’ve,” Chloe trailed off, joining Red in her search. Ella looked to be the only one who wasn’t actively looking for Bridget, just leading them around and hoping they would stumble upon her, though Ella must’ve had to find Bridget on numerous occasions to not be concerned at all as to where she might be. “Does Bridget disappear often? You just seem really calm even though we don’t know where she is.”

“Bridget’s a big girl, she can take care of herself,” Ella easily supplied, shrugging her shoulders as they continued their search. The more they looked, the more Chloe was beginning to lose hope that Bridget might be in the courtyard, though the grounds seemed to stretch on for ages. If they didn’t find her soon then they might have to try a different location, though Chloe wasn’t sure how much longer Ella could stay with them before she was late for class. They had already been gone for quite a while so there was no doubt in Chloe’s mind that classes had already begun. “That and this isn’t the first time she’s lost track of time and missed a couple minutes of class trying to find something new to bake. I normally always find her in the same spot which should be right around here.”

Just as Ella said it, the three of them rounded a corner, in front of them but still a few metres away was Bridget sitting at a picnic bench, her skirt fanning around her seat as a closed cooking book was placed in the space next to her. Chloe could see the side of her face, a smile on her face as she looked down at something she hadn’t yet taken notice of. Getting ready to call out to the cheerful girl, Chloe was suddenly yanked back by her jacket, the breath leaving her as she was pulled behind the wall they just stepped around. 

“What was that for?” Chloe hissed, looking over her shoulder to where Red was clutching onto her. 

“Look,” Red whispered while pointing at Bridget. Chloe’s head spun back around to see what she was trying to indicate to look at. Squinting her eyes to try and help, Chloe was about to raise another question when she finally spotted what Red was trying to show her. Kneeled just in front of Bridget was Captain Hook. Chloe’s jaw dropped at the sight of Bridget’s hands being held by James Hook as the two spoke to one another.

“We’re too far away to hear what they’re saying,” Ella murmured, crouched on the floor as her head stuck around the corner and tried to get a better look. It was to no avail though as the picnic table and Bridget blocked most of Captain Hook. “We need to get closer?”

“How?” Chloe asked, not seeing any hiding points they could use to their advantage. Chloe didn’t get any form of response as Ella took off in a crouched run to a nearby tree, hiding behind it before Bridget or Hook could get wind of her actions. Chloe was again about to ask another question before Red followed in Ella’s actions, making quick work of getting to the large oak tree and hiding behind it. The two of them looked at Chloe expectantly, waiting for her to join them. Murmuring to herself, Chloe said before she made a quick sprint to the tree, “Here goes nothing.”

Taking quick steps, Chloe almost slammed into Red in her efforts to get behind the tree without being noticed. It seemed it didn’t matter what they did though as Bridget and Hook were too caught up in one another to pay attention to them. 

“You know,” Hook started, reaching a hand up to curl some of Bridget’s hair around his finger. The grin on Bridget’s face immediately widened at the action, a trickle of nervous laughter escaping her lips as she waited for him to finish his sentence. At the same time that Bridget’s laughter reached their ears, Red stiffened next to them, clearly not liking the sight in front of them. “The two of us are going to be awfully late to our next class.”

“If he doesn’t back away I’m going to feed him to the Jabberwocky,” Red hissed, hands scrunching into tight fists.

“That’s okay,” Bridget’s voice came out in an airy sigh, almost leaning into Hook’s hand. She looked completely smitten, like she was hanging onto Hook’s every action and word. “As long as I get to spend time with you away from the others then it doesn’t matter.”

“About that,” Hook sighed, backing up from Bridget only slightly, his hand leaving her hair to once again fiddle with her delicate fingers. Bridget’s brows furrowed at the unexpected retreat, a sombre expression captivating Hook’s face and making her more aware of what was happening. “I’m sorry about the whole Uliana thing that happened earlier. I told her it was pointless to steal your flamingo feathers but you know Uliana; she always has to be doing something she considers wicked.”

“Oh, that’s whatever,” Bridget easily brushed off, her shoulders bunching up in a shrug as she acted like being chased around the school by an angry Uliana who had been turned partly into a flamingo was no big deal. “I tried to warn her but she just didn’t listen.”

“Maybe next time you can save me one of your cupcakes before they get ruined?” Hook suggested, making Bridget grin shyly and her legs to swing back in little kicks.

“Why is he acting like this in front of my mum- Bridget? In front of Bridget?” Red said, having to save herself since they were in front of Ella. The two of them must be starting to look really suspicious since Chloe had also messed up in front of Ella, accidentally calling her mum as well, although she hadn’t been able to save it as gracefully.

“He must not be able to act this way in front of his own friends,” Chloe suggested, baffled by the turn of events that was playing out in front of them.

“Whatever the reason, I don’t like it.”

“Maybe we should leave them be for a bit,” Ella warned, her eyes stuck to the way Bridget and Hooked were glued to one another, their eyes never straying from the other as they spoke, secluded from everyone else. “It feels like we’re intruding.”

“I’ll make sure I bake extra next time,” One of Bridget’s hands lightly flicked to the cookbook by her side, its cover a mixture of pastels. Her lashes seemed to be fluttering wildly at Hook as a soft blush coated her cheeks. Hook’s face remained a mixture of content and smug as his thumb ran along the back of the hand that Bridget let him keep. Shyly, Bridget offered, “Maybe you can help me taste test, James?” “Yep, definitely time to leave,” Red announced, grabbing onto Chloe’s arm and pulling her away before she could hear any objections. Ella chased after them once she realised they were gone, but not after watching Bridget and Hook for a few extra moments. Before Ella caught up enough for her to hear, Red mumbled to Chloe, “I’m not watching as my mum flirts with Captain Hook.”

[crowpickingss]

I LOVE CHARMING X HOOK, could you do Hook x reader x Charming where the VK' found out that Hook is daiting two royals so they start ignoring him, which made Hook really sad but reader and Charming tell him to come with their Friends (Ella, Bridget,...) and at the end Hook realize how good friendships could work.

At the end of the day the three of them stay in reader's room consoling Hook because he still sad about all that happend and Charming and reader reasure him that they love him and will never leave him alone. THANKS

Forget ‘Em’

hook x charming x reader

summary: you and charming comfort hook after his friends dumped him

warnings: none

a/n: thank you for the request! I’m slowly running out of hooks photos and idk what to do

—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—

You cared deeply about both of your boyfriends, if someone did anything to them you were the first to console them. As much as you wanted to fight them being a royal meant you had strict rules to follow outside or inside your castle.

You were glad you found another royal to dump your feelings onto because he understood and while hook didn’t fully understand his suggestions helped.

Hook had been looking more sad recently. He wouldn’t go on dates, barely hung out with you and strangely his friends. After a week of his not showing up you and charming started to get worried.

You two decided to meet up in your dorm to discuss a plan “What are we going to do, he can’t just ignore us for the rest of the year” You nodded “It’s also not just us he’s been ignoring, I haven’t seen whim with his friends at all…wait” Charming titled his head “What?”

You sat down on the bed “Ugh I am so stupid” Charming sat down next to you “Woah okay you are not stupid” You sighed “Hooks been avoiding us because his friends found out” Charming froze, he had caused one of the people he loved the most to be in so much pain and still hadn’t tried to help.

He stood up grabbed your hand and took you outside of the dorm. He pulled you to hooks and knocked on the door. Hook opened the door looking slightly different than usual “oh uh hi” You pushed past him into his dorm which was messier than usual “Okay hook you’re going to tell us what happened now” He sighed and took a seat on the floor “My friends don’t want to be my friends anymore, apparently I’m too good for them now”

You sat down beside him and hugged him tight “I’m so sorry, but why didn’t you tell us” Hook swallowed hard “The reason they said I was too good was because I was dating two royals” He rested his head in his knees.

You kissed him on the cheek getting his attention “Be friends with our friends, if they don’t want you then don’t crawl back to them” He raised his head “Do you think they would forgive me?” This time charming spoke up “Bridget yes she’s too nice for this world but Ella you’re going to have or give it some time” He nodded “Now let’s get this mess cleaned up and go on an ocean date or something” Hook laughed “An ocean date what does that entail” You roll you eyes “The ocean”

—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

The Role of Daddy Charming--A birthday gift for @jrob64

The Role of Daddy Charming

Rating: PG

Relationship: Daddy Charming and Captain Swan

Summary: 4x2 “deleted scene”.  David Nolan had played many roles in his life, but by far the one he's found most important was that of “dad”. The fact that he hadn’t been able to be there for Emma throughout the first 28 years of her life was one of his greatest regrets, so when he noticed the infamous Captain Hook’s interest in his daughter–and even more concerning, her returning that interest–he was determined to intervene. That is, of course, until she was trapped behind an ice wall, and David saw just how deeply and sincerely Killian Jones truly loved her.

Also posted here: ao3

Tagging a few people who may be interested (Let me know if you want to be added or taken off the list): @sailormew4 @annaamell @flslp87 @emmateo26 @bethacaciakay 

@ultraluckycatnd @effulgent-mind @ilovemesomekillianjones @brooke-to-broch 

@missgymgirl @galadriel26 @the-lady-of-misthaven @charmingturkeysandwich 

@jennjenn615 @laschatzi @kimmy46 @snowbellewells @iamanneenigma

@daxx04 @nickillian  @gillie  @britishguyslover @ginnyjinxedandhanshotritafirst

@kmomof4 @linda8084 @golfgirld @captain-swan-coffee @searchingwardrobes 

@hollyethecurious @laughswaytoomuch  @allyourdarlingswans  @winterbaby89 @facesiousbutton82 

@therooksshiningknight @lfh1226-linda @tiganasummertree @jrob64  @anmylica 

@booksteaandtoomuchtv @i-will-sing-no-requiem @bluewildcatfanatic @laianely

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It's finally done! I'm sorry your birthday gift is 11 days late @jrob64, but I hope you've at least enjoyed the little snippets I posted on discord as I wrote this! Happy belated birthday!

And without further ado....

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Throughout his life, David Nolan had played many roles.  He’d been a son, a brother, a shepherd, a prince, a vet tech, a sheriff’s deputy, but by far, the roles he took most seriously were his roles as husband and father.

If there’s one thing he’d known all his life, it was that he wanted to be a better father than he’d had.  He wanted to be present in his children’s lives.  He’d vowed never to abandon them.

And so it was the greatest regret of his life that he’d done just that mere minutes after his daughter was born.  

Granted, he was forced into the action; it was necessary to protect Emma and give her her best chance.  Still, the shame and heartbreak of that decision had haunted him for the past twenty-nine years.

Surprisingly, during the first curse he’d felt it still, even if he hadn’t known what it was.  More often than he cared to recall, he’d had vague dreams of the black knights, of the wardrobe, of being ripped from someone vitally important to him.  The gloom and near despair of those dreams hung over him like a thundercloud. He’d woken feeling–knowing–that he wasn’t enough, that he’d failed at the most important task of his life.

Once he’d regained his memories and once he realized Emma was back in his life, he’d vowed to make up for lost time, to be the father she’d always needed, to protect her at all costs.

And so it was, when he sat at his kitchen table silently sipping his coffee and staring sightlessly out the window on the morning after the incident at the ice wall, he felt relief…but also helplessness.  He’d almost lost her.  Again.

Snow came up behind him, wrapped an arm around his shoulder and kissed his cheek before taking a seat next to him.

“That’s quite the bleak look on your face,” she whispered. Elsa was, after all, presumably still asleep behind the curtain they’d draped in front of the sofa to give her a bit of privacy. “Yesterday really shook you up, didn’t it?”

He blew out a long breath. “She came this close to freezing to death on my watch, Snow.”

She took his hand and squeezed it.  “But she didn’t.  From all I’ve heard, you were magnificent.  Took charge and found a way to save her.”

He chuckled humorlessly. “I was terrified, but Killian…Killian was, if anything, even worse.  Never seen a man so completely panicked.”

“He loves her,” she said simply, a radiant smile on her face. “I wouldn’t have believed it when we first met him in the Enchanted Forest, but he’s a good man, and he truly loves her.”

“Yeah, I’m starting to get that impression,” David agreed.  “Did you know I gave him that ‘What are your intentions with my daughter?’ speech yesterday before…well…everything?”

“Really?  What did he say?”

“First he gave me hell for being old-fashioned, and then he told me he wouldn’t risk his life for someone he considered loot.  And if there was still any doubt in my mind before the ice wall incident, his reaction removed it.  Whatever else I could say about him, I know he loves her.”

Snow sipped her coffee.  “Maybe you should tell him that.  Give him your blessing, if you will.”

David grimaced.  He may be–grudgingly–willing to admit it to his wife in the privacy of their own kitchen, but admitting it to Hook’s face…well, he wasn’t sure.  “Yeah, maybe when I see him again,” he hedged.

“Perfect,” Snow said.  “You’ll probably have the opportunity any minute, whenever Emma and Hook get up.”

“What?!”

“He stayed the night with her,” Snow said with a grin. “You didn’t know?”

As if to confirm Snow’s statements, Emma and Killian emerged together from the loft. David felt his innate protective dad instincts flared to life.  If Hook had taken advantage of Emma in her vulnerable post-nearly-freezing-to-death state…

“Remember what we just talked about.  He loves her,” Snow murmured only loud enough for him to hear.

David let out a long breath.  She was right.  Reacting badly now would likely only make things worse. “Fine,” he murmured back.

“Morning!” Snow called sunnily to the couple entering the kitchen, as well as Elsa who had just emerged from behind her curtain.  “Anyone want breakfast?”

“Thanks, but I’ve got to get to the station,” Emma said, “I’m sure the phones were blowing up last night with calls about the ice wall.”

“I also must decline,” Killian said, scratching behind his ear.  “I should…get back to Granny’s.”

“See you later for lunch?” Emma asked, looking up at Hook with an open–and what David thought was rather nauseatingly besotted–look.  At his answer in the affirmative, she headed out.

Snow nudged David, and he rolled his eyes.  No time like the present, he supposed.  “Let me give you a lift back to town, Hook,” he said, “I’m headed that direction anyway.”

Hook gave him a wary look, and for a moment, David hoped he was about to decline the offer.  

No such luck.

“I’d appreciate it, mate.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The first minute of their drive was passed in silence.  Killian side-eyed David uncomfortably, wondering when the questions–or probably more precisely, the accusations–would start.

His first inclination was to rile the man up further with sly grins and insinuations about what went on in the Charming’s loft the night before–after all his dashing rapscallion persona was a clock he’d worn as a shield for more years than he could count–but he quickly dismissed it.

This was Swan’s father.  If he truly wished to have a relationship with her–and he did; he wished for a relationship lasting roughly in the neighborhood of forever–it wouldn’t do to antagonize her father.  There was also the fact that he genuinely liked the man, and so…

“You know nothing…untoward…happened last night,” Killian said.

David glanced at him before turning back to the road with a grimace.  “Didn’t ask.  Don’t want to know.”

“Nevertheless,” Killian continued, “Your daughter and I certainly have more respect for you and Snow than to…engage in certain activities…underneath your very nose, not to mention the fact that her lad slept not ten feet from us.”

“Like I said, I didn’t ask,” David repeated, although Killian noted the way the other man’s face relaxed slightly at the reassurance.

“She was still cold,” Killian continued, somehow feeling the need to continue his justification.  “She asked for me to hold her, and I couldn’t refuse.  After coming so bloody close to losing her…”

David pulled into a parking spot in front of Granny’s but didn’t yet kill the engine.  The look he gave Killian this time was sympathetic, understanding. “Almost losing the woman you love does things to a man.”

“Aye,” Killian agreed.  “It was the same feeling of dread, of helplessness, as when the Crocodile crushed Milah’s heart in front of me.  If it had happened again….”

David placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.  “It didn’t,” he said firmly.  “I’ve been trying to remind myself of that all day.  It didn’t.  You didn’t lose your love and I didn’t lose my daughter.”

There was a long silence, in which Killian wondered if he ought to simply exit the vehicle.  He’d just reached for the door handle to do so when David spoke again, this time looking determinedly out the front window, rather than at him.

“There is….something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Aye?”

“That conversation we started to have yesterday, right before everything went to hell…” he continued, “look, I think I was wrong to ever question your intentions.”

“There’s no need to–” Killian began.

“I think there is,” David replied, finally turning toward to him. “It’s been obvious for a while that you love Emma, and it’s not a love that’s going away anytime soon.”

“It’s not a love that’s going away ever,” Killian said firmly.

“Yeah, I’m inclined to believe that” David said. “Anyway, if there ever had been any question about your feelings and intentions, yesterday got rid of them.  I saw how willing you were to do anything to save her.  I supposed what I’m trying to say is…I apologize for ever doubting you.”

Killian’s eyes widened.  Of all the things he’d expected the prince to say to him “I apologize” was rather far down on the list. “Apology accepted, although it is wholly unnecessary.  As someone who does truly love her, I’m pleased she has a father who cares enough to be a touch over-protective.”

David gave a quick, decisive nod.  “I won’t be old fashioned enough to give you my blessing,” he said, “but…I won’t oppose your relationship.”

“That means a great deal to me,” Killian said, “and I know it would mean a lot to Swan as well.”

“Yeah, well,” David said, “just so we’re clear, if you ever hurt her, I’ll run you through with my sword.”

Killian nodded.  “Mate, if I ever hurt her, I’d let you do it with my own.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Later that night, Emma was vegging on the couch when her dad finally made it home.  After tossing his jacket onto the coat rack, he joined her, gave her a quick hug and kissed the top of her head.  She was slowly but surely getting used to this casual affection from her parents, and it always gave her such a warm, fuzzy, loved feeling.

“Crazy day, huh?” he asked wryly.

Emma chuckled.  “I guess that depends on what you’re comparing it to.  For Storybrooke it was ho hum.”

It had certainly been a busy day.  As she’d expected, they’d had more calls than she could count about the ice wall and the snow monster–or whatever it had been–that had crashed through the town yesterday.  While she and her dad had both been working, they’d been so busy with calls and patrols, they’d barely had a chance to exchange a word all day.

“I guess you’re right about that,” David laughed.  “Any day that doesn’t involve a new villain, monster or crisis is a win around here.”

They lapsed into silence for several moments before Emma spoke again,  “Killian told me about your conversation this morning.”

David gave her a wary look.  “Before you say anything, I do know you’re a grown woman who can make her own decisions.”

She grinned.  “That’s what Killian said at lunch when I started ranting about you treating me like a teenager.  Nothing happened last night, by the way.”

“I know.  Killian told me.”

“Dad,” she said, and her heart turned over at the joy on his face at her use of the word.  “I just….I just want to thank you for, you know, caring and doing whatever you had to to save me.”

“No thanks necessary,” he said.  “You’re my daughter.  I’m always, always going to do everything in my power to help you, no matter the situation.”

She felt the tears come to her eyes.  “I think I’m finally starting to realize that.  Sorry it’s taken so long.  It’s just…I’m not used to having a dad, someone in my corner no matter what.”

Pain came into his eyes at that, and Emma realized how her words had come across. “I’m not blaming you,” she said quickly.  “I know you did what you had to to give me my best chance.”

“Still,” David said, “I wish more than anything that I’d been able to be the father you needed and deserved from the beginning.”

“I wish that too,” she murmured, almost under her breath, “but the past is the past.  You’re here now, and that means everything.”

“And I always will be,” David vowed with a decisive nod.

They lapsed into another silence, broken only by a few soft whimpers from baby Neal as Mary Margaret worked to put him down for the night–or at least as much of the night as he was willing to sleep at any one stretch.

“You know, I wasn’t the only one working frantically to save you last night,” David said slowly.

Emma felt her heart stutter and then soar as she thought of the man to whom her father was referring.  “I know.  Killian told me he’d been worried about me too.”

David blew out a long breath.  “Worried is an understatement.  He was absolutely frantic.  Emma, that man loves you.”

Emma felt the butterflies, that swooping half-excited, half-terrified feeling one gets when she falls head over heels.  She would have to be blind not to see that Killian had fallen in love with her, and she had the sneaking suspicion that somewhere along the way she’d fallen in love with him as well.  Was she ready to admit it?  She wasn’t sure.  That level of vulnerability was scary as hell.

“Yeah, maybe so,” she hedged, trying to make her voice as even as possible, “and I…I…appreciate it.”

David gave her a long look.  “Emma, I know it’s hard for you to trust.  I know it’s hard for you to let yourself believe, and I will have your back one hundred percent whatever you do, but for what it’s worth, I’d give him a chance if I were you.”

“So does that mean you think he’s good enough for me?” Emma teased, uncomfortably aware of the momentous nature of the topic at hand and feeling the need to lighten the mood..

David chuckled.  “You’re my daughter.  No one’s good enough for you, but I suppose if you have to be with someone, he’ll do.”

[amethystdreamer114]

How I think the OUAT guys would be with a littlespace reader…

Killian-

1000% protective of you- and would 10/10 make you hold his hand everywhere you went.

For sure going to text and ask you what time you went to bed, what you ate, etc.

Very lax on punishment when you do something you aren’t supposed to in little space.

Would destroy anyone who made you cry.

Would have dances and coloring sessions and tea parties with you

Rumple-

Wants to be part of your entire day from making little Dino shaped grilled cheeses to giving you a bubble bath at 2 a.m. cause you asked for it

Would not put up with you disobeying the rules. He’s gonna enforce them.

Going to use his magic to know your location at all times

He’s very cool headed but if someone hurt you, they’re going to regret life

Would be the perfect daddy if you were sick or hurt and needed comforting- we’re talking staying up all night, coddling you while you sip apple juice and watch Bluey.

Pan-

The KING of playing pretend *allows time for kingly applause*

Would be absolutely clueless if you didn’t feel well, but would want to know how he could help- so he’d probably talk to one of the lost boys and reach a game plan on his own

Very resourceful (A.K.A, if you want something, it’s going to be yours one way or another… possibly through a magic deal)

Charming-

Despite what you’d think, I’m seeing *specific* VERY WELL ENFORCED rules.

10/10 going to put your art on the fridge

Protective, but as long as you’re in his sight he’s chill.

Great cuddler in the case of a nightmare

Knows how to help you slip when you’re too nervous/panicked to on your own

[imyourbratzdoll]

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

♡ 𝒇𝒍𝒖𝒇𝒇 ➳ 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒕 ❥ 𝒔𝒎𝒖𝒕 ❦ 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌

೫˚🖤❀ *ૢ🥀೫˚🌑

𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐆𝐢𝐛𝐬𝐨𝐧 & 𝐂𝐨.

𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐧 𝐎’𝐃𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐠𝐡𝐮𝐞 & 𝐂𝐨.

𝐉𝐨𝐬𝐡 𝐃𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐬 & 𝐂𝐨.

𝐑𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲𝐥𝐞 & 𝐂𝐨.

𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐊𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐤𝐢 & 𝐂𝐨.

೫˚🖤❀ *ૢ🥀೫˚🌑

[gayashelljatp]

Prince Charming x James Hook | Trophy Boy ChapteR

Tags :Sorta Enemies to Lovers Fake/Pretend Relationship Not Canon Compliant, Inspired by Cinderella (1997), I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Prince Charming is a Bi-King, Prince Charming Is Filipino, Because the actor is and I also am one so yeah, Prince Charming gets a lot of bitches but no love, Merlin Academy (Disney), James Hook is gay, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, I don't know how to tag in this fandom, No Beta Like Not Going To Castlecoming

Summary:

Charming had himself caught up in a pretty little lie, telling his parents he had a date for his birthday ball. Desperate to stop their meddling in his love life, he came up with a plan: show up with someone who’d make the court gasp—a notorious pirate at school, James Hook. It was supposed to be a quick fix: fake a romance, cause a stir, and be free from the royal matchmakers forever. But the more time Charming spent with Hook—as a person, the sharp banter—the more complicated things got. This wasn’t just about pretending anymore. He was starting to get hooked. Or The sorta enemies to fake dating to lovers between Hook and Charming no one asked for.

Content Rating: Teen and Up.

Wordcount: 5,931

Notes (Same On AO3):

Hi, I'm Ace. But I'm here posting and writing more gay shit for the Descendants fandom.

I'm one for a crack ship and these two don't even interact in the movie so you may be wondering what made me do this. Three things actually:

I'm in the Descendants editing community and I saw this edit by @jewishvarian. Hook's actor Josh pretty much showing his support to this ship has made we want to do this.

The second inspiration is Once Upon A Time ship Captain Charming my sister had a Once Upon A Time phase so I know quite a bit about them. The third thing the catalyst for this is the fanfic Stage Call by Montythecrow. (The first chapter is really good can't wait for more. Also R.I.P. DBD I never got to make a DBD fic before it got cancelled *sighs in JATP*)

Let's do some housekeeping and explain the lore because this fic grabs from fifty million things.

- The Brandy Cinderella movie or Rodgers & Hammerstein's Cinderella (1997) as it's also known are major inspirations. I pulled the characterization of Charming from this film and the new Descendants film and I pulled the whole of Charming's parents and his butler Lionel from this movie. (Pls watch this movie. It's really fun, campy and entertaining.)

- I also took from various Prince Charming media from Cinderella movies from Disney to non-Disney. Charming (2018)'s Trophy Boy by Avril Lavigne, Ashely Tisdale and G.E.M. is where the title of this fic comes from. It's a bad movie but this song is legendary and pop perfection. A K-pop star, a Disney star, and a rock star all in one song is crazy.

- This fic has multiple POV's for Charming focused parts 👑 emojis are used on the other hook if it's James it's this emoji 🪝.

- Finally, this isn't a GayashellJATP fic without a playlist of songs I have on that help immerse you in the universe. Spotify playlist here!!!

Now that we are done with some housekeeping. Enjoy the fic & Remember to give feedback!!! It is always appreciated.

Notes (Tumblr):

I'm trying to do better on posting on here and being on time. With being a cross platform author. I still don't know how Tumblr works pls help me. Once again I suggest you read on AO3 my formatting is way better on that.

Chapter 1: Before The Ball

👑

Charming was so screwed.

He'd been excused from class by royal summons, which only meant one of two things: either bad news or... well, worse news. Lionel, the family’s loyal servant and his assigned guardian at the academy, was jittery, practically fidgeting as he escorted the skateboarding teen to the castle. 

Lionel’s nervousness only heightened Charming's suspicion—did he tattle on him sneaking out of the academy for a late-night date? Again? Or worse—had he forgotten some royal obligation that would now come back to bite him?

Despite the comfortable life he'd been born into, Charming had a talent for getting into situations that made it... uncomfortable. Usually of his own making.

The moment they arrived at the vast, gilded throne room, the knot in his stomach twisted tighter. His mother stood. Not good. Queen Constantina only stood when something serious—truly serious—was about to be discussed. Lionel cleared his throat and began the ceremonial introduction. 

“Your Royal Highness, Prince Charming—”

The Queen interrupted with a sharp glance. “Prince Christopher Rupert Windermere Vladimir—”

“Mom,” Charming sighed, cutting Lionel off. “He doesn’t have to say it every time.” The poor man practically bowed in relief when Charming gestured for him to be seated. The full name was ridiculously wordy, one of the many reasons why "Prince Charming" stuck much more easily.

“Son, you didn’t need to dismiss him,” King Maximilian spoke up from beside the queen, kissing his wife’s hand. Charming had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. 

His parents were constantly doing that—displaying affection as if they were still teenagers in love. Any love hater would have gagged, but Charming simply tried to suppress a smirk. Even he couldn't deny they were a good match, for better or worse.

“Mom. Dad. What is it this time?” Charming asked, his voice strained but trying not to sound too impatient.

“Watch your tone, Junior,” his father said, though not harshly.

Charming forced a deep breath. “Fine. What’s the big news?” he said, layering on enthusiasm that was just short of sarcasm.

The Queen exchanged a meaningful glance with her husband before turning to her son, her posture regal and dramatic all at once. "Your eighteenth birthday in two days."

“I thought—” his father began, but a sharp elbow from his wife stopped him. “We thought it would be appropriate to throw a birthday ball.”

Charming's heart sank. "A ball?" His voice came out strained. "Father, is that really necessary?"

Queen Constantina's eyes glistened with an air of theatrics as she responded, “You haven’t shown any of your potential picks for marriage. You are two years overdue for at least a partner!” Her voice hitched as though it were a tragedy in itself.

Charming had tried, of course. He'd gone on more first dates than he cared to count, but none had led to anything serious. His royal reputation for being “charming” only went so far, especially when he wasn’t charmed by anyone.

“I’m working on it,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “But Mom, I don’t think a ball for my birthday is necessary.”

“Necessary?” His mother’s voice shot up an octave, her hand flying dramatically to her chest as if she were about to swoon. “Is it necessary that I should die knowing my only son will be a lonely king?!”

Charming’s eyes widened. “Mom, please. You’re not going to—"

“I might!” she countered, her voice trembling as if the mere thought of his supposed future loneliness was too much to bear. “The idea of you being all alone without a wife or family—oh! How tragic it would be!”

Charming rubbed the back of his neck, suppressing a groan. He loved his mom, truly, but sometimes her dramatics were... a lot. “Okay, fine. I get it. But… I have someone. Already. A partner.”

The words were out of his mouth before he had a chance to think them through. His heart nearly stopped as both his parents' faces lit up.

“You do?!” his father exclaimed, clapping his hands together in glee.

The Queen looked like she was about to burst into tears of joy. “Oh, my darling boy! You’ve found someone! You’ve—”

Charming quickly nodded, feeling his stomach churn with regret. “Yep. Found someone. Really great.”

His father beamed. “That’s fantastic news, son! We were beginning to wonder if you'd ever—"

“But the ball,” Queen Constantina interjected with a flourish of her hand. “The ball must still happen! After all, it’s been paid for, and all the preparations have already been made.”

Charming’s shoulders slumped. “Of course it has…”

His mother took his hands, her eyes sparkling. “Oh, darling, I can’t wait to meet this special someone of yours. Bring her to the ball!”

"Yeah. Absolutely," Charming forced a grin, though inside, his mind raced. He was so, so screwed. Not only was the ball happening no matter what, but now he had to show up with a date—someone bad enough to stop his parents from meddling in his love life ever again.

Where on Earth was he going to find that?

👑

Charming zoomed through the academy gates on his skateboard, the wind whipping through his hair as his thoughts churned. Why had he lied? It gnawed at him, the weight of a falsehood pressing on his conscience. Lies weren’t really his thing. Now, he’d have to turn that lie into reality, or it would eat him alive.

As he skated through the courtyard, his gaze caught Fay, a fairy in training and his hexalogy class partner, sitting cross-legged on the grass, her nose buried in a spellbook. She was mumbling under her breath, waving her wand with exaggerated movements as sparks of magic fizzled in the air. 

“Hey, Fay,” he called, slowing down as he rolled over.

Fay glanced up, her wide eyes narrowing with playful frustration. “Charming, where were you?” she asked, tapping her wand against her open book. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to hex yourself and then unhex yourself without your partner? I nearly turned myself into a frog!”

“Royal duties,” Charming shrugged, offering an apologetic smile.

Fay’s expression softened immediately. She knew all too well the burden his title carried. “What did the queen say this time?” she asked, her tone light but sympathetic.

Charming rubbed the back of his neck. “We’re throwing another ball.”

Fay’s face lit up. “A ball? Isn’t that fantastic—” she paused, noticing the scowl creeping over Charming's face, “—ally… impossible to enjoy?” She attempted to course-correct, her enthusiasm dimming as she realized how much the idea clearly weighed on him. Fay wasn’t the best at being negative, but she tried.

“But I’ll make it up to you. I’ll be there for the next class.”

“You better be,” Fay huffed, but her tone was forgiving. 

“The whole kingdom’s invited. Maybe I’ll catch you at the ball?”

“Nah, I doubt it. I’ll be here practicing my spells,” she said with a shy smile, already inching back toward her book. Fay wasn’t one for social events—she always seemed to vanish from them, though Charming never asked why. 

“Well, I’ll see you later,” Charming said, giving her a quick wave.

“Later, skater!” Fay called, attempting to sound cool, which earned a chuckle from Charming. She couldn’t help but laugh at herself as he rolled away.

But as Charming skated off, Fay accidentally mispronounced her next spell. Instead of reciting "double the bubbles," she muttered "double the wobbles" under her breath. Without realizing it, she had casted a spell on Charming’s skateboard, causing it to take on a life of its own. 

Charming, an experienced skater, didn’t notice anything at first. But as he glided past the group of notorious students hanging out by the courtyard's edge, the board beneath his feet began to wobble violently, as though possessed. 

His body lurched forward, trying to steady himself, but the board had other ideas. It veered, zigzagging uncontrollably, and before Charming could react, it shot straight toward a cluster of students.

In a blur of motion, Charming collided with none other than Captain James Hook—his pirate classmate, and perhaps the academy’s most infamous heartthrob after Charming himself. With a loud thud, both boys went crashing to the ground, Hook's shiny golden hook clattering against the stone courtyard as they tumbled in a tangle of limbs.

Charming groaned, disentangling himself. “I’m so sorry!” he blurted, scrambling to his feet. His skateboard had spun off and smacked into a nearby tree, finally bringing the spell to a halt.

Hook stood up slowly, glaring down at Charming with narrowed eyes. His gaze was sharp and menacing, but there was a flicker of something else—jealousy? Amusement? It was hard to tell. 

“You really are a royal asshole, aren’t you?” Hook growled, dusting off his crimson blazer. His voice dripped with venom, but there was something undeniably captivating about the way he spoke. “Gunning for me, were you?”

“No! No, I swear. I didn’t mean to—I lost control of the board.”

Hook didn’t seem convinced. He stepped closer, his imposing presence casting a shadow over Charming. “You were heading straight toward me, mate,” Hook said, his tone dangerously low. His golden hook gleamed as he pointed it directly at Charming’s perfect face. “That doesn’t seem like much of an accident.”

Charming’s heart pounded as his eyes flicked from Hook’s face to the hook hovering too close for comfort. He held up his hands in surrender, his voice calm and soothing. “Whoa, easy,” he said, gently grabbing Hook’s wrist and pushing the hook away from his face. For a brief second, his fingers brushed against Hook’s skin.

For just a moment, Charming couldn’t help but notice Hook. The sharp features, the dark, windswept hair, the way his crimson blazer framed his broad shoulders. And those eyes—intense, narrowed in suspicion, but undeniably alluring. 

Charming blinked, snapping out of it. He was in trouble, not admiring the guy who was about to gut him like a fish.

Hook, however, seemed to notice Charming’s lingering gaze. His eyes flashed with something almost wild, and a wicked smirk curled on his lips. “What’s the matter, Prince? Distracted?”

“Uh, no. Not at all. Just… don’t want to get impaled, that’s all.”

Hook raised an eyebrow, amused but not backing down. “Right.” He clicked his tongue, his hook gleaming in the sunlight as he let it fall to his side. “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood today. Or else…” He let the threat hang in the air, his eyes still burning into Charming’s.

“Right, yeah. Lucky,” Charming muttered, his pulse still racing. He wasn’t sure if it was from the near-death experience or the fact that Hook was standing way too close. He hadn’t expected Hook to be so—well, so much. Why was he noticing that now?

Hook’s smirk lingered as he stepped back, finally giving Charming some space. “Try not to skate into any more of your classmates, mate. Especially not me or my crew got it?.” He turned, flipping his collar with an air of superiority, though there was a glint in his eye as he strode away. 

Charming watched him leave, shaking his head. Hook was dangerous—and not just because of the hook. There was something else there. Something he really needed to avoid.

But as he glanced back at his skateboard lying against the tree, the thought struck him: maybe, just maybe, Hook was exactly the kind of problem he needed. 

If he could bring Hook to the ball, that would surely get his parents off his back. Right? 

How would he ever get Hook to agree to that? He was really, really screwed.

🪝

Hook was seething. What a clueless little prince, he thought, his jaw clenched as he stormed through the academy's halls. Charming had to be the most oblivious royal he'd ever met. For someone so poised and charming, the prince had no idea how to navigate the real world. 

Not that Hook expected much more from royals—they were all so privileged, so sheltered, so painfully clueless. That’s what made them easy marks. Their money, their fine clothes, their trinkets—it was all just there for the taking, practically begging to be lifted.

But this? This was different. Hook’s pride was bruised more than anything. Charming had made him collide with the earth, of all things, and Hook wasn’t going to forgive the little prince for sullying his pristine, mint-condition vintage blazer. He cast a quick glance at the fabric—no visible damage, but that didn’t matter. The fact that it had touched the ground at all was an unforgivable offense. 

And worse, Hook knew his crew would never let him live this down if they found out. His reputation couldn’t take a hit like that, not when he had spent so much time cultivating it. He had to get his revenge. Teach the prince a lesson.

So, during storybook history class, Hook slipped out unnoticed. He snuck across the academy grounds to the royal dormitory— Full of one bed and customized rooms, unlike less privileged students. They weren’t allowed to deface their rooms and they had a roommate system. But Hook wasn’t complaining his roommate was pretty great.

But he wasn’t here to brood. No, he was here to act.

Charming’s dorm was up ahead, and Hook was relieved to see no sign of that bothersome butler Lionel. Of course, the little prince needs a servant to wait on him hand and foot, Hook thought, rolling his eyes. He always found it odd—off-putting, even—that Charming couldn’t go anywhere without a personal attendant. How soft and pampered could you get?

Hook approached Charming’s door, a sly grin spreading across his face. With a quick glance down the hallway, he slipped his golden hook into the lock, working it with practiced ease. Today, he was wearing his favorite hook—the golden one that added a touch of class to his ensemble. He’d have to be careful not to scratch it. The lock gave way with a soft click, and Hook pushed the door open, slipping inside.

The room smelled of expensive cologne, and everything was arranged perfectly. Typical royal. Hook sneered. He moved to the wardrobe, his eyes scanning the rows of pristine clothes. 

Charming had quite the collection—mostly royal-styled barongs and beige outfits, which made Hook wrinkle his nose. Beige? Ugh, he thought with disdain. Not his color at all. Where was the flair, the vibrancy? Not a single dark or deep color in sight. Charming had such a boring taste in clothes for someone so well-dressed.

Still, a theft was a theft. Hook rifled through the clothes, trying to find something worth taking. Surely the prince won’t miss a few pieces, he thought, tossing aside a particularly dull-looking beige tunic.

What Hook didn’t realize was how much time he’d spent browsing

But time had gotten away from him, and Hook hadn’t realized how long he’d been sifting through the prince’s belongings until he heard the unmistakable sound of the door opening behind him.

“Looking for something?” came a voice that was far too calm for Hook’s liking.

Hook froze, hand halfway through a drawer of silk cravats. Slowly, he turned around, his heart sinking as he locked eyes with Prince Charming standing in the doorway with a smirk, arms crossed over his chest. He hadn’t expected to get caught—he never got caught.

Hook blinked, trying to regain his composure. “Ah skater boy,” he began, straightening up and smoothing his jacket. “This… is not what it looks like.”

Charming raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Really? Because it looks like you’re in my room rifling through my wardrobe.”

Hook swallowed, his mind racing for an excuse. He’d been in tight spots before, but this? This was a mess. “I was, uh… inspecting your clothing choices. Offering a little… constructive criticism, you might say,” Hook replied, flashing a crooked grin, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He wasn’t used to feeling this off-kilter. “No offense, mate, but 50 shades of tan and beige? Really?”

Charming’s expression remained neutral, though there was a glint of something unreadable in his eyes. “And you thought breaking into my room was the best way to offer fashion advice?”

Before Hook could answer, Lionel appeared in the doorway, eyes wide as they flickered between the pirate and the prince. “Am I interrupting, sir? I didn’t expect a guest,” Lionel said, his voice a touch too polite, suspicion creeping in.

Charming, without losing his cool, glanced slightly over his shoulder at Lionel but didn’t shift his focus from Hook. “It’s fine, Lionel. Could you give us a moment?” His tone was dismissive but not unkind, the sort of royal command that left no room for argument.

"Of course, Your Highness," Lionel replied, a touch too formal as he bowed and quickly excused himself, but not without one last curious glance, probably wondering if he had just witnessed the beginnings of some lovers' quarrel. The door closed softly behind him.

The moment Lionel left, Hook let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He eyed Charming warily, wondering how much trouble he was in. He hated the feeling of being cornered, especially by a royal.

“So…” Hook began, his voice dripping with false confidence. “No need to make this a big deal, yeah? You’re not going to go crying to Merlin, are you?”

Charming’s lips curled into a small smile. “I’m not planning on it, no.”

Sweet relief washed over Hook, but it was short-lived as Charming took a step closer, his tone turning just a shade more serious. “But I can’t just let this slide either, can I?”

Hook swallowed, his bravado faltering for a moment. “I only did this after our little incident,” he blurted out, trying to regain control of the conversation. He gestured vaguely between them, referencing their earlier collision.

Charming tilted his head slightly, as if considering Hook’s words. “And you thought breaking into my room and raiding my wardrobe was the right way to even the score?”

Hook’s mind scrambled for a sweet escape. “Look you don’t need to turn me in,” he said, practically begging now.

Charming considered this for a moment, his gaze flicking over Hook’s disheveled form and the mess of clothes scattered around his room. Then, almost as if a thought occurred to him, his smile returned—this time, sharper. “Actually, I think I might have an idea. Meet me by the castleteria at dinner time.”

“A dinner? You’re not going to tell anyone about this?”

“No, not yet,” Charming replied, his voice smooth but tinged with mischief. “But if you don’t show up, then maybe we’ll reconsider the whole punishment thing.”

Hook’s stomach twisted. He hated feeling like he was at someone’s mercy, especially Charming’s. But something in the prince’s eyes told him this wasn’t just about revenge—it was about leverage. Hook didn’t know what Charming had in mind, but whatever it was, it couldn’t be good.

Still, he nodded, trying to regain his bravado. “Alright, Prince. Dinner date it is.”

Charming smirked, stepping aside to let Hook pass.

Hook left the room, heart still pounding, cursing himself under his breath. He’d been caught, and now, somehow, he was in too deep.

🪝

“Hook, what bullshit did you get into?” Uliana’s voice cut through the room like a whip, her tone sharp with irritation as she lounged on Morgie’s bed, her tentacles subtly shifting.

The five of them were crammed into Hook and Morgie’s shared dorm room, a small space that felt even smaller with Uliana’s dramatic presence filling the air. Hook, on the other hand, was sprawled lazily across his bed, legs crossed like he had not a care in the world, but deep down, his stomach churned with unease. 

Hook glanced at Uliana, who was tapping her nails against her belt buckle.. “Relax, Uliana. It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“Is it a date?” Morgie piped up, his eyes wide with genuine curiosity as he fiddled with a piece of parchment,

Hook scoffed. “Really, wizard-oo? That’s your question?” The brunnete pirate shot back, but he didn’t quite meet Morgie’s gaze, a flicker of discomfort crossing his face. “It’s not a date, you idiot.”

“You didn’t deny it, Hook, so that means you’re going on a date with that royal eyesore,” Maleficent added with a sly smirk, reclining against the wall. She twirled a strand of dark hair between her fingers.

Hook sat up, trying to regain his composure, his golden hook glinting as he gestured wildly. “He’s got a little rebel streak in him, sure, but a date? With me?” Hook forced a laugh, but it came out a little too harsh. “He’s too soft for that.”

Hades, who had been lounging in the corner, arms folded and his fiery blue hair flickering lazily, chimed in with a smirk of his own. “I dunno, mate. You see those blue streaks he’s rocking these days? Kid’s got a little fire in him. You pick them well, James.”

What did the prince have in mind for him? Why had Charming asked him to meet at dinner? He was good at handling himself, but this was different. Royals had a way of twisting things to their advantage, and he wasn’t sure he’d come out on top this time.

Uliana’s tentacles flexed, her eyes narrowing. “This better not blow back on us, Hook. You get tangled up with that prince, and we’re all screwed. I’ve got enough on my plate without cleaning up your messes.”

Morgie, ever the optimist, gave Hook a hopeful smile. “Maybe it won’t be so bad? You two could, you know... find common ground?” He shrugged, completely oblivious to the heavy glares that Uliana shot his way.

Hook grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck. “Trust me, I don’t belive in common ground I’m a pirate after all. The seas are what matter,” he muttered, but even as he said it, he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that Charming wasn’t as simple as he’d like to believe. Whatever the prince had planned, Hook had no choice but to play along—for now.

👑

Lionel watched as Charming’s fencing movements faltered, his usual grace replaced by distracted, half-hearted parries. The clanging of their swords echoed through the gymnasium, but the prince’s mind was clearly somewhere else.

“Sir—I mean, Christopher, what’s the worry face for?” Lionel asked, lowering his sword slightly, his tone a mix of concern with playful scolding. “Your mother would say frowning is terrible for the face.”

Charming winced and laughed, “Ouch. Thanks for that reminder, Lionel.”

Lionel tilted his head, eyeing the prince with the same scrutiny one might give a misbehaving child. “Having love problems, are we?”

Charming hesitated mid-lunge. “Sorta… kinda... undetermined.” He shrugged, trying to mask the uncertainty in his voice with nonchalance.

“I’ll try to make sense of that, sir,” 

Charming straightened up, tossing his sword onto the nearby rack. “I do have a problem,” 

“And what may that be, Your Highness?”

“I lied to my parents,” Charming confessed, running a hand through his streaked hair. “I told them I had someone to bring them for the ball, but... I have no one.”

Lionel gasped theatrically, hand flying to his chest in mock horror. “Oh dear! The end of the world!” 

Charming grinned, though the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Don’t panic. I’ve got it under control. I think…”

“Is that why there was a handsome pirate rummaging through your wardrobe this morning?” he asked with a pointed look. “Is he part of your grand plan?”

Charming blinked, caught off guard. “He’s not that handsome,” he blurted out, the words leaving his mouth before he could stop them. Lionel’s amused smirk only deepened. Charming’s cheeks flushed. “I mean—he’s alright,” he backpedaled quickly, though Lionel’s knowing look said it all.

Lionel chuckled softly, tapping the flat of his sword against the ground. “What would your parents think of him, then? A pirate at the royal ball?”

“They did say every suitor in the kingdom that doesn’t exclude male or pirates. But they’d be terrified,” 

“And here I thought you were planning to bring a princess,” Lionel mused, shaking his head with fond exasperation.

“Well, ‘pirate’ does start with a P,” Charming quipped, unable to suppress his grin. “Might be close enough. Don’t ask for permission ask for forgiveness.”

“The ball’s happening no matter what, Christopher. Your parents are set on it,” Lionel reminded him, though there was no judgment in his voice. He was used to the prince’s antics by now.

Charming nodded, tossing his fencing jacket aside. “Yeah, well, might as well make it a little more exciting.” 

“If I’m going down, I’m going down singing.” The prince sang.

Lionel chuckled, stepping forward to ruffle the prince’s hair. “You’re always causing trouble. But… you're going to be fine, you always are.”

Charming laughed, a bit of the tension easing from his shoulders. “Thanks, Lionel.”

"Just... try not to start a royal scandal this time," 

"Can't make any promises," Charming shot back with a grin.

👑

The night had settled over Merlin Academy, and the castleteria was buzzing. On the lower level, students from various backgrounds sat together, some attempting to eat in peace while others whispered and laughed in tight-knit groups.

The second level, however, was a different story entirely—a separate, glass-enclosed space designed for royal students, a consequence of the infamous "Ariel incident" from freshman year. Uliana, the sea witch, had stirred up a food fight with the sophomore Little Mermaid herself,  (A girl her older sister bullied aswell)

which ended with food flying and a lot of egos bruised. Now, extra security stood guard, and Charming hated it.

It drained his social battery to be so isolated. He used to enjoy mingling, making polite conversation with his peers, but now he found himself perched in this sterile room, looking down at the rest of the academy through the glass window like he was in some kind of fishbowl. 

It didn’t help that Lionel, who usually provided some form of company, was off handling royal duties whenever it was mealtime. So Charming sat alone, poking at his food, waiting.

Well, not exactly alone. He was expecting someone. Or rather, a pirate . The word "victim" had crossed his mind, but that sounded too cruel, and blackmailee was just unpleasant. So, pirate it was.

Charming’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a scuffle outside the door. Voices—loud, irritated voices—drifted in, and he didn’t need to guess who it was.

“Let go of me! Easy on the coat!” came the familiar accent, sharp and indignant.

The guards were clearly manhandling Hook. Charming sighed, standing up from his seat and making his way to the door. He opened it just in time to see one of the guards tugging on Hook’s crimson coat, and Hook, true to form, looking royally pissed off.

“Stop it!” Charming barked, a little more forcefully than usual. “Let him go. He's with me.”

The two guards immediately released Hook, straightening up as they realized their mistake. One of them, the taller one with a stern face, glanced at Charming apologetically. “Apologies, Your Highness. We didn’t know he was—”

“Yeah, clearly,” Hook cut in, brushing off his coat like he’d just been dragged through the mud. “A real fine welcome, I must say.”

The other guard, younger and more nervous, muttered, “We thought he might’ve been here to, uh… cause trouble, Your Highness.”

Charming sighed, rubbing his temples. “He’s not here to cause trouble. I invited him.” He shot a look at Hook. “Sorry about the mix-up.”

Hook crossed his arms, glaring at the guards. “Way to go, Prince. You invite me, then forget to tell your people I’m coming. Real nice lad, aren’t you?”

Charming gave him a sheepish look, stepping forward and placing a hand on Hook’s shoulder—more of a placating gesture than anything. “I said I was sorry.”

Hook immediately shrugged off his hand, the familiar click of his hook against Charming's wrist. “Easy on the coat. You and your lot have already helped it deteriorate faster than it should.”

“Shall we?” he said, gesturing toward the table.

Hook huffed in response but said nothing, striding past the prince and into the dining area. His eyes scanned the lavish room, taking in the gleaming chandeliers, the velvet-lined chairs, and the royal setup. For a moment, Charming saw a flicker of appreciation cross his face—just for a second—before Hook’s usual facade of nonchalance slipped back into place.

“Nice place you’ve got here,” Hook said, though the casual tone didn’t quite match the look in his eyes. “Bit excessive for a meal, don’t you think?”

Charming smirked, crossing his arms as he followed Hook inside. He could see through the pirate’s act. “If it hadn’t been for that food fight with Ariel and your friend during freshman year, none of this would’ve happened.”

“Yeah, well, she was pretty awesome for that.”

Charming rolled his eyes, though a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Right. Let’s just sit and eat before you start a revolution in here too.”

They settled into their seats, a tense silence hanging between them. Charming could feel the weight of Hook’s gaze, sharp and calculating. This wasn’t some casual dinner. Both of them knew it, even if neither wanted to admit it.

The dinner had been silent for too long. Hook, never one to let tension sit without poking at it, decided to break it “So, what are your intentions, Your Highness? You’re a popular bloke around here. Getting lonely?”

Charming’s fork paused mid-air before he set it down, carefully. “I have friends.” His mind flickered to Aladdin and Jasmine, who often joined him for meals, bringing stories of their magic carpets adventures.

Then there were Ella and Bridget, after the two got together they always found time to drop by with baked treats—often enchanted with strange, unpredictable side effects, like turning his hair fully blue or making him float for a few minutes. 

Zelly, ever the life of the party, would bring her chameleon Pascal, and they’d all end up doing karaoke. After all, the royal dining area inexplicably had a karaoke machine tucked in the corner.

“So it’s not loneliness or complete boredom, why have me here?” Hook pressed.

Charming hesitated, trying to maintain a mysterious air. He knew Hook was too clever to show his cards too early. “I have something to ask,” was all he said, keeping his tone casual.

Hook leaned back, a smirk playing on his lips as he lounged in the velvet chair, clearly amused by the prince’s attempt at suspense. “What’s this all about, then? A royal invitation for little old me? You're not planning on throwing me in the dungeons after dessert, are you?”

Charming chuckled, though there was a hint of nervousness behind it. “No dungeons. Just… an arrangement.” He felt Hook’s guard go up instantly, the pirate’s smirk hardening into something more defensive.

“Arrangement?” Hook’s brow arched in mock curiosity, though there was no mistaking the sharpness in his tone. “What sort of arrangement would a prince want from moi ?”

“I need you to be my date,” Charming said, the words slipping out before he could fully gather his nerve. He paused, seeing Hook’s expression shift, and hurried to clarify, “Not in the traditional sense.”

Hook’s face didn’t change much. He leaned in slightly, his gaze sharp, like he was toying with a fish on a hook. “You went to so much trouble to impress me,” Hook said with snobbish amusement, “I’m flattered, but you’re not my type.”

Charming felt his face flush but pushed on. “My parents are throwing me this stupid ball, and I hate it. It’s all about me, and I just—” He suddenly found himself unraveling, words tumbling out in a rush. “I blurted out that I had a date, thinking it would stop them from pressuring me, but now it’s just worse, and I don’t know how to—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold your horses, Prince,” Hook interrupted with a bemused smirk, holding up his hand. “That’s a lot of whining for me.”

Charming blinked, startled by Hook’s bluntness. Somehow, those few words snapped him out of his spiraling rant. He let out an embarrassed laugh, the tension easing from his shoulders. For a second, he found himself thinking Hook looked oddly…kinda hot. 

The pirate, for all his snark, had an air of control about him that made Charming’s stomach twist in a way he didn’t quite understand.

But Hook was getting up, clearly looking like he was about to leave. He couldn’t let him just walk out, not after coming this far. Desperation flickered in his chest, and he scrambled for a last-ditch effort.

“Wait!” Charming stood quickly, his hand brushing against Hook’s arm as he reached out. “I haven’t told you the benefits yet.”

Hook paused, turning halfway with a knowing gleam in his eyes. “Alright. I’m listening.”

Charming exhaled, thinking quickly. “You’ll get lots of opportunities being seen with me. The ball is in two days. You won’t have to pretend for long. You’ll get to live lavishly, and you don’t have to worry about me telling anyone about your… thieving incident.”

Hook’s eyes flickered, but instead of biting, he turned fully away, stepping toward the door. Charming felt his heart sink. He'd blown it. This was going to be harder than he thought—time for Plan B, whatever that was.

Then, Hook stopped, glancing over his shoulder with a smirk that made Charming’s pulse quicken. “I’ll do it.”

“What?” 

“I said I’ll do it,” Hook repeated, turning fully now, his expression unreadable. “I’ll be your boyfriend. For rent, of course.”

Charming bristled slightly. “That doesn’t sound very nice.”

“Well, that’s the reality, babe,” Hook teased, the last word slipping off his tongue like a taunt. The prince stiffened at the word. He didn’t like the way it sounded coming from Hook’s mouth. Or maybe he liked it too much, and that was the problem.

“Fine, we’ll talk tomorrow, lay down the ground rules. We can discuss everything over breakfast.”

“Blah, blah, so boring. You don’t need so many pleasantries to fake-date me, you know. We’re not writing a treaty.”

Charming stepped closer, his face inching into Hook’s space. “I’ll pick you up in the morning. We’ll discuss the plan then.”

Hook gave him a mocking grin, eyes flicking down between them before meeting Charming’s gaze again. “You just love a good scheme and a meal, don’t you? That’s pathetic—and kinda cute, actually.”

Something inside Charming snapped at that last line. “Who are you calling pathetic?” he growled, stepping even closer until they were face to face.

Hook’s eyes danced with amusement, but there was something else beneath the surface, something unreadable. For a brief moment, they stood there in awkward silence, close enough to feel each other’s breaths, their hands grazing.

The bell rang suddenly, cutting through the moment and pulling them back to reality. Charming took a step back, clearing his throat. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” He asked, his princely demeanor slipping back into place, though his voice was quieter than before.

Hook smirked, already slipping toward the door. “You know where to find me, Your Highness .”

Charming was still screwed how was he going to pull this sham? But he did make some progress he just hoped the pirate didn’t cause too much trouble.

👑

Notes:

Hope you enjoy the fic & Remember to give feedback!!! It is always appreciated. The fate of this fic is in y'alls hands its up to all of you whether this continues. (And if you reading this on tumblr. Thank you so much for giving this a read.)   Request go here on my tumblr.

[coolcattime]

Third Time's the Charm: Part 2/3 [Mianite Post Timeline Piece]

Characters: Captain Capsize, Lady Ianite, Lord Dianite

Relationship: Captain Capsize/Lady Ianite (onesided)

Additional Tags: Major Character Death, Major Character Undeath, Suffering, Imprisonment, Lethal Wound, Cruelty, Mocking, Self Confidence Issues, Possibly Unrequited Love, Hyperthermia, Slow Death, Love Confessions, Comes Back Wrong, Helplessness, Grief/Mourning, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Denail

Part One 🥀 Part Two 🥀 Part Three

A03 Link

As the heat of the Nether has turned to a chill, Capsize knows she once again not long for this world. She has a final conversation with her goddess that begins a determination that will lead to tragedy.

Treasure Her Body

Capsize was freezing. That was the strongest, most overwhelming thought in her mind. She was so cold even though she knew that she wasn’t.

She no longer knew how long she had been in the Nether. Last time she had spoken to Ianite, she had told her it had been days, but the way she was stuck in this tiny room away from the sky or anything else natural, she could easily be convinced that it had only been a few hours. Normally heat could kill a person in a few hours, couldn’t it? Of course, the Nether worked differently. Or maybe it didn’t, and she was just being forced to remain alive by Ianite or Lord Dianite. For kindness or cruelty or just random chance, she was still alive.

Her head was killing her, making her thoughts increasingly incoherent and painful to sort through. She had known from the beginning that she would die in this room, but that hadn’t made the actual process pleasant. By this point she couldn’t move from the fetal position she had pulled herself into to try and warm herself. Her mouth was stuck with an unpleasant, sour taste that left her feeling like a child sick in bed. Except no one was coming to comfort her, she was stuck alone on the rough brick floor awaiting the moment that the pain would end.

However, all she could currently do was pull her legs tighter to her chest as she shivered. She wished that her coat was in reach if only the tiniest bit more warmth.

“Capsize,” Ianite’s voice came clearly into her head, far easier for her to concentrate on than her own thoughts. She closed her eyes, able to pretend that her goddess was physically with her. If she focused hard enough, she could imagine her kneeling behind her, running a hand through her hair. Only imaginary, only in her mind, as she knew that Ianite would not actually do so even if she was her, but the make believe was the most comfort she muster for herself. “Capsize, are you still awake?”

“Yeah… Just about,” Her voice was weak, fading away even as she tried to push through and sound strong. It didn’t matter, she knew that she did not need to speak out loud for Ianite to understand her, but still she wanted to pretend. It was silly. No one could see her at this moment and believe she had any strength left to give, but even as every part of her form gave her away, she wanted to appear strong for her goddess. She couldn’t let her down, didn’t want to spend her last moments hearing her upset. But it was hard for her to think at all, let alone think of any excuse to keep Ianite from worrying about her. She’d long since run out of tears, her eyes even closed felt uncomfortably dry, but she could swear that she felt tears on her cheeks. She knew she must look pathetic, why was she even trying to pretend? “I’m so cold, Ia.”

“No, you’re… Just hold on a little longer. I promise you, by the end of the day you’ll be safe,” Ianite did not sound confident. Rather it sounded as if she was just desperately clinging to a fading hope. Capsize wondered if she had actually managed to contact Lord Mianite or if her strength was simply not up to such a task. In truth, it didn’t matter. She knew her own strength was running out. She did not have time left in her for a rescue. With the condition she was in, even if she was found she’d simply weigh the other’s down in their ability to complete their quest. She knew that. As painful as it was, she had accepted it. So why hadn’t Ianite?

“I won’t last that long. I’m done, you know that as well as I do,” She hated having to actually say those words. She hated even more the sob that erupted from her goddess, one that threatened to drown her in the emotions she was so desperate to suppress. It was the sort of cry she had only heard from those mourning the dead. It was fitting, she supposed, but that didn’t make it any less painful to hear such sorrow from Ianite.

It was not the sort of grief that should come from a goddess, but she supposed their friendship had progressed far past the kind of bond a goddess and mortal were meant to have. A friendship far too human to be good for one who would have to outlive her and, despite knowing that fact, she had always still longed for more even when that fact hurt her. She had so many things she wanted to say, grievances and confessions she did not want to go to the grave with her, but instead she was laying there unable to do anything but listen to the sobbing.

“No! No, I can’t--! I will not let him keep you!” Ianite’s words were laced with grief and disgust and denial. She knew, had always known, that Capsize was mortal. That she had voluntarily embarked on a dangerous mission that had already led most of her crew to early graves. There had always been a chance that it would end her as well. But never had Ianite been able to stand or even picture the possibility of losing Capsize. So, she had tried to keep her away, to keep her out of the notice of her brother. Still, she had always been sure that even in the worst, most unimaginable situation, her soul would remain. That she would still have some form of her friend to be with her for the rest of time. Dianite had taken anyway even that small comfort. He had made sure that he would both lose her to death and be stuck in the knowledge she would suffer beyond it. It was more painful than anything the goddess had felt before, the sort of emotion she was not meant to feel.

Capsize herself felt drained. She wanted to be able to cry, but she had spent so much emotion already. There was no moment where she could’ve recovered to allow herself to be able to feel anything at all. Now she just felt tired. Left with nothing but exhaustion as she listened to the fresh grief of her friend. “I was meant to protect you! I tried so hard to… Please, Capsize, please. A couple of hours, that’s all it’ll take.”

“I’m sorry, I… I’ve failed you again,” She said, trying to apologise for so many different things. She felt so much weight dragging her down. She knew that she had completely failed in her mission to save Ianite. The most important mission it was possible for her to take on and she was going to have died twice while having done nothing to help. At least if she’d sacrificed herself right at the end her death would be worth something.

Maybe everything would’ve been better if she had stayed on Ianerea. Maybe then she would’ve saved something that way. Or maybe she would’ve fallen alongside her home, but at least she would’ve died without being such a burden on the very goddess she was meant to save.

“No! Don’t you dare apologise!” Ianite said, sternly and a touch too loud. Capsize shrank further inwards. She knew that the goddess did not want her to react in such a way, that she cared about her and just wanted her to stay alive, but how could she feel anything but a failure? She had pushed to be given the directions to come to this place and ended up giving so much to this mission that was not hers in the first place. She had led her crew into danger she had not told them about, and nearly all of them died for it. She had taken them anyway from Ianerea when they could have served as at least somewhat of a defence when the attack had come. And what good had she done for all she had sacrificed to be here?

Nothing. She had achieved nothing that Sparklez and the other champions couldn’t have done without her. “You haven’t failed me, you never could.”

Ianite’s voice croaked as she did not hide the fact that she sobbed. And Capsize knew she should take this. As hard as it was listening to this grief, at the least she would die with her and Ianite’s friendship as it had been. She had not failed in her eyes. She was her messenger and friend that she wanted to save from this terrible fate.

But a scratching creeping guilt was still there. She only had now to admit it, though she was not sure she even wanted to. However, if this was truly her last time talking with Ianite, she knew she could not hold back her words.

“I thought you had replaced me,” The words spilt out, weak and cracking. Immediately she heard a silence fall, though she knew that Ianite was still there, still listening. Her own shame was overwhelming. She should’ve kept it a secret. All she was doing was causing more pain, but how could she keep hiding it? She had tried to bite down her insecurities for the sake of the mission, for the sake of their friendship, but this was the end. She knew it was the end. If she could achieve none of the things she was meant to, at least she could be honest. “When you said He had given you the strength to escape, I was so sure that you had. I tried to push it down, to ignore it, but I met him and… is Sparklez my replacement?”

“No! No, of course not! How could you—!” Ianite snapped before quickly quieting herself. She almost shook as she realised her tone. She was about to lose her friend and she was yelling. Worse, she realised too late just how scared she had sounded asking that question.

Capsize hated herself for doing this. They had fought so much since her arrival in the champions’ realm. She had hated every mild disagreement. It had added to every fear she had about her current place in the world. So why was she so determined to drag them both back to it? What was she doing but tainting Ianite’s last memories of her? She knew it would’ve been easier to just allow herself to die without confronting the terrible thoughts, but she couldn’t. She needed answers or failing that just needed Ianite to know what she had been holding back. “No one could ever replace what you are to me. Jordan is my champion, but you are so much more than that. Surely you know… Did I say something that made you believe you were lesser than him?”

“What else was I meant to believe?” She didn’t have the energy to fully express the bitterness that had been building over these past months. “No matter what he did, you defended him. You told me to give him chance after chance and acted like I was ridiculous for trusting the other champions above him. So fine, maybe you didn’t replace me, but truly how I was not meant to believe that you saw him as better than me?”

“I…” Ianite’s voice died in her throat. The single word she did manage to get out may as well have been a raw sob. A single noise that was weighed down with a terrible realisation of what her actions had done, but with the knowledge that she would never be able to fix them. She did not have the time to repair the fractures she had caused between them.

This thought, this terrible knowledge that she had broken something that she did not have time to repair, was shared by Capsize. A painful thought that she could not help but fixate on as all the others seemed so far away. Their last conversation and she had chosen to be cruel. She wished she had died quietly.

“I’m sorry,” She said, a horrible dry lump in her throat. Maybe that would fix things. She didn’t know, everything was so hard to focus on. It was surprisingly hard to even keep herself coherent as trying to think felt like wading through mud. She was just so cold… so tired. Ianite was here… “Can you hold me?”

“I’m not there with you Capsize,” Ianite said, her voice hollow. Even with the terrible things she had learnt, her own focus was solely on how weak her friend’s voice was. Maybe if she could keep her talking, she could keep her alive. She just had to keep her focused on reality. Unfortunately, Capsize’s mind was already drifting away.

“Please. I want you to hold me at least once,” She whispered, almost crying though she had no tears to spill. She was vaguely aware of the truth, that her goddess was not and could not be with her, but with her thoughts as thick and foggy as they were, all she could think was how unfair it was. And then she thought about how terrible that thought was. Those two thoughts swirling around in the heaviness of her mind. The unfairness of never getting what she had truly wanted and the terribleness of wanting such a thing at all. The internal argument eventually devolved into the same self-loathing it always did. She was selfish for even wanting such a thing. She would never be good for a goddess.

“Don’t think about yourself like that. You’ve always been good enough for me. You’re my messenger, my friend, and—”

“That’s why it’s so terrible…” She only whispered, yet her words were enough to silence Ianite entirely. She had told herself so many times that she should just appreciate what she had, but the longing had never gone away. It had instead just grown, become so obvious that people on Ianerea had begun joking about it. She had tried to take it as the joke they had meant it as, but her actual relationship with Ianite had left her feeling ashamed. She had held it so close, been so desperate for it to not be found out by her goddess until the moment was right. But here she was, the moment was never going to be right. “I know I’m your friend, and that’s an honour that I would never dream of denying or wishing away. But I… I’m a little bit in love with you.”

“What?” That singular word escaped from Ianite. Confused and terrified in equal measure as she had no idea how she ever could’ve missed such a thing, but worse knew that had it been hidden from her so well there was only one reason it would be being confessed to her now. She wanted once again to lose herself in tears. She wanted to tell Capsize to save her strength and that she could tell her all this in person. Yet she could do neither. This was the clearest sign the goddess could’ve possibly received of the condition her friend was in. To silence her now would do nothing but prevent her from ever making the confession. No matter the pain it brought, she could not allow herself to silence her last words.

“I know it’s stupid. I had it all planned out, I knew when I wanted to tell you. I’d come to rescue you and then I’d confess everything, as if I was some shining knight and you were a princess,” She had always liked stories like that when she was a kid. They had made life seem so simple. Maybe that’s why she had foolishly latched onto the idea. In the stories, the sacrifices always ended up worth it in the end, when everything ended up happy. But the vague concept of losing a home or people loyal to you was, needless to say, far different from the reality of experiencing it. All she’d actually done was prove how far she was from being a hero. “Then I met Sparklez and how could I see him as anything but your real knight?”

What was she, a pirate, before a man in glimmering armour? A man with the title that all knew was the one that belonged to the protectors of the gods. She tried, she really did, to push down her jealousy. It was not helpful towards their goal, and she knew as much, and it was not as if she wanted his title or felt as if he in any way threatened her own, but still… Still, she had not managed to keep away those unpleasant feelings. The way that Sparklez had treated her, the way that Ianite had treated her complaints about him, both had left a festering unpleasantness that broke through far more than she would like. Yet, despite how she would love to just blame Sparklez, there was more to this than her meeting him.

“I know that you didn’t want me to come here and help you. I heard how hesitant you were to give me the directions…” She couldn’t stop thinking of that night. The darkness of her bedroom before everything had been sacrificed. “Given everything, it seems like you were right… I mean, look at the mess I’ve ended up in.”

She tried to laugh, to add some brevity. All she did was hurt her throat.

“I really wish you were here… That you’d hold me like you do in my dreams… I know that you can’t be though…”

There was quiet crying somewhere far away.

“Please just remember me… I’ll miss you, Ianite.”

Her voice faded away, quickly followed by her consciousness. Her mind clung a little longer, her thoughts slipping into a dream of being held briefly before they too were gone. Captain Capsize died alone, chained to the floor of a cell awaiting the comfort of a goddess unable to reach her.

She did not hear the grief that came afterwards. The begging and sobbing of a goddess who had lost her friend. In another cell far from the one she had been kept in, Ianite screamed until her throat was raw for her to wake up, to answer her, to just hold on a little longer. She knew in reality that she was gone. She had felt their connection snuff out and she could not reach out to her anymore. But knowing and accepting were two very different things.

A part of Capsize did remain. A newly formed spirit, chained as she had been in life. However, she was not yet aware. Newly born ghosts rarely were. It took time for them to build up any sort of awareness. As it stood, her ghost was stuck in the hopelessness she had been stuck in for her last days. That was how she would remain for a long time to come even as her body was taken away.

Her body was taken as a mocking trophy to the goddess’ prison cell. Chained across from Ianite, out of her reach even without the shackles that bound her, her lifeless form was posed kneeling with her head lent on the hilt of a sword thrust into the ground before her. A twisted image of her insecurities that was left before the goddess as if she was a mere decoration. And any feelings tied to memories Ianite had left of warmth towards the brother that had become her captor were truly dead.

Lady Ianite, staring at the corpse of her friend knowing that her soul remained the possession of Dianite, told the champions and the skipper that she was still alive. It wasn’t entirely a lie. She could still hear her crying. But it was not a cruelty or false hope. It would be true, even if it currently wasn’t. She would build her strength. She would bring her back. Her friend won’t have died alone for the sake of saving her.

It took nearly a month for them to arrive in Aethoria. Or perhaps it was longer, she really couldn’t tell. Such a length of time should be but a blink of an eye for a goddess, but instead it felt like an eternity. The whole time stuck staring at her body while convincing herself she did not need to grieve because she would bring her back. She would fix her. She would apologise for the hurt she had caused. They would discuss the confession she had made.

Everything would be okay.

The time came. She was freed. Dianite was killed and his powers absorbed by his own champion. The champions and the skipper stood before her. She offered them the wish, already knowing what would be asked of her. She tried to just smile through and ignore as Jericho questioned why Capsize had not already been freed alongside her.

Ianite was sure that she would be able to retrieve her. Yes, she was weakened, but Syndicate would not have the control over his newly gained power. Even in her current state, she was sure she would have no trouble breaking the controlling bond that the sacrifice had forcefully placed on her. It was this unfortunate assumption that led to the tragedy that night that would haunt the goddess for years to come.

Perhaps had she explained, she could have worked with the newly empowered god to reunite body and soul. Perhaps had she told the group the truth of the situation, he wouldn’t have unconsciously clung to the soul of his friend causing the goddess to have to fight him for it. There was an infinite amount of perhaps and maybe and what if that Ianite would question for so long after that night. Perhaps if she had told them. Maybe if they had been faster. What if she saved just a little more strength. But not a single one could ever change the reality of what did happen.

The soul that she had been so desperate to revive was torn apart.

Eight pieces were scattered across the world, most to be lost for years to come. The one that had been retrieved by the goddess was reunited with her body, but by itself it could not return any true life.

Capsize did not understand what was going on. She could barely remember what had led to this moment as her memories were disjointed and unfocused. All she knew was that Ianite had called her and now she was completely unable to control her own body or perceive her surroundings. She felt like she was being puppeteered, a fact that terrified her as knew she was moving towards presences but had no idea who or what they were. There was something heavy in her hands, voices all around her. She felt attacks made against her, her body lashing out, but was not actually in control any of it.

Desperately, she tried to take control, to even just stop, but it had no effect. So, she tried to speak, to yell, to scream. All of it just came out as groans. Something was truly wrong with her. She pushed all her strength into one action.

“Help me…”

Surely someone could help her. There were people around her. One of them must be able to do something. Ianite was here, she had heard her calling. Why wasn’t she helping?

Someone approached her. Despite desperately wanting whatever help they could give, her arms thrashed out towards them in what she was sure was an attack. It didn’t connect. A tight grip forced her arm still. She wished had the strength to repeat her words.

She didn’t know what was going on. She needed help. Were they going to help?

A terrible pain stabbed swiftly through her gut.

She felt forwards. There was a clattering as arms pulled her tight and an almighty wail of grief filled the air.

And once again, Capsize was gone.

[jamgoesart]

Black Queen [Once Upon A Time]

"I am living proof that the mind... that the mind is a terrible thing."

Many believe there were only two queens in Wonderland, White and Red, but there was another. The Black Queen.

♤

Wonderland.

A chessboard.

One white side and one black.

We know the Red Queen, who is known to shout "Off with her head" and who does not rule the country, but terrorizes it. A very pedantic, bossy and lecturing person, who for many is the equivalent to a teacher.

The White Queen, a noble and sensitive woman, but at the same time stupid and helpless, almost like a newborn.

Many believe that there are only the two of them, but there is another queen. The Black Queen.

Black against white.

Not red against white.

♤

After a quick shower, which did her more than good, Valerie wiped her hand over the fogged mirror and immediately took a few steps back, letting out a sharp scream. It wasn't her own reflection looking back at her, but a row of pointed teeth. The teeth slowly dissolved and single letters appeared in their place. First here, then there, without any connection. Little by little, words formed and finally a sentence. It is about time. No sooner had she read the sentence than it disappeared again and the same game began all over again. The fall is imminent. Again the letters disappeared, rearranged themselves and new ones were added. Reclaim what is rightfully yours. Nothing more came after that.

It was all a sign that Val was overtired. Mere fantasy, that was all it had been.

As if these hallucinations weren't disturbing enough, paranoia was added to the mix. Ever since Valerie had left the hospital and was on her way home, she had felt like she was being watched. But there was nothing to see. Nothing at all. Except a crow. Not one of the birds that had been so close to her since she left the hospital. Fortunately, this day would soon be over.

[treatian]

The Chronicles of the Dark One: Domestic Battles

Chapter 70: His Plan

There was a quiet moment when everyone in the diner let Belle's simple but effective plan sink in. The only way to keep people in town safe would be to lock them all away in separate places. But that was impossible. The rage people would feel when the curse hit meant that even if everyone stayed locked in their own rooms, they'd claw their way out eventually. And they could chain themselves down or anchor themselves to trees but for how long? How long until the rage they felt inside became self-destructive and they killed themselves trying to get free? How long until people locked in rooms they truly couldn't be free of starved to death? How long until those who didn't attempt to restrict themselves searched out others and let them go?

It was going to be a bloodbath, absolute chaos. And the one good thing about that was that it felt like this plan of his, the story he intended to tell Belle and Henry one day soon about their escape, it might be more true than false.

"I have to get Neal from Granny," Mary Margaret commented, finally breaking the silence and making her way to the inn.

Neal. He hadn't even thought about the boy that bore his son's name, that Belle was no doubt becoming fond of because she became fond of everyone she cared for.

"Look for him on the way out if you want," Nimue sighed in frustration. "Just get to work!"

"I'll make phone calls," David planned. "I'll reach as many as I can."

It would never be enough.

"I need to go get back to Henry. Lock him away somewhere safe, somewhere even I can't reach him!" Regina explained, demanding his attention unexpectedly.

"I can take care of that for you," he offered.

Damn near every face in the room turned back to look at him, and that was when he realized that though his mind had been working and he'd been speaking to Nimue, this was the first time he'd said anything to the collective.

"Really?!" Regina balked at him. "Have you really been here this entire time?!"

"Unfortunately," the Blue Bug breathed with disdain.

He ignored her and focused on the situation at hand. He had an opportunity he hadn't expected, and he planned not to waste it.

"I can hide Henry if you like," he offered again. "My magic is stronger than yours."

"Over my dead body!" she exclaimed. He'd hoped that reminding her that he was far more capable of keeping Henry safe from her than she was would be helpful. But clearly, it wasn't. "I will take care of my son just like I'm sure you'll take care of your wife! Unless, of course, you are willing to make a trade?"

He sneered at the suggestion that he would ever hand Belle over to Regina for any reason, let alone something like this. He knew how this curse worked, probably every bit as well as Regina did. She knew what she was likely to become and, therefore, who she was likely to target. It would start with the most obvious of enemies, and then as more and more died, people would work their way down to people they loved. Mary Margaret would be Regina's first stop, and Henry would be her last, which meant Belle would be somewhere in the middle, and that was too great a risk.

He'd offer to hide Regina himself, his magic was likely the only magic in town that could effectively seal her away and keep the people safe, but-

"We want chaos, Rumpelstiltskin!" Nimue reminded him. "If they do break the curse before we leave, then we'll need something to cover our tracks with the magical bugs. The more villains you have roaming the streets, the better. Besides, if she does hide the boy, you'll need to find him, won't you."

"Didn't think so," Regina commented, properly interpreting his silence. She left the diner with an unnecessary slam of the door and the others followed soon after. They followed because they knew what he already did, it was time to make preparations.

Before, he'd wanted to get Belle out of the diner simply so Hook could go in and capture the fairies. He still wanted that, but now he needed to get Belle to a designated safe place. The curse was going to hit, and she needed to be away and off the streets, safe from Regina and her father and any other lowlife in the city who might want to harm her.

But he felt his heart leap into his chest when one of the fairies grabbed a coat and mentioned they should leave, get back to the convent before the storm hit. That would be an unexpected wrench in his plans.

But Superior yelled "Stop!" before they could leave the building. "The potion, destroy what we have," she ordered. "We can't risk anyone else using what we have here after the curse hits."

"No! Wait!" Belle shrieked.

"I'm sorry, Belle, but things will be bad enough. We can't risk anyone getting their hands on it and making things worse."

"No, but…but the Light Magic to make the potion; I understand it takes skill, but there is a chance, isn't there? A chance that Emma could make it work?"

"I'm afraid it's never that simple," Superior argued, shaking her head.

"But she could do it?!" Belle fought back, unrelenting, in a way that made him smile. She was born to be a Gold. "The hair and her Light Magic, she could make the vaccine or at least enough for those of us who know how to assemble it if she found Anna."

"In theory, yes, but-"

"Then we leave it here! Just like this. Make sure it's completely prepared, and I'll leave Emma a note with instructions on it."

As if summoned by her own fury a roll of thunder shook the room. It was close. Too close. Some of the fairies gasped, others put their hands to their mouths, very aware of the warning the storm was delivering. They were nearly out of time.

"Belle," he urged, moving closer. "We really need to get you-"

"Safe, I know, but Rumple…" she sidestepped the Blue Fairy so that she could take his hand and squeeze it as if that alone was supposed to bring him reassurance. "I have to see this through. We have time enough for that. A chance is better than nothing."

She didn't give him an opportunity to argue. Instead, she found a piece of paper and a pen and immediately began jotting down what he could only assume were instructions that Emma would need. He let her. But only because there was no use in playing the bad guy. He wanted Belle to remember that he was supportive of her in this mission later, and there was no better way to prove that than to let her finish, especially as so many other fairies immediately swarmed the Blue Fairy, urging her to do something about Belle to stop her so they could go. One of them went so far as to suggest that Belle needed to go with them to the convent so she could be protected.

"Once she starts something, there's no stopping her until it's finished!" he yelled at them on her behalf and, if he was honest, out of sheer anger. How dare any of them assume she wasn't going with her husband! "The moment she's done I'm taking her with me."

His comments seemed to shut them up fairly quickly. And he began making plans. He could no longer be certain that the fairies would remain here when he got Belle out of the diner, but the good news was that it seemed like they intended to shelter in the convent, probably in their separate rooms. It was going to mean more work for Hook, obviously. But the change was something he could work with.

"They found her!"

Belle's voice suddenly broke through the din of noise humming in the diner. Silence fell.

"They found her!" she exclaimed again, hurrying over to Mother Superior and showing her something on her phone. "They found her, they found Anna! She's bringing her back right now! With the necklace!"

His jaw nearly dropped. "That's almost too good to be true," he stated. Anna was in Arendelle, frozen; she should be dead by now. All this time, and just in the nick of time, they'd found her?! Hadn't Emma just walked out the door five minutes ago?!

"No…" the Blue Bug corrected as a smile stretched over her mouth. "that's the power of Light Magic. And faith! Ladies…it appears our hope has been restored. Prepare everything!" she shouted at the others before looking back at him. "Well…appears I was right all along, Dark One. You've learned nothing in your time here!"

He sneered at the bitch. Oh, he may have several regrets in the future that would all stem from what he was about to do in the next few hours. But there was one he was absolutely sure he'd never regret in all his life.

The world would be a better place without the scum known as fairies.

"I've learned not to trust that plans go as they should," he commented before letting his gaze drift to Belle.

Now. It had to be now. If he had any hope of making sure this curse happened, then he needed to get Belle out of here now! Hook was only going to have a small window between their departure and the arrival of the others, but if it didn't happen, then this entire plan was for not. And after spending the last few hours in the presence of the fairies, he was suddenly very determined to make sure that his plan went off without a hitch.

"Belle, we really need to get you someplace safe. Belle!"

She had nodded and was about to take a step in his direction with that bitch of a fairy pulled her away again. He damn near growled in frustration. Playing the good guy and being on his best behavior while doing it was the most irritating thing in the world. Why anyone wanted to be a hero was beyond him!

The Bug pulled Belle into the back room, hardly secure or private, and magically he overheard Belle hiss "can we make this work?" with renewed excitement. "I know we're nearly out of time, but can you make the counter spell, inoculate yourselves, then send Emma and Elsa to help the others after the spell hits?"

"We can," the fairy confirmed. "There's just enough time, but…I don't like him here. I don't want the Dark One to know how to do magic like this. These secrets have been kept sacred for years, and I won't be the one that allows them to fall into hands like his."

Fucking fairies…

Did she really think he didn't know how to create a simple fucking counter curse already?! Hell, this was Belle's idea. It was probably in one of his books that she'd found it!

"I can get him to leave," Belle promised, nearly making him hit the ceiling with joy. Whatever it took to get her out of here, he didn't care what it was. "Can you do the rest without me?"

"If she truly has found this Anna then we already have. All that needs done is to add her hair to the spell since we don't need to extract the previous curse from the necklace. But if you're leaving, you should be somewhere safe until Emma can get the counter curse to you."

"Rumple will keep me safe."

Her confidence…it make him smile.

"Can you be sure about that?" the fairy hissed. "This isn't a time for compliance or statements or even blind faith. You have to be sure."

"I'm sure," she declared without hesitation. A moment later, Belle came striding out of the back room in his direction. This time, no one stopped her. "Rumple! So, Anna's on her way!" she explained breathlessly. She gathered her things up from him and he made it as far as the door with her before she turned back around and gave the room another look. A final look, he hoped.

"Do you really think they can do it?" she asked with concern in her voice. He meant what he said, once his wife started something she always saw it through to the end. Not being able to was going to kill her. But staying would be no better for her either. Here or in Storybrooke. There was a wider world beyond the town line with plenty of new opportunities unfulfilled. She'd find rest in completing those. One day…

"Well, perhaps, but uh…if there's one thing I've learned, it's never trust a fairy," he spat out before turning his attention to her. "Come. Let's get you someplace safe. Just in case…"

[cosette141]

When You Wish Upon A Star | OUAT fanfic

Fandom: Once Upon A Time

Author: cosette141

Words: 8k

Summary: When David learns that Killian killed his father, David doesn’t forgive him. Killian is desperate to get his best friend back, but when David and Killian suddenly wake up in each other’s body, they might not even get themselves back. Oneshot (Captain Charming)

AO3

He smiled.

His sword sliced between the man's ribs.

And he smiled.

"Killian?"

Killian jerked from the memory—the horrible memory—the bloody worst thing he's ever done—from seeing the man—David's father—Emma's grandfather—die at his feet—at his hand—

—and he'd smiled—

"Killian!"

Killian jerked again, this time seeing Emma standing in front of him, her hands on his face, making him look at her, where they stood outside the door of her parents' loft.

"It's okay," said Emma softly. "We will get through this."

Killian swallowed hard, his heart hammering in his chest, his black, dead, cold heart, very much doubting that they would make it through this.

He's only gotten back from the mess with Gideon, from his return to Neverland and his very-near death. Emma's parents' Sleeping Curse has been broken for two days now, but they haven't seen them since.

The moment David had seen Killian again…

David and Snow both awake now, embraced their daughter together, pulling Henry in with them as well. Killian had stood unsure behind them. Emma had told him that David knew about his sin—what he'd done to David's father.

When David pulled away from his daughter, his eyes bright, his smile wide for his family, he then looked at Killian for the first time since the night he'd given Killian his blessing to marry his daughter.

David's eyes locked on his, and Killian stopped breathing.

The prince left his family to approach Killian, stopping in front of him.

"Ma—" began Killian, stopping himself from 'mate,' something he hasn't censored since Neverland. "D-David," he began unsteadily. "I… I can't even begin to tell you how sor—"

His words were sharply cut off when David's fist connected with his cheek, sending him crashing to the floor in surprise.

By the time Emma had helped him up, David was already gone.

The bruise on Killian's cheek was gone now, healed by Emma's magic, something Killian had asked her not to do.

He deserved the pain.

And he deserved the scar of it.

Hell, he deserved David's sword through his own ribs.

(Again.)

Despite Emma and Snow's attempts to get David and him in the same room, David hadn't gone anywhere near him ever since.

On this specific occasion, Emma and Snow have secretly planned for him to stop by, not telling David to avoid him leaving. But, in Emma's words, they were planning to "lock them both in the same room until they work this out with magic if they had to".

"You can do this," encouraged Emma softly, her fingers in his, and Killian still couldn't believe that he had her forgiveness.

He had everyone's except David, which was shocking to him in its own right.

But if he could have anyone's right now, it was David.

The man who had slowly become a friend, a brother, and now… nearly a father-in-law. (He tried not to think about the strangeness of that). He'd take strange.

He just wanted David back.

So, Emma knocked on the door, and it opened quickly, revealing Snow. She gave Killian a pitied smile. "Come in," she said softly.

They did, Emma having to tug Killian along.

Just as David got up from the couch, and froze.

His lax expression immediately hardened, a contempt aimed at Killian that hasn't been in his eyes since Neverland.

"What the hell is he doing here?" demanded David, shooting an accusing look at his wife and daughter, whom both winced.

"David," said Snow in a soft chastisement, yet still gentle. "I know you're hurting, and I know… I know what Killian's done is…" Killian flinched. "But… he's changed, and we've seen him change…"

"He saved your life in Neverland," Emma reminded him, something that both men revealed over a dinner months ago. "He saved all of us, he died for us," she said, voice choking up at that, "and he's so sorry—"

Killian felt the muscle in his jaw twitch, needing to speak for himself. Despite how much he appreciated their help. "David," he said, eyes burning. "I am… I can't even… I am so sorry," his voice choked. "I… I was… I wasn't m-myself back then. I was a… monster. A… villain," he said, the word sending a shiver down his spine. "And I… if I could take it back, I would in a bloody second—"

"Well," David cut him off. "You can't."

With that, he shoved past Killian, grabbing the door and slamming it shut.

"Dav—" began Snow, about to go after him, but Killian held up his hand to stop her.

He opened the door, rushing after David.

He found him walking swiftly down the sidewalk, his silhouette only lit by the moon and the stars, and Killian called, "David!"

David kept walking.

"David, please!"

Killian took David's arm to stop him, only for David to turn sharply toward him with a scowl, and Killian winced, stepping back.

"David," stressed Killian, every bit of regret that was killing him coming out, roughing his voice. "I am so bloody sorry," he choked out, a tear burning down his cheek. Because the worst thing he's ever done, he's done to his very best friend.

"Really?" asked David, whirling on him, eyes filled with anger and pain. "Were you sorry when you assisted me in finding the monster," he ground out, making Killian's eyes burn, "who killed my father? Trying to convince me to stop looking because he was standing right next to me?"

"I told you," stressed Killian, face breaking with the utter pain making him want to explode. "I didn't realize that I—" He couldn't even say it. "I didn't realize it until afterward, until August gave me that damn page—" He shut his eyes, letting out a defeated breath. "David, I swear to you, I have never regretted anything more than what I did to your father." Another tear burned down his cheek. "I was… I was a monster," he admitted, the words burning through his lips. "I… I wasn't myself, I… I didn't… I—" He remembered that phase, that… condition he was in. Ruled by pain and darkness and misery, and…. Emptiness. He didn't even feel like a person. "I just… I just wish you could see it from my perspective," he whispered brokenly.

"What do you want from me?" snapped David coldly.

"I… I want you to tell me what I can do to earn your forgiveness," breathed Killian, another tear burning down his cheek.

"You can't."

With that, David turned and walked away, leaving Killian frozen to the ground, feeling like he was hit with something so much more painful than David's fist.

It was hours before Killian went home, finding Emma having waited up for him on the couch.

She opened her mouth to ask something, but at his face, closed it, mirroring his sadness.

She embraced him anyway, promising him that David would come around.

They retired to their bedroom not long after, and Killian shut his eyes.

Just as he began to drift into a restless sleep, he felt something shift in his chest.

But he was asleep before he could question what it was.

-.-.

Killian felt himself wake slowly, reminded of the days as Captain Hook, where every day was just another day without color.

He sighed, wondering how the hell he was supposed to fix this with David.

He lifted his left arm to prop himself up to get out of bed, only to realize that he felt something he hasn't experienced in centuries.

For years after losing his left hand, he would still almost feel his fingers, even if they weren't there.

But…

He hasn't felt his phantom hand in ages.

So why…?

He opened his eyes, looking down, wondering if he went to bed with his hook again.

Except…

His hook wasn't there.

Neither was his brace.

Instead…

There was a hand.

He stared in shock.

He shook himself; he must still be dreaming.

But… this didn't feel like a dream.

He lifted his right hand, staring at two hands.

What…?

He closed both hands.

The fingers listened.

Two hands.

But… that wasn't all.

He suddenly realized something else wrong.

He was in Emma's parents' loft.

No—worse.

In her parents' bed.

Killian jerked out of the bed, whirling around, terrified to see Snow or David.

But the bed was empty except for him.

The whole apartment was, in fact.

He breathed out in relief.

Killian was also wearing… David's bedtime wear?

His heart pounded. "What the bloody—"

But he froze.

That wasn't his voice.

It wasn't even his accent.

It actually sounded like…

He couldn't breathe.

Killian all but ran to the bathroom.

Shutting his eyes, he winced, then opened his eyes in front of the mirror.

He felt his jaw drop.

But not his jaw.

Because staring back at him, his own bloody reflection, was David.

-.-.

David groaned.

His head pounded.

His brow furrowed with the pain, the awful ache behind his eyes that he didn't think he'd drunk enough to cause. He breathed slow, trying to quell the sudden rush of nausea, but it passed after a few breaths.

Perhaps it wasn't alcohol—it also could have been stress, as Snow seemed to go on and on about how much stress he'd been putting himself under, especially while they'd been under the shared Sleeping Curse. That mixed with Emma's—thankfully sidestepped—fate and everything about his father...

Familiar, stark anger rose under his skin, remembering the conversation with Hook from last night.

Hook.

He could hardly even picture the man without feeling a blinding hatred. Someone he nearly treated as a brother, as his closest friend, had killed his father. His good, innocent, finally decent father. He had ruined his father's chance at redemption, ended his life in cold blood and left David and his mother with unbearable pain that never, ever truly left either of them.

And now?

Now, Hook was going to become his son-in-law.

His practical son, who had murdered his father.

Murdered Emma's grandfather.

Her grandfather, whom she could have met if it hadn't been for Hook.

And his father would never see justice from the cold-hearted, soulless pirate his daughter had so unfortunately fallen in love with. And how she, and her mother, could still look at Hook, after what he'd done?

David groaned again, his hand rubbing at his eyes, where the intense throbbing was at its worst.

He must have woken Snow, because a hand was suddenly gently on his face, thumb brushing over his skin. David smiled a little at Snow's touch.

"You okay?"

David's eyes snapped open.

That wasn't Snow's voice.

That was Emma.

His heart suddenly pounding in his chest, he blinked at the unfamiliar ceiling.

He wasn't in bed with Snow.

He was in bed with Emma.

Which meant…

That hand on his face…

Horrible, terrible, wrong panic shot through him.

"What's wrong?" came Emma's voice again, and David turned his head, eyes flying wide. Emma was lying in the bed next to him, her hand still on his face with a touch that was far too tender for a father and daughter.

That cold panic ran through his entire body.

He was in bed with his daughter.

Why the hell was he in bed with his daughter?

She was staring at him with rich concern, like there was something wrong with him, a sort of lovingness in her eyes that should not be directed at her father.

He was in bed.

With his daughter.

In bed.

No.

Nonononono—he wasn't even going there. There was no way. He—something must have happened last night, he got drunk or injured—head injury, it had to be—no, he must have just been closer to Emma's house than home, and… and, they let him sleep it off… or… something...

But damn it, it did not explain the fact that his daughter was leaning over to kiss him.

David jerked away, moving quickly away from her before she could.

Stark hurt gleaned in Emma's eyes at his recoil. She reached for his face again, but he flinched back. "I don't understand," she whispered, voice hurt. "Did I do something? What's wrong?"

Everything.

"Killian?"

That gave him pause.

Panic rushing to a halt, absolute confusion filling its place, David asked, "Why did you just call me—"

He froze.

His voice.

That wasn't his voice.

He didn't have an accent.

Trying to sit up, because something was horribly, horribly wrong, David faltered, his left hand for whatever reason having gone completely numb. Had he slept on it? He looked down, intending to shake feeling back into it.

His heart stopped.

His hand was gone.

His arm simply… ended.

Fear and shock flooded him.

"Killian…?"

Holy lord.

Shock widening his eyes even more with the sudden horrible understanding, he turned a bewildered gaze onto Emma. She was looking at him with nothing short of fearful concern. She saw him stare in shock at his—at Hook's—left arm, and her brows kneaded with sad understanding. She suddenly touched his left arm, fingers feather-light where the wrist ended in a stump. "Did you dream about it again?" she whispered.

David blinked.

He was Hook.

This can't be happening.

"Do you want to talk about it?" asked Emma, now concerned for a different reason. From her tone of voice, this wasn't an uncommon topic for first thing in the morning.

David shook himself.

He was in Hook's body.

He was in Hook's body.

Emma reached for him again, and David reflexively began to move away but Emma's cell phone suddenly rang from the nightstand. She looked from David to her ringing phone, and with a slightly apologetic look she sat up and answered it.

David blinked, trying to figure out how the hell to explain this to Emma.

"What?"

David looked at Emma, seeing her brows shoot up.

"Um, okay," said Emma, biting her lip. "Weird." She sighed. "I'm sure it's fine… Yeah, let me know," she said, and hung up the phone. Looking at David, she said, "That was my mom."

Putting the whole trapped-in-a-pirate's-body thing aside for half a second, David felt fear shoot through him. "Snow? Is she all right?"

Emma looked a little surprised by his fear. "Uh, yeah, it's just… weird. She said David just… took off without telling her where he was going."

David froze.

He had a clone running around?

Wait.

Wait.

If he was in Hook's body…

No.

No.

Absolutely not.

"Mom said she took Leo for a walk, but by the time she came back he was gone. He didn't even take the truck or his phone." said Emma.

Hook had been in bed with his wife.

Hook had been in bed with his wife.

David was off the bed in seconds.

"Killian?!"

Getting a furious heat every time he heard that name, David tried to keep his calm. If he could track down the damn pirate, he could make him undo whatever spell or potion he used to trap them like this and no one will be the wiser.

Dammit he wasn't about to tell his daughter they were just in bed together.

"Where are you going?" asked Emma. "You don't seem like yourself," she said, her brow lifting like she does when she's trying to catch someone in a lie.

She doesn't know the half of it.

David paused, trying to come up with an excuse to leave. "I—I'll go look for Ho—David," he said awkwardly.

Emma's brows kneaded. "I thought you said it didn't go well last night," she said sadly.

David froze.

No, it didn't.

He swallowed.

"Maybe my dad just needed to blow off some steam and go for a run or something," suggested Emma.

David thought fast. "Without his phone?"

Emma's brows lifted with surprise. "You finally stopped referring to it as a talking phone, huh?"

David blinked.

Right. Hook.

He cleared his throat. "Just in case something's wrong," he tried again. Because oh, when he found him, something was going to be wrong, all right.

Emma stood, walking around the bed to him, putting her hands around his neck. David tensed but she didn't try to kiss him. "Killian, I know it's killing you that he's upset. You've barely slept all week."

David tried not to react.

"One day," she whispered, "he'll see you the way he used to. The way I do. I know it. Just give it some time. He'll forgive you."

No, he won't.

David swallowed. "I'll go find him and… fix this mess."

One of the messes, anyway.

Emma sighed.

-.-.

Killian stopped, ducking into an alley, panting hard.

He was only lucky that Snow hadn’t been in the loft—or gods forbid, in bed. He grabbed a pair of David’s shoes and bolted.

There was zero chance he was going to risk Snow kissing him. He was lucky as all hell that she wasn't in bed when he woke up.

David hated him already.

Bloody hell.

He was David.

He was David.

How the devil did this happen?!

Killian stared at his hands.

His hands.

There was a piece of scrap wood on the ground at his feet. Killian picked it up, holding it between his hands. Felt it in his left fingers.

For half a second, he wanted to breathe out in relief.

Two hands.

Tears sprung to his eyes.

The last time he'd had two hands was when he made the bloody deal with the Crocodile, and he hadn't even been able to enjoy it for a full day.

But these weren't his hands, they were David's and damn it this was so wrong.

He dropped the wood, scrubbing his right hand over his face.

Regina.

That was it.

He could go to Regina. This had dark magic all over it.

Killian left the alley.

Not a moment later, he was tackled back into the alley.

His back—David's back, that was—slammed into the wall, and Killian grimaced, fighting the—

—incredibly familiar hand on his chest.

He blinked, freezing his movements.

In shock, he stared at himself.

It wasn't the first time he stared at himself, and the last time he'd even knocked himself out.

But this time, this other him looked absolutely murderous.

"What the hell did you do?" snarled the Killian before him.

"I…" breathed Killian, in utter shock.

His doppleganger shoved him harder against the wall, making him cringe. "Don't play games with me, Hook!" growled the other Killian. "Switch us back, now."

Killian blinked.

Switch…?

Suddenly, it clicked.

If Killian was in David's body...

That must mean…

Bloody hell.

"David?" breathed Killian.

His brows rose in a duh look, and Killian suddenly realized what people meant by his expressive eyebrows.

"Switch us back," growled David, shoving him again, pinning him with Killian's own right hand, "or I swear to god I'll—" He reared back his left, stopping abruptly when he realized he had no hand.

"Works better when there's a hook at the end of it," muttered Killian. Except, he paused, because David wasn't wearing his brace.

It was only recently that he'd started to remove his brace at night. It had taken him so long to even allow Emma to see it, to see… beneath it, but he never wanted to make it a normal occasion. But after his return from the Underworld, Emma had finally coaxed him into feeling… accepted by her. It was proven to him that, at that point, after everything he'd done, all the sides of him she's seen… nothing would push her away from him.

That by no means meant he was excited about the whole town seeing it.

"Where the bloody hell is my brace?" he growled.

"I don't give a damn!" snapped David right back. Shoving him again, he said, "Change us back! I'm sick of looking at you and I don't want to have to do it every time I look in a mirror!"

Killian shut his eyes at the contempt in his voice. Swallowing, he said, "Mate, I—"

"I am not your mate!"

Boy, it was weird hearing that line from his own voice.

"David," he altered, "I don't know what the bloody hell you're talking about because I didn't do this!" he said angrily. "What could I possibly gain?!"

"I don't know," hissed David, "two hands?"

Killian's jaw snapped shut.

It was a low blow, and it hurt.

"I told you," said Killian when he could find his voice, "I didn't do this. I woke up in your body, confused out of my bloody mind."

"Well I woke up in bed with my daughter," hissed David.

Killian's brows shot up.

Bloody damn hell.

"Did you tell her you weren't me?" he demanded.

"Before or after she tried to kiss me?" snapped David.

Killian felt his heart drop down to his boots. "She what?!"

"She didn't," added David in a mutter, making Killian nearly breath out in relief. "And no, of course not! You fix whatever spell you used and I don't have to tell her anything!"

"In case you haven't noticed," shouted Killian right back, "I'm not a bloody magic user!"

"You don't need to use magic to make a potion," growled David.

Killian let his head fall against the wall, shutting his eyes in frustration, finding it bloody ridiculous that he was pinning himself against a wall. "How many times do I have to tell you I didn't do this?!"

David glared at him for a solid minute, and Killian glared right back. After a moment, Killian watched the fire waver in his—David's—eyes. "You didn't, did you?"

"No."

After a moment, David released him. Killian fought the urge to rub the pain from his shoulders.

A little of that glare back, David muttered, "Well this is just great."

Sick of being treated like this—however much he deserved it—Killian narrowed his eyes. "I'm not happy about it either."

Slight silence spread.

Killian was the one to break it. "We should tell them," he said quietly.

"I am not walking up to my wife looking like you," snarled David, "to tell her I'm me!"

The angry heat under Killian's skin made him retort, "Afraid she'd prefer it?"

He hadn't clapped back with that kind of line in years, and he winced the moment it left his mouth. David's constant verbal punches shorted his temper and Killian suddenly wished he could take it back.

He wished he could take so, so many things back.

Angrily, David fisted Killian's own right hand, making Killian brace himself but David stopped himself. "You're damn lucky I'm not going to punch my own face."

Killian winced. "I'm sorry," he sighed shortly, because dammit he was doing a great job making things better with David. "But you have a point. I'm not sure Emma or her Highness would know exactly how to… be… around us at all," he admitted. If they were stuck like this—god forbid, forever—Emma would never kiss him again. And she'd be right to. He's in her father's body for the love of Davy Jones.

David huffed out a breath. "Any bright ideas, pirate?"

Killian bristled a little, hating how the title always sounded like an insult. "We should find someone who does practice magic," he said.

"Gold?" suggested David, and Killian wrinkled his nose hearing his voice call him anything except the name he created for the monster.

"The Crocodile? You're not serious," said Killian in disbelief.

David shook his head. "You're right. Bad idea."

"Regina?" suggested Killian.

David sighed. "Let's hope she knows what the hell happened."

-.-.

They walked the few blocks to Regina's house.

Along the way, neither of them spoke other than Killian's quiet request that David keep his left arm beneath the sleeve of his jacket at all times.

David huffed a "Fine," but said nothing else.

David knocked on the door. They both waited until it opened, revealing Regina.

Her brows lifted in unimpressed surprise. "Um," she said, looking from both of them and back. "What?" Confusion and disinterest colored her tone, sounding like she was distracted by something else.

"We…" began Killian, but David cut him off.

"Morning... love," he greeted, making Killian wince at the unsteady way he phrased the epithet, shooting him a confused look. "We had a theory about how to handle our current crisis," said David smoothly as hook, and Killian raised his brows.

Killian blinked.

So that's why the walk over here was so silent.

David spent the whole damn time crafting a lie.

Regina crossed her arms. "I'm listening."

"We were wondering about… could you cast a temporary, I don't know, body-swapping spell?"

Regina lifted her brow. "Body-swapping? That's your idea?"

"One of them," said David.

She looked from Killian to David, as if she sensed something off, but not what. "Like Pan did?" she clarified.

"Exactly like that," said David, brows rising. Killian's interest perked even more, having forgotten about when Pan switched bodies with Henry.

"Yeah, well that's because he was Pan," deadpanned Regina. "I have no idea how to do that kind of magic. Gold needed his dagger's power to undo what that creepy little brat did to Henry."

Killian shut his eyes.

"Gold—ah, Rumplestiltskin," echoes David.

"Yep."

A slight silence.

Then—

"Well, we'll keep thinking," said David awkwardly.

Regina nodded impatiently. "And then try a phone."

She shut the door. Hard.

David raised Killian's eyebrow.

Before he could say it, Killian said, "No."

He wasn't exactly surprised when David ignored him.

-.-.-.

The bell to the Crocodile's shop rang as they walked through the door.

Killian felt himself go instantly on edge just being in the very room.

"Gold," called David.

The curtains leading to the back of the shop moved aside and the Crocodile walked through them. He eyed both Killian and David in surprise, then suspicion, then…

He smiled. "Well, isn't this interesting."

"I knew he was bloody responsible," growled Killian.

Rumplestiltskin turned his unsettling smile onto Killian. "Captain. You look… different."

"Did you do this to us?" demanded David.

Rumplestiltskin raised an eyebrow. "And why would I waste any of my valuable time doing something so pointless?" He watched Killian seethe. "Though, I see the entertainment factor."

"Obviously you know we're… like this," said David. "If you didn't do it, how can you tell?"

"Other than the fact that neither of you walk like you're supposed to and you," he said to David, "clearly don't know what to do with a missing hand?" Turning a sick smile onto Killian, he sneered, "Maybe you can give him some pointers. Or, well. One."

Killian jerked, but David grabbed his arm. "Get yourself killed when you're not in my body," he hissed.

Reluctantly, Killian stayed put.

"Look," said David with waning patience. "You returned Henry to his body when Pan switched them. Get your dagger and fix us."

Gold smiled a tight-lipped smile. "What's in it for me, dearie?"

"Either do it for us now," said David firmly, "or we find Belle and ask her to convince you to. You're walking on thin ice with her as it is."

Gold's smile disappeared. "Very well." He walked into the back of the shop, returning a few moments later with the dagger. He held it between the two of them. He closed his eyes, and Killian suddenly felt a sensation that he was falling.

But as quick as it came, it abruptly stopped, like he hit a wall.

Both he and David stumbled. Killian caught himself on the counter, but David missed it—Killian understood that all too well—and he fell to his knees.

"What the bloody hell happened?" demanded Killian, staring at David's hands. He looked at the man himself. "I'm still you."

"And I'm still you," muttered David, using his right hand to get to his feet.

"Peculiar."

Both men looked at him.

"What is?" asked David.

Gold pocketed his dagger. "Looks like I won't be able to help you after all."

"Why the hell not?" growled Killian.

"This type of magic is some of the only magic I cannot touch," explained Gold, and by the victorious smile on his face, Killian knew it was the truth. "The only similar magic I've seen is that infused with the genie lamp our friend Aladdin found himself in."

"You're saying this is like wish magic?" said David blankly.

"That is exactly what I'm saying," said Gold.

"And you can't fix it," confirmed David flatly.

"No." He looked between them. "Magic is a fickle thing, dearies. Sometimes it finds you. And if you happen to wish something badly enough—"

"I made no such wish!" exclaimed David. "To be—to be him?" he breathed, making Killian stiffen. "Why the hell would I wish—" He turned to Killian, fury in his eyes. "Unless you—"

"Ma—" Killian caught himself from using the forbidden nickname. "David, I told you, I have no bloody reason to be you! I didn't bloody make any sort of wish last night!"

"Well neither did I!"

"Well one of you did," said Gold, making them look at him. "Magic like this only affects people strictly involved. One of you made it and you'll have to see it through. It happened for a reason and until that reason is met, this is how you'll remain."

"We don't even know what the hell kind of a wish it was," stressed David. "See what through?"

"That, dearie, is not my concern." said Gold. "Best figure it out soon, or it will be a very uncomfortable wedding."

Gold walked back into the back room, leaving Killian frozen in horror.

The wedding.

If this magic has to run its course, if it takes until they see it through—

What if it takes too long?

What if they're stuck like this forever?

David whirled on him. "You wished to be me?!"

Killian's eyes narrowed. "I didn't bloody wish for anything except you to—" Killian hesitated.

David froze. "You did wish something," he breathed. "What? What the hell did you wish, Hook?"

Killian blinked.

He remembered the conversation last night, how he felt, how desperately he wanted David to forgive him.

"I… I might have," he admitted, seeing David narrow his eyes. "But I didn't bloody realize I was wishing it!"

"What the hell did you wish?"

"I just wanted you to forgive me." said Killian in a defeated voice.

David held his gaze, furious emotion in Killian's own blue eyes.

"Then I guess we're staying like this forever."

And with that, David walked away.

Killian shut his eyes.

-.-.-.

Killian had to run to catch up with him.

"David," he called.

He kept walking.

"Please," he tried, and he picked up his pace, feeling a terrible sense of deja vu.

"What?" snapped David, whirling around.

"I didn't mean for this to happen," he said.

"Just like you didn't mean to put a sword through my father?"

Killian's eyes screwed shut.

A million different apologies rushed through him, but he swallowed them all. They won't work.

"I know you won't forgive me," said Killian heavily. "After what I did… I get it." A cold feeling settled inside him when David made no move to argue. "But if this… this wish or this whatever it is, is waiting for you to forgive me to break it... then maybe you can just... say it. Without… without being sincere."

David held his gaze, and Killian couldn't get over how weird it was to see David's emotions in his eyes.

But David sighed. "Fine." With complete insincerity, he said, "I forgive you."

The way he said it held such disgust that Killian wasn't surprised in the least when the curse wasn't broken.

Quietly, Killian said, "You might need to mean it, ma—" Killian caught himself, "David."

David glared at him.

A long moment passed.

"I can't."

Killian felt his shoulders fall. He shut his eyes. "You're not even going to bloody try?"

"Like you tried to spare my father's—"

"Enough!" growled Killian. "I said I was bloody sorry!"

"Sorry doesn't bring my father back."

Killian shut his eyes.

He was not having this conversation again.

He couldn't.

As heartless as David thought he was, he had one, and it was currently in pieces.

"David," said Killian heavily. "Your wife is going to want to see you at some point!"

"Then we find another way."

"The bloody Dark One couldn't do it!"

"Well then you shouldn't have wished it in the first place!"

Killian wanted to scream.

"I just wanted my friend back!"

The words came out before Killian could stop them, and he saw David pause.

Then, he looked Killian in the eye.

"And I just want my father back."

Killian felt ice slide through his chest, much the same as his sword had cut through David's father.

David huffed a sigh. "We're going to have to figure this out together," he said, like the idea did not excite him in the least. "But I… I need to get some air. Meet me in one hour at the Blue Fairy's. We're going to find a way to break this damn wish, and then I never want to see your face again."

David walked away, and Killian shut his eyes, trying to will away the burn behind his eyes.

-.-.

David walked through the trees of the Storybrooke woodland, trying to shake the angry heat in his veins.

He needed to get away from him.

The forest always felt like a calming place to him, so he attempted to calm down enough to face the bastard again and get this over with.

David came to a stop at the edge of the lake, accidentally catching a glimpse of his face—Hook's face—in the water.

With a growl, he kicked a rock into the water, watching the reflection shatter in ripples.

"No!"

He fought the ropes of the mast, securing him tightly to his own bloody ship. The Dark One's magic held him tight—too tight.

Milah's heart was in the imp's hand.

She couldn't breathe.

He himself couldn't breathe.

She crumpled to the ground.

The magic released him, and he ran, panic consuming him, catching her before she could hit the deck.

"I love you."

And just like that, the Dark One crushed the heart, killing her in an instant.

Despair, horrible, blinding, despair—

David gasped, hands flying to his aching head, only his right hand making it.

He watched her body fall into the water with a splash.

Kept his eyes on her until she disappeared beneath the waves.

A horrible sense of loneliness.

And he looked down at his left hand—or, where it had once been.

It hurt.

It hurt so horribly.

But it was nothing compared to the loss of her.

David fell to his knees, eyes screwed shut.

But the ache faded away, as did the visions.

He stared at the water, seeing Hook's reflection.

What…?

What did he just see?

Were those…?

Hook's memories?

The woman.

Somehow he knew her name was Milah.

The one who was killed, and launched Hook on his quest for revenge.

He could still feel the emotions from the memory.

Hook's emotions.

The sense of loss, the empty loneliness in his chest.

He had nothing.

No one.

David blinked, staring at Hook's face in the water.

David himself had dealt with loss before.

He'd lost his mother.

But… he'd never experienced having nothing.

He'd had Snow, and the dwarves and the Kingdom. He'd never once been truly alone.

He'd never experience the sheer sort of loneliness that Hook's memory brought. It was such a strong hurt that it felt physical.

David swallowed.

But he shut his eyes, tearing his gaze away from the water.

It felt horrible.

It was horrible, how Hook had once felt.

But he was a pirate.

He's taken so many lives.

He was a villain.

Loneliness didn't condone murdering an innocent man.

That didn't condone murdering his father.

David picked himself up, faltering when he forgot he didn't have a left hand.

He sighed, and he started back.

-.-.

David saw Killian—or, himself, as it was—waiting for him just outside the mansion.

Killian had his hands in his pockets, leaning against a tree. When he noticed David, he seemed to tense, and straightened immediately.

David felt the angry heat he'd tried to shake off the past hour return at the sight of him.

"Let's get this over with," snapped David.

Wordlessly, Killian nodded, and they both started up the steps to the mansion.

Once David walked through the door, Mother Superior was standing in the foyer already. Her brows crinkled when she saw them.

"I thought I was needed," she said softly. Looking between the two of them, her brows rose a little. "Oh," she said with a little surprise.

"How you and Gold can notice it in a second," said David, "and my daughter couldn't after ten minutes, I'll never understand."

She smiled a little. "Those of us who have been with magic longer sense it easier." She clasped her hands. "I'm assuming you came to get changed back?"

"Can you?" asked Killian.

She pulled out her wand, shutting her eyes and holding it between them like Gold had done with the dagger.

Her eyes opened. "Wish magic."

"Yes," said Killian, "the Crocodile told us that much. He either didn't know how to fix us or didn't want to."

"I sense he has told you how to solve your problem," she said quietly.

David fought the urge to groan. "We were wondering if there was another way. Without… fulfilling the wish."

Her brows crinkled. "With a wish this strong?"

David's brows rose, looking at Killian.

…Who suddenly found the floor incredibly interesting.

"What do you mean?" asked David.

"A wish fueled with this much emotion is near impossible to break before fulfilled," she said.

David blinked.

Emotion?

Hook wished for his forgiveness that badly?

Shaking away the wonderment, David said, "Near impossible. You said near." Raising a brow, he said, "There is a way, isn't there?"

Blue hesitated.

"What is it?" breathed David.

She sighed. "The only way to break it would be to drink broken magic."

Both David and Hook simply blinked in confusion.

"Drink what?" Hook asked.

"It would be impossible in the Enchanted Forest or any other realm," said Blue, "but this is a land without magic. At least, outside these city limits. If you were to take the well water, where our magic here originates, pass it over the town line and then drink it, there is a great chance this will be broken."

"We can't just walk over the town line?" asked David.

"For a wish this strong," she repeated again, making David try his best to ignore how Hook went rigid, "you'll need the strongest, most pure magic here to break. You cannot break this spell without broken pure magic. And it must be retrieved together."

David sighed. "Okay. Well water, town line." He nodded. "Easier than I thought."

Blue regarded him, and then Hook, with a thoughtful gaze. Almost like she knew something they didn't.

But David was already walking away, determined and ready to get this over with.

Not too far away was one of the two town cruisers.

David always left a spare key under the rim, and when he got to the car. He retrieved it.

With a sigh, he waited for Hook to catch up.

They needed to do this together, it seemed, which really ruined David's plan of getting it all himself.

David let himself into the car, watching Hook silently get in the passengers seat.

David reached to close the door, but remembered.

No left hand.

With a sigh he reached his right hand to pull the door shut. Then, he grabbed the seatbelt, pulling it over himself, his left arm moving to help it, but again—no left hand. He tried again, but the belt retracted completely.

"This is impossible!" growled David.

A slight silence spread in the passenger seat as David tried to get the seatbelt with one hand.

"You get used to it."

David paused at the quiet voice, seeing Hook not looking at him, and instead at David's own left hand. He was opening and closing it.

Just because he could.

David finally got the seatbelt to click in. He looked at Hook, seeing a familiar emotion in his eyes to something David felt in Hook's memory.

But then, he remembered himself.

Remembered the man sitting next to him was his father's murderer.

And he put the car into gear, pulling onto the street, doing his best to do everything one handed.

Hook didn't say anything else.

Just kept opening and closing his hand in silence.

-.-.-

They walked through the woods in silence.

David took the lead, letting Hook slink behind.

He really did look miserable.

But David didn't let himself fall for it.

He killed your father, he told himself firmly.

David tripped, nearly falling, but caught himself.

"Woah," he said, catching himself on the side of the ship, staring his five-year-old eyes onto the water.

"Careful, there, Killian," said his father, standing beside him. "You'll get your sea legs one day, m'boy."

"Will you teach me to sail?"

His father ruffled his hair. "Of course, my son."

David gasped, his head pounding.

He woke up in his cabin, but Liam wasn't in his bed across from him.

He sat up. "Father?" he called.

Liam, a few years older than him but not even yet a teenager, came in. "It's just us, Killian. Remember?"

"He'll come back," he replied with a sureness that shook. "He told me he's gonna teach me to sail."

Liam took his shoulders. "Killian, he sold us to the ship. He isn't coming back. But I will never leave you." He smiled. "I'll teach you to sail."

Sadness, fear, emptiness.

Desperation.

"You won't leave?" he whispered.

"Never."

David fell to his knee.

"David?!"

"Liam!"

He was turning black. The poison was taking his life.

"He wouldn't have if you hadn't goaded him into it."

No.

He couldn't lose him.

No.

The boy led him to the water, the blackness was receding.

Liam was saved.

His brother was all right.

His fractured world put haphazardly back together.

"Killian, I'm sorry. You were the honorable one. Not me."

Killian smiled.

They were in the cabin.

Liam couldn't breathe.

He fell.

"Help!"

Killian cradled him.

Tears burned down his face.

He was gone.

He was dead.

Killian was alone.

David felt a sharp shake.

"David!"

David opened his eyes, seeing himself—or, as it was, Hook—leaning over him with stark concern.

David blinked, headache receding.

"Are you all right?" asked Hook shakily. "Don't tell me I'm bloody dying," he said, almost like a joke, but the fear in his eyes gave him away.

David was still reeling from the memories.

How could one person lose so much?

And for his father to walk away from him when he was just a child?

To lose his brother as a teenager?

And then to fall in love, only to have her killed before his eyes?

Hook's emotions in the memories were still inside him.

He killed your father.

He killed your father.

He killed your father.

"David?!"

David shoved him off, getting back to his feet, even when he forgot yet again how difficult it was without a left hand.

He started walking again.

Hook hurried to catch up with him. "You're not going to bloody tell me why you just collapsed?"

"Tripped."

Hook glared at him.

But he let it drop.

David suddenly wondered if the pirate was seeing his own memories.

He walked faster.

And he tried not to think about the horrible emptiness he still felt linger from the memories.

They made it to the well not long after.

David began to pull the bucket of water up, only remembering that he was missing a hand.

Again.

Wordlessly, Hook took over.

David stared at the trees.

He took a swig of rum, straight from the bottle.

He used to be proud of his tolerance. Now he's annoyed he's too good at drinking.

He was alone.

In every sense of the word.

He was in his cabin, sat behind his desk.

He thought of his brother.

Wondered how disappointed he would be in him.

He thought of Milah.

Looked at his hand. His hook.

He wondered if she would still love him like this.

He missed her.

He took another swig.

He killed four people today.

He felt nothing.

He hasn't felt anything in centuries.

He'll kill again tomorrow.

He'll feel nothing again.

He'll continue his search for the Crocodile.

He only hoped that once he's dead, maybe he will feel something again.

Something other than hatred.

And he learned something tonight, something he's known forever but only admitted tonight.

He didn't hate the Crocodile any more than he hated himself.

"Got it."

David jerked, eyes flying open, glad the tree had been at his back. His head throbbed.

David cleared his throat.

Hook nodded toward the town line without looking at him.

David stared after him.

He killed your father.

The words don't hold the same amount of heat.

David swallowed, and he followed.

-.-.

Hook was standing at the edge of the town, before the line.

He had the bucket in his right hand.

David walked to him.

"Let's get it over with, shall we," said Hook quietly.

David moved to nod.

"I found this."

August handed him the page.

He looked.

And he recognized David's father.

Horror sank through him.

No.

It couldn't be.

Please, no.

He couldn't breathe.

His legs were numb.

How could he do this?

How could he ever have done this?

How could he have been such a terrible, vile person?

He was just beginning to feel redeemed.

He's hated himself so much.

He still did.

But he had just begun to feel proud.

He had just gained David's approval.

He never even thought he could gain him as a friend.

Panic shot through him.

David.

No.

No, no, no….

How could he do this?

He could remember it, he could picture it.

The sword in his grip, the steel sliding into the man's body.

His eyes burned.

He wanted to scream.

David feels two hand grab him before he can fall.

"David?! Mate?!"

Hook steadied him.

David looked at him.

Felt the panic from the memory.

"David," breathed Hook. "What's happening? What's wrong?"

David, in all his life, had never felt that.

Felt a hatred that strong, directed at himself.

Felt a constant uphill battle to do better. 

And felt such utter remorse, such panic, such desperation to lose the people he had been almost too afraid to let into his life after so much loss.

This was a man who was broken more than David could ever imagine.

A man who realized how far wrong he had been, and clawed his way back to right.

David had known Hook wanted to make things right, had regretted what he had done, but he didn't understand just how deeply he did.

And suddenly, his headache grew tenfold, accompanied with the strict feeling of falling.

David watched Hook's eyes screw shut before his own did, both men nearly collapsing from the pressure.

When David opened his eyes, he was facing the other direction.

And standing where he had been was Hook.

Hook grimaced, his hand to his head, slowly opening his eyes. When he saw David, his eyes widened. "Bloody—" He looked to the town line. "We didn't even do it," he breathed. "How…?"

"I never knew."

Hook paused, brows lifting. "Sorry?"

"I never knew," said David, tossing the bucket to the ground. "How much you lost."

Hook tensed. "What..?"

"I don't know how, but… I could… see some of your memories," said David.

Hook went rigid.

"Hook," said David, tensing Hook even more. He sighed. "I can't forgive what you've done."

David watch despair descend in Hook's eyes. "I… understand," he said quietly.

"But I do forgive you."

Hook's brows shot to his hairline.

"Killian, what I saw, what your life was," he said slowly, "I don't know how I would have lived through it. I can't say that I'm okay with the fact that you…" He didn't phrase it but Hook flinched a little. "I guess I'm trying to say that I could see it from your... perspective. I could feel what you felt. You aren't that man anymore."

Hook looked at him with such hope that David had the stark reminder of the memory of Killian as a little boy.

"I'm sorry for how I spoke to you," added David. "Especially about your hand. It was uncalled for."

Hook shook his head. "It wasn't. David, I really do wish I could—"

David slapped a hand over his mouth. "Do not finish that thought."

David removed his hand, and Hook smiled.

A little piece of his heart falling back into place.

--.-.-.

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welcome to whatever this is.

some info/rules:

- right now I’m writing for descendants (mainly rise of red) and dead boy detectives

- I only write for male or gn readers

- I don’t do NSFW or smut

- right now I’m writing for Hook, Morgie, Hades, Prince Charming, Monty (DBD), Edwin (DBD) and Charles (DBD)

- I also write for groups/poly ships

- please be respectful when sending requests

- my blog looks better in dark mode

- 61 fics (last updated september 15)

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[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Season 3 Rewatch Drabbles: 3x5 Good Form

Summary:  A series of 100-500 word drabbles to accompany my    rewatch of season 3 of Once Upon a Time.  There will be a drabble–either a deleted scene, a “fix it” fic or a character musing for each episode of the season.  Focus will be on Emma, Henry, the Charmings and Killian–with an emphasis on Captain Swan’s epic love story.

Word Count: 745

Other Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22) (23) (24) (25) (26) (27) (28)

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Killian touched his lips softly, almost reverently, as he sat alone in the forest. She’d kissed him.  She’d actually kissed him.  Killian reached for his flask, needing the familiar burn of the rum on his tongue to prove to himself that he was awake and was not, in fact, in the throws of a delicious dream.

He’d flirted with her, smiling his teasing smile and playfully touching his lips as he suggested a way she might thank him for his service toward her father, but he’d never expected her to take him up on his suggestion.

Not that he was complaining.  That kiss had been…. He blew out a long sigh.  Even for a man so normally silver tongued as he was, there were no words.

It was more than the kiss itself–that had been steamy, passionate, blissful, of course–but it was more than that. It was….it was what the kiss revealed.

He loved her.  He was in love with her.  She’d snuck under his defenses as stealthily as any pirate could have, and without his knowledge, she’d taken possession of his heart.

It was an uncomfortable feeling, if he were being honest.  He’d never been one to bestow his love lightly, but when he did, there was no going back.  He’d spent two-hundred bloody (often literally) years in Neverland because of love for Milah, for heaven’s sake.  The thought of moving on from her, of bestowing his heart on another and giving her the power to crush it as thoroughly as Milah’s death had done…

He took another long swallow.

Well, there was nothing for it now.  It had happened.  He’d fallen in love again.

As he continued to sit and ruminate on the events of the day, it occurred to him that while the revelation of his love was momentous, it was by no means the only noteworthy thing that had happened that day.

This place, Neverland, had a truly ghastly effect on its inhabitants.  It had a way of bringing one's worst fears, one's greatest insecurities, one's biggest regrets to mind.  This place was depression in physical form.  He’d survived his last stint here with the aid of one thing and one thing only–his revenge.  That goal, that singular purpose had allowed him to keep his wits about him.

This time around….well, the fact that he’d allowed the Crocodile on his ship, formed a tentative truce with him, proved that he had given up on that revenge.  Without that singular focus to ruminate upon, he’d spent the hours on this island this go around reminded of his sins, his faults, the fact that he was a villain whom the heroes tolerated only.

Hadn’t David said it himself this morning? “Let me give you a bit of advice, Hook. She’s never gonna like you.  How could she?  You’re nothing but a pirate.”

Though he’d tried to keep the mocking grin on his face, it had stung, and for the first time, Killian realized how very much he wanted to change his life, become the kind of man Emma’s father–a man who was so much like his own hero, Liam–would approved of.

But at that moment, the gloom of Neverland had descended, and he’d come to realize he’d never be that man; he’d never overcome his past.  He’d never reach a higher status than “the pirate with which we’ve formed a temporary but begrudging alliance”.

And so it had continued throughout the day.  David had taken pains to make his disdain and dislike known and felt, taking small verbal digs at him, even as he attempted to save his life.

So it was that the second most astounding event of the day–second only to the kiss–had happened.  When they’d returned to camp after achieving their ends at the top of Dead Man’s Peak, David had not only given him credit, but had toasted him, had bestowed on him the look of approval and gratitude Killian had never dared hope to receive from him.

It had embarrassed him a bit, having the entire company of heroes and Regina (he still wasn’t sure where upon the hero-villain spectrum she truly belonged) raise a flask to him, but the warmth it engendered had been as potent as his rum.

For the first time, he could see a way forward.  Maybe he didn’t have to be forever defined by his past villainous deeds.  Perhaps….perhaps there was a path to redemption available for him after all.

NEXT CHAPTER->

[insanelydeadlybookcollector]

Ah, my friend, G,

I just want to thank you so much for your Once Upon a Time - Captain Swan, Captain Cobra, and Snowing - fics. I can't believe you're up to eight great stories now. But by god have i loved them.

Especially your ones you posted today. The proposal is so angsty and a great character study.

And the kiss in Ocean Walks, as well as those meaningful conversations, are just so well written and poignant.

Thanks for writing them.

Thank you anon, (although you know my real initial so I think I know who I'm talking to),

It means a lot that you enjoyed these stories, especially the two I published today, one's heavy with a couple of different important topics and the other's an exploration of free indirect discourse so it's a little cyclical and rambly as it comes from Emma's perspective. I'm glad you liked them both.

Thank you for leaving this lovely message.

[gayashelljatp]

Prince Charming x James Hook | Trophy Boy Chapter 6

Tags :Sorta Enemies to Lovers Fake/Pretend Relationship Not Canon Compliant, Inspired by Cinderella (1997), I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Prince Charming is a Bi-King, Prince Charming Is Filipino, Because the actor is and I also am one so yeah, Prince Charming gets a lot of bitches but no love, Merlin Academy (Disney), James Hook is gay, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, I don't know how to tag in this fandom, No Beta Like Not Going To Castlecoming

Content Rating: Teen and Up.

Summary:

Charming had himself caught up in a pretty little lie, telling his parents he had a date for his birthday ball. Desperate to stop their meddling in his love life, he came up with a plan: show up with someone who’d make the court gasp—a notorious pirate at school, James Hook. It was supposed to be a quick fix: fake a romance, cause a stir, and be free from the royal matchmakers forever. But the more time Charming spent with Hook—as a person, the sharp banter—the more complicated things got. This wasn’t just about pretending anymore. He was starting to get hooked. Or The enemies to fake dating to lovers between Hook and Charming no one asked for.

Notes:

Can y'all applaud me. Yes I updated on Tumblr on time what a mircale!!! I do appreciate all of y'all who read on this platform. This is honestly a passion project I do to escape reality for a minute or two.

Had to update y'all at least one more time before the holidays. This chapter was very out of my comfort zone writing I don't do much drama I'm more a romance fluff writer. So here is some drama that I've been setting up since the very beginning. This is the family breakfast (brunch) and the day of the actual ball. Don't worry cute stuff happens before I hurt y'all.

A few housekeeping reminders: - This fic has multiple POVs for Charming focused parts 👑 emojis are used on the other hook if it's James it's this emoji 🪝. - It wouldn't be a GayashellJATP fic without a playlist of songs I have on that help immerse you,

Chapter 6: Pre-Ball Discord

 👑 

Charming felt the breeze rush past him as he watched Hook effortlessly skate down the castle’s steps. For once, Hook was trying out the skater-boy style. 

A tight black shirt that clung to his chest in ways that should’ve been illegal, paired with some very shredded, loose jeans that only emphasized his already toned legs. He looked almost too good to be true.

The skateboard seemed to float like water beneath him, the wheels barely made sound on the pristine marble.

Hook glanced back over his shoulder. The sunlight caught his hook and the chain around his neck. His dark windswept hair was tousled just enough to look careless but perfect. He flipped it with a casual toss of his head like it was a weapon and he knew how to use it, “Keep up, Princey.”

The way he said it was enough to light a fire in Charming’s chest. It made him want to scream. Or tackle him. Maybe both.

“I could skate circles around you, I was just going easy on you,” Charming shouted, picking up his pace.

“Oh, easy ?”

Charming groaned, half from frustration at how insufferably smug Hook looked, and half because, damn it, he was ridiculously hot. Suddenly, the skateboards were gone, leaving them standing toe-to-toe in the castle courtyard. Hook was now all up in his face, his smirk replaced by something darker yet soft.

He reached out, grabbing Charming by the front of his shirt. His fingers curled just enough to pull the prince closer, the warmth of his hand radiating through the fabric. And the coldness of his Hook sent shivers down his neck.

The pirate leaned in, his breath brushing against Charming’s ear as he whispered something that made his ears burn, words he couldn’t quite make out but that left his stomach flipping in ways it definitely shouldn’t have. But before he could respond—

“Sir, you should wake up.”

The sharp voice of Lionel cut through and reality had set back in. Charming’s eyes flew open, waking up rudely dragged him away from the borderline wet dream he was enjoying.

He blinked, disoriented, only to realize he was still half-asleep and clinging to Hook like a lifeboat. His arm was wrapped snugly around the pirate’s waist, his hand resting on the flat plane of Hook’s stomach.

For one fleeting, awful moment, he considered leaving his arm there. Just a little longer. But no—no, that would be wrong. Was Hook uncomfortable with this? Did he do this all night? Fuck Is this weird? Of course, it’s weird. Did I just fucking curse in my head? He quickly shifted his arms away, careful not to wake the brunette.

“Morning Lioenel,” Charming croaked in his deep morning voice.

“Happy birthday, Christopher. I see you’ve gotten quite comfortable with your… friend there.”

“It was because of the magic string.”

“Ah, yes, the cupcake magic. Then why are you wearing that very specific shirt you made during Spell and Stitch class,” Lionel noted, his tone practically dripping with insinuation. “A curious choice for sleepwear.”

He looked down at the old, glorified rag of a shirt. He knew damn well it would be too tight and the fabric too flimsy for his build now, and he’d secretly hoped Hook might… notice. Damn, Lionel for being right.

“Don’t read into it,” Charming muttered, pushing past Lionel and towards his morning routine.

“Perish the thought, sir,” Lionel said, deadpan. “Though I must say, it does seem very convenient.”

Charming scowled as he put his running shoes on. “My only concern right now is trying not to lose my mind, at family breakfast.”

After his princely routine a grueling jog, some obligatory bench presses, and Lionel droning on about greeting cards from neighboring kingdoms.

The Prince found himself distracted. Every now and then, his thoughts wandered back to the pirate still sprawled out in his bed. He doubted Hook even knew how peaceful he looked when he wasn’t sneering or smirking or being Hook .

“Should I wake him up, sir?” Lionel asked, breaking into Charming’s reverie.

Charming hesitated, glancing back toward the bed. Hook was still there, one hand loosely gripping the sheets, his hair a complete mess. He looks cuddly, which was a word he never thought he’d associate with him.

“Nah,” Charming said finally, his voice quieter than before. “Let him sleep in for a little more. He looks like he needs it.”

“Ah,” Lionel said, the picture of mock solemnity. “You probably tired him out. Cuddling him all night. How was being the big spoon?” 

Charming nearly choked. “Nope, I’m not doing this.” He said as he grabbed his towel and escaped to the bathroom.

“I’ll see you at the palace, Sir,” Lionel said before heading out. “One last thing, don’t be late,”

Charming just glanced at the bathroom mirror, his chest tightening for reasons he didn’t want to name. “Happy birthday to me,” he muttered under his breath, dragging a hand through his hair.

Charming then started his shower musical. He’d been belting out tunes with abandon, knowing full well this was his last chance at solitude before his obligations descended like a royal army. 

By the time he emerged, a towel slung loosely around his hips, the steam swirling out behind him, he felt rejuvenated until he noticed the sun had risen and so had Hook, looking unusually alert.

Hook’s piercing eyes were fixed on him, though they lacked the typical dark smudges of eyeliner that usually made his glare extra sharp. Instead, he looked softer, more human, which was almost unsettling.

“Guess who finally woke up?” The dark haired teen asked, leaning casually against the doorframe, pretending his heart wasn’t pounding.

“Only because of your bloody singing,” Hook replied, his voice dry but laced with amusement. “You’ve got pipes, though. Bet you had singing lessons growing up.”

Charming ran a hand through his damp hair. “I did. Mandatory, not by choice.”

“Figures,” Hook said, inspecting his nails as if he wasn’t already planning his next jab. “Though you were a bit pitchy in the chorus. Add that to your ever-growing list of mistakes, right up there with your bear-hugging—”

Charming groaned, pushing off the doorframe. “I didn’t mean to do that. I swear—”

“Doesn’t matter,” Hook cut in with a gleam in his eye. “I mean, I get it. I am properly fit, but you don’t need to make excuses to get your hands all over me.”

“Oh, for the love of—” 

“Speaking of fit,” Hook cut him off, his gaze dropping just enough to make the prince self-conscious, “You’re quite the show off this morning. Did you workout?”

It took a second too long to realize what Hook was talking about. When it hit, his face turned beet red as he registered his current state of undress—nothing but a towel clinging dangerously low on his hips. He crossed his arms over his chest instinctively, trying to appear unaffected, but the heat crawling up his neck betrayed him.

Hook, predictably, looked delighted. “Don’t cover up on my account,” he teased, his grin wicked. “This is quality entertainment.”

“Can you not?”

“Come on, Princey. Don’t act like you’re shy. You’re the one who can’t keep your eyes off me half of the time.”

“Is that what you tell yourself to sleep at night?” 

“Nah,” Hook said with a wink. “I don’t need to. Knowing you’re think of me is enough.”

“We’re still meeting your folks, right?” Hook finally asked.

Charming nodded, grateful for the change in topic.

Hook finally got up, stretching leisurely as if the world itself moved at his pace. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll get ready at my place.” He glanced down at his empty wrist before fastening his hook on with practiced ease. “Pick me up.”

Then Hook bolted straight for the door.

“Wait,” Charming blurted, reaching for Hook’s hand before he realized he didn’t actually have anything to say.

“Make it quick, Princey. We don’t have all day,” Charming’s mouth opened, but his mind had gone blank. Hook’s gaze was too much. Too sharp yet somehow too warm, like he could see straight through him. It was the kind of look that they write songs about.

“Maybe…” Charming finally managed, his voice quieter now, “Maybe try buttoning up all your buttons this time. I’m not trying to change your style, but, you know…”

Hook tilted his head, smirking as he let the words hang. “Oh, you don’t like it when I do all of  that? Should I take more clothes off then maybe that’d make you happier?”

“Just…Try for me. For my sake and my parents”

Hook leaned in slightly, just enough to close the space between them. “Only if you promise to keep the towel.”

“James!”

As the door closed behind him, Charming knew this was only the beginning. He made a mental note to keep a spare shirt nearby next time—just in case.

👑 

The hallways were a blur of "Happy Birthday!" and enthusiastic waves, but Charming hardly acknowledged them as he skated past, focused on his destination. 

He was already bracing himself for whatever mood Hook might be in, but when he arrived at the pirate’s door, he was caught off guard.

For once, Hook was punctual. Not only that, but he looked… different. 

Gone were the flowy pirate blouses and loose button-ups that Charming had grown accustomed to. Instead, Hook wore a tailored white shirt that clung to his frame in all the right ways, tucked neatly into navy denim jeans that looked suspiciously new.

Charming hadn’t even realized Hook owned jeans; he'd always assumed the pirate was permanently ingrained in his dramatic, swashbuckling wardrobe. But no, Hook had denim. And it looked nice.

To top it off, Hook was wearing Charming’s varsity jacket.

The royal crest never looked so good. On Hook, It looked both completely out of place and yet ridiculously good at the same time.

When Hook spotted Charming skating toward him, those dark, kohl-rimmed eyes glinted with mischief. The look said more than words ever could: Caught you staring, Princey.

“You clean up pretty nice,” Charming managed, his voice a little tighter than he intended.

“And you wear the same outfit,” Hook shot back, his tone teasing. “I think I’ve seen a paper with you wearing that exact getup from head to toe.”

Charming winced slightly, glancing down at his brown barong shirt and black cargo pants. On second thought, maybe he should’ve worn something different for today. Something that didn’t feel so… predictable.

“You read the papers? The Asian prince asked, almost gasping. He straightened up and raised an eyebrow. “More importantly, what have you read about me?”

Hook didn’t bother replying, just gave him a look that practically screamed, Do you really want me to answer that?

Before Charming could press further, Hook shifted, plucking at the varsity jacket as though suddenly remembering he had it on. “Oh, and I thought I’d return this,” Hook said nonchalantly, starting to shrug out of the jacket. “I even got Morgs to do a quick laundry spell on it, so no need to complain—”

“No,” Charming interrupted quickly, stepping forward and stopping him mid-motion. “Keep it on.”

Hook paused, blinking in surprise. His eyebrows raised slightly, and for a brief moment, he almost looked unsure of himself. “If you say so,” He said lightly, settling the jacket back over his shoulders.

“It looks nice on you,” The Prince added, quieter this time, his gaze lingering a second too long before snapping back to the hallway.

“Let’s go,” Charming said, clearing his throat and rolling his board onto the ground. 

Normally, he’d let the pirate trail behind him something about making sure Hook understood who was leading but this time, he slowed his pace.

As Charming skated leisurely down the path, Hook walked alongside him, the rhythm of his steps keeping time with the quiet hum of the wheels. Neither of them said much, but the silence felt strangely comfortable.

🪝

The castle was a smug fucking thing, wasn’t it? All glinting spires and pristine stonework, like it had never seen a speck of dirt in its entire existence.

It made Hook itch. He swore he could feel the walls silently judging him as they arrived at the feet of the stairs.

This was not his world, and every fiber of his being was telling him to turn around before it was too late.

But then there was Charming, skating along like he had no cares in the world, the ridiculous good boy turned bad image fully intact. Well, it's time to tarnish that image a little.

“You ready?” Charming asked, hopping off his board with a practiced ease that Hook found entirely too irritating.

Hook tilted his head, trying for nonchalance. “And what about it? You nervous ‘bout lying to your parents?” His words dripped with his usual sarcasm, though his accent made “bout” sound more like a soft jab than a sneer.

“Is it bad if I say I’m actually nervous?”

“And here I thought you’d be an expert at it. I heard you were in a rebel without a cause stage, so I assumed you had lying in the bag.” 

“Just teenage rebellion tendencies,”

“Well, you’ve got nothing to be nervous about,” Hook said before taking a pause. “Your butler already thinks we’re damn near engaged. Playing a fiddle is as easy as your parents.”

“That doesn’t sound right,” Charming muttered, his voice breaking with a wave of nerves. Hook just responded with a shrug,

When they finally made it to the fucking top of the stairs. Hook looked at Charming with an unsure look, as a knot was starting to form in his chest. 

The grand entrance loomed ahead, its gilded doors polished. As the guards pushed the massive doors open, a wave of noise hit him.

Charming’s home, his very busy, very lavish home was alive. Maids whisked by with trays of what looked like champagne glasses (at this hour?), a butler directed a pair of footmen carrying an elaborate floral arrangement, and somewhere in the distance, the faint hum of a string quartet drifted through the air.

Charming greeted the staff with a practiced smile and steady politeness, his voice warm and cordial in that maddeningly princely way. Hook could almost see the mask sliding into place.

“So, this is where you grew up. Bit much, don’t you think?”

Charming glanced at him, distracted, but managed a half-hearted smile. “It’s home.”

“Home,” Hook repeated dryly, his gaze skimming over the chandeliers, the intricate crown moldings, and the floors that gleamed like they’d never known a speck of dust. “You’ve got a very different definition of the word.”

Charming, however, didn’t retort. Not even his usual speeches. Just plain silence. The life got sucked out of him, replaced with a stiffness Hook wasn’t used to seeing. It was… unsettling.

“What’s the matter? When did you learn to shut up?”

“Nothing is—” Charming stopped, shaking his head. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not,” Hook pressed. “If you were, you’d be a confident schmuck. But you’re not, and it’s throwing me off.”

Charming sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s just…my parents. They’ll have questions. They are a lot. And you’re…” He gestured vaguely at Hook, his cheeks flushing.

“I’m what?” Hook asked, narrowing his eyes. “Not a princess? A pirate? A little bit too dramatic?”

“I didn’t say anything.” Charming’s voice was tired. “It’s just… They’re not going to understand this. Us.”

“There is no us,” Hook reminded, his voice sharp but quieter than he intended. He glanced over his shoulder at the line of gawking staff before leaning in closer. “You wanted a fake date, and you got one. So pull yourself together, Your Highness, and stop bloody looking at me like you don’t want to be here.”

Charming didn’t respond, his jaw tightening as they approached another set of doors. 

Then a familiar figure stepped into their path: Lionel, the ever-watchful butler-slash-life coach-slash-unpaid babysitter of Prince Charming. His posture was immaculate, his expression a perfect blend of disapproval and exhaustion.

“Ah, Your Highness,” Lionel said smoothly, his gaze flicking between the two teens with just a hint of amusement. “How kind of you to finally grace us with your presence. Shall I tell the Queen you’ll join her for brunch after all?”

“Good to see you too, Lionel,” Hook drawled, his smirk too apparent.

“You might want to wipe that grin off your face, Mr. James Hook. Did you forget to prep him on manners?”

Charming shifted beside him, his shoulders visibly tensing. “Are you alright, Your Highness?”

“I’m fine,” The Prince replied quickly, too quickly.

“Look,” The pirate lowered his tone. “Let’s just get this over with. Sit, smile, nod. Do whatever it is you do at these things, and we’ll be out of here in no time.”

Lionel cleared his throat. “That might work for you, Mr. Hook, but His Highness doesn’t have the luxury of disappearing when things get uncomfortable. And he has a schedule to follow.”

“Cheers for the pep talk,” Hook muttered, rolling his eyes.

But Lionel wasn’t done. He turned to Charming. “Christopher, whatever’s bothering you, we’ll talk about it after breakfast. Just go in there and be you.”

Charming nodded, but the tension in his jaw didn’t ease. He glanced at Hook, his expression unreadable.

“Can you give us a minute Lionel?” Hook asked rather politely.

Lionel entered the dining hall not questioning anything. Hook on the other hand (hook) had a plan. He stepped close to Charming and pressed the golden metal on his hand against his cheek.

The prince froze, stared wide-eyed, and for a second, Hook wondered if he’d gone too far. But there was no turning back now.

“Get your act together, we can do this,” Hook whispered, his voice too soft for his liking. “You can squeeze my hand if you need me to come save you.”

Where the hell had that come from? The old him would have gagged at the idea of Charming touching him, let alone willingly offering himself up for emotional support.

But here he was, pitying the guy or at least that’s what he told himself. Definitely not because he was getting used to those big brown stupidly honest eyes or the way Charming looked at him like he wasn’t a total piece of ship.

Charming blinked, nodding stiffly as if he couldn’t believe what Hook had just said either. “Thanks,” he whispered, his voice nearly inaudible.

Hook stepped back, yanking his hand down before it betrayed him again. “Don’t mention it,” he muttered, turning back to the door. “Let’s just get this over with.” 

The dining hall was nothing short of obnoxiously, unnecessarily big. Who needed ceilings that high? Or light fixtures the size of boats? Hook barely stopped himself from gawking at the sheer excess of it all, his eyes narrowing at the four plates laid out: two for them and two for Charming’s parents. Thankfully, the royal couple wasn’t here yet. Thank the sea gods for small mercies.

Once the two were seated, Hook couldn’t help but notice the Prince next to him had all the life sucked out of him. Charming looked pale and was one lost breath away from falling apart. 

Hook blinked. Was he trembling? This wasn’t supposed to happen—if anyone should’ve been shitting themselves right now, it was Hook. 

“Hey, My Knight in Shining Armour, I thought my little pep talk worked” Hook muttered under his breath, stepping closer. 

Before he could say anything else, Charming grabbed his hand, fingers ice-cold and gripping far too tightly. Bloody hell. Hook glanced around, as though someone might burst in and see this very unprincely display of nerves. No one yet.

Hook sighed, squeezing Charming’s hand back, though his voice kept its edge. “You already squeezing my hand your parents aren't even here. Way to use this feature way too early.”

Charming shot him a glare that screamed not helping. Hook bit back a smirk.

There was one way to fix this. Time to put these genetics to good use. Hook took a purposeful scooched closer, so much so that Charming startled and blinked up at him. 

Hook tilted his head down and then looked up through his lashes, making sure his hair fell in just the right tousled way to frame his face. The piercing gaze he hit Charming with could’ve stopped time and space. 

He’d perfected this look in countless flirtationships, on countless nights in the mirror, but this was the first time it was actually for a prince.

Charming stilled. Completely. His hand went slack in Hook’s.

Hook smirked, satisfaction curling in his chest. “There there. Calm as a dead fish.”

Charming didn’t say anything for a moment, just stared back at Hook like he’d forgotten how to breathe. “I hate you,” he mumbled finally, though there wasn’t a shred of bite in his voice.

Hook grinned, releasing his hand with a flourish. “You’re welcome, Princey.”

They barely had time to share another word before the loud, booming voice of Lionel cut through the moment.

“ Their Majesties, King Maximilian and Queen Constantina! ”

Hook startled, snapping his head toward the doors just as they swung open. And there they were. The king strode in first, while the queen glided in behind him.

The Queen’s gaze immediately landed on Hook.

She gasped, clutching her pearls—literally. Hook resisted the urge to walk out. He’d been on the receiving end of many reactions in his life like horror, anger, and misplaced lust but this one? This was a uppity in a new level.

Hook forced himself to stand straighter, every muscle in his body tensed. It took every bit of restraint not tug on the jacket.

“Happy birthday, my precious Prince Christopher Rupert Windermere Vladimir Carl Alexander François Reginald Lancelot Herman Gregory James,” Queen Constantina said in one impossibly long breath.

Hook bit his tongue to stop the smirk that tugged at his lips. Someone was more dramatic than him, and it hurt.

“Good to see you too, Mom,” Charming muttered, clearly trying not to look too mortified.

Queen Constantina’s sharp eyes flicked back to Hook like she was zeroing in on prey. “And might you introduce this lovely individual sitting next to you?”

Hook coughed, already regretting agreeing to all this bullshit.

Charming plastered on the fakest smile Hook had ever seen on him all day. “This lovely individual is my partner, the one I was talking about. I'm bringing him to the ball” Charming rambled. “James Hook. Of Neverland. I think. And these are my parents.”

Hook shot him a what the hell look but nodded smoothly, “Lovely to meet you both,” he said, his accent extra posh. 

He stood up, offering his hand for a shake, despite the laughable distance between him and the royals.

Queen Constantina stared at his hand like he’d just offered her a live snake. Hook tried not to let his confidence crack, though he swore his smirk was starting to feel brittle.

King Maximilian, at least, gave him a polite nod, though his lips were twitching like he was trying to hold back a laugh.

The Queen didn’t sit immediately. Oh no. She glided down the table until she stood entirely too close to the pirate. Guess she and her son we’re experts at invading personal space.

“James Hook,” She said, the syllables of his name pronounced like an uncurerable disease. “Such an... interesting choice for company, Christopher. How come I’ve never heard of him before.”

Hook arched a brow, but Charming cut in swiftly, his voice tense. “I wanted to keep things private. Mom, please step back, you’re too close to him.”

Queen Constantina didn’t budge, her sharp gaze still roaming Hook like she was deciding whether to take him out back and hose him off. Instead, her eyes snagged on the royal varsity jacket draped over Hook’s shoulders.

“Oh, I’m just admiring the jacket. It looks so nice on him.” Her tone was saccharine, but Hook didn’t miss the undercurrent—like she couldn’t decide whether the jacket belonged on him or in a donation bin.

Hook cleared his throat, resisting the urge to tug at the lapel. Right, he thought bitterly. Wearing Princey’s clothes. Did not help win brownie points.

“Thanks, Mom,” Charming said a little too quickly. “I let him borrow it because he looked so good in it.”

Hook glanced sideways at Charming, just in time to see him flash an unconvincing grin. Hook rolled his eyes. Smooth fabricated retelling of a story that never happened .

“Honey, maybe step away from the boy,” King Maximilian added lightly, though his voice carried a hint of wariness, like he was trying to keep his wife from poking the bear too hard.

But before more could be said, attention quickly diverted to the table as servants swooped in to lay out the food.

Or well—attempted food.

Hook stared at the absurd portions placed before them. A single baby pancake perched at the center of Charming’s plate, flanked by eggs that looked like someone had taken a quarter of a quarter and called it a serving. 

Hook’s own plate held what appeared to be a microscopic sliver of toast and some “fruit”—and by fruit, he meant a single grape cut in half.

Oh. It all made sense now: Charming’s borderline torturous morning workout routines at the academy, all the extracurricular physical activities. 

Hook had always wondered if the boy was just some over-enthusiastic fitness freak, but no. Apparently, the Prince was on a diet .

“That explains why you eat like a bloody horse back at the academy,” Hook muttered with an amused smirk, spearing his miserable excuse for a piece of egg.

Charming snorted quietly into his glass of water.

Before Charming could reply, King Maximilian cleared his throat, his voice deep but easygoing. “So, Junior, how’s your day going so far?”

Charming perked up like someone had flipped a switch. “Going pretty amazing, ” he said brightly, though he squeezed Hook’s hand under the table like a lifeline. “I can’t tell you why, though.”

Hook shot him a look that said What’s that supposed to mean? Charming just grinned mysteriously.

The King chuckled, clearly entertained by the whole thing. “Oh? Keeping secrets already?”

Before Charming could answer, Queen Constantina took the conversational reins, her smile sugar-coated but still unnervingly sharp. “ I’m so curious—tell me, how did you two meet?”

The pirate teen stiffened. Charming’s hand snuck under the table, finding Hook’s in a silent plea for help. Hook barely refrained from rolling his eyes. Of course he had to answer.

He hadn’t exactly been focused when Charming droned on about their fabricated backstory yesterday, but he’d caught enough to make shit up.

“We’re schoolmates, Your Majesty,” Hook said smoothly, slipping into his most pleasing tone. 

“Your son’s quite the heartthrob, you know. Couldn’t go anywhere without people swooning over him.” He shot Charming a sly grin before continuing. “He fell for me—quite literally—when he was skateboarding. Crashed right into me, knocked us both flat. You could say he fell for me at first sight.”

King Maximilian barked out a laugh. “Accident-prone? Sounds like my boy.”

Queen Constantina’s smile stayed plastered in place, though her expression remained unreadable. “ Quite the story,” she replied, her voice a shade too light to be genuine. But she wasn’t done

“Forgive me if this is personal, James, but I must ask. How did you come to… acquire that?” She gestured vaguely at the hook. “Your hand, I mean.”

He’d been through this song and dance plenty of times before—curiosity wrapped in condescension, pity disguised as politeness. But it was the way she said it like it was a nuisance that hurt.

“A croc took it,” Hook replied casually, though his tone was clipped. “Big bastard. I survived, though, so I’d say I got the better end of the deal. It matches with my last name.”

Queen Constantina blinked, clearly unprepared for his bluntness. “Oh, how… harrowing. It must be such a challenge to—well, you know.”

Hook’s eyes narrowed, and the smile he shot her was anything but kind. “Past is past. Your Majesty. Doesn’t stop me from living my life, just going to school like a normal teenager.”

Charming’s voice cut in, sharper than before. “If you're asking me, I like the Hook.”

Hook blinked, startled. Charming’s words were sweet, but there was a protective edge to them that hadn’t been there before. He glanced sideways at the prince, who met his gaze with a resolute nod.

Queen Constantina seemed equally taken aback, her lips twitching. “Well, I suppose that’s what matters.”

“See, Constantina? This lad’s tougher than half the men in the kingdom.” King Maximilian leaned back in his chair, grinning. “I like him.”

Queen Constantina didn’t respond immediately. She turned her attention back to Charming, her voice dripping with maternal concern. “Well, I just hope you know what you’re doing, Christopher. I’m sure someone like Mr. Hook lives quite an adventurous lifestyle. I wouldn’t want you getting caught up.”

Hook’s jaw tightened, and before he could snap back with something cutting, Charming’s voice rang out, firm and clear.

“With all due respect, Mom, I can decide for myself what’s good for me. You said you wanted to meet my partner and here he is.”

The Queen stared at him, her smile frozen. Hook nearly choked on his shock. He must be dreaming. Did Princey just stand up for him?

“Oh, Constantina, let the boy have his fun. It’s his birthday, after all!” King Maximilian boomed, He turned his attention to Hook with a wide grin. “Now, any skateboarding story James? are you any good?”

“Oh, I don't your majesty. I’ve fought sea monsters, sailed ships but I have not skated any boards yet.” 

King Maximilian barked another laugh, slapping the table lightly. “And son no need to call me your majesty, Dad would do.”

“You don’t need to call him Dad if you don’t want to,” Charming whispered.

Hook snorted under his breath, but before anyone could comment, Queen Constantina leaned forward “So, James, tell me—are you the jealous type?”

Hook let out a short breathy chuckle, the question catching him off guard. “Jealous?”

“Well,” she said smoothly, her tone as sharp as the edge of a dagger. “It’s just that tonight, Christopher will have quite the lineup of dancing partners. It’s customary, you see. He’ll be dancing with a lot of suitress. Lovely ones.”

Hook froze, his grin flickering for half a second before he schooled his features into something resembling indifference. Charming stiffened beside him, his fork clattering lightly against his plate.

“Comes with the territory, doesn’t it?” Queen Constantina continued, voice cool. “I know it’s hard to understand but I’m sure Christopher can explain.”

There it was. A carefully veiled jab, one that Hook knew wasn’t just about the dancing. It crashed like waves on the shore.

Hook leaned back in his chair, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “No need to worry, Your Majesty. I’ve never been the possessive type. Can’t be jealous if I don’t bloody care.”  His tone was flippant as he tried his best to lie through his teeth. He was a pirate after all, being possessive came with the hat and the job description.

Charming shot him a look, somewhere between apologetic, hurt, and worried, but Hook didn’t meet his gaze. 

“Oh, good,” Queen Constantina said, her smile tightening. “Because Christopher has always been so popular. I’ve heard you're quite popular for things too.”

Hook gripped the edge of the table. He knew a loaded comment when he heard one. What made it sting more was that it wasn’t even the same old barbs, wrapped in prettier packaging. The message was clear: you don’t belong here.

And Hook was fucking sick of it.

The rest of the hour blurred into white noise. His thoughts high as in the stratosphere, checking out completely as the conversation droned on. The clinking of silverware, the hum of idle chatter, it all faded into a low buzz in his ears.

He sat there because he had to. Because this was what he’d come here for, wasn’t it? To shake things up. To cause a scene. He was a pirate at the royal table, and they’d never let him forget it.

Somewhere in that haze, he missed Queen Constantina’s voice softening as she glanced at Charming.

“I’m only looking out for you, Christopher,” she murmured. “And I’m sorry if I came off a bit… harsh earlier.”

Hook didn’t hear it. He didn’t hear any of it. His mind was already halfway out the door.

Finally, the longest hour of his life came to an end. Servants began clearing plates, and Hook decided he’d had enough. He pushed his chair back abruptly, the screech of wood against marble cutting through the room like a knife.

“Right. I think I’ve overstayed my welcome.” His voice was sharp and loud enough to draw everyone’s attention.

“James, what are you doing?”

But Hook didn’t care. He was already on his feet, shoving his hand and hook into the pockets of Charmings jacket. “Thanks for the breakfast, Your Majesties. It was a delight meeting both of you.” His words dripped with sarcasm, but his smirk was nowhere to be found.

“Charming, I can't do this . I’m sorry ” His voice was quieter this time, but no less sharp. And with that, he turned on his heel and strode out of the dining hall, not sparing a single glance back.

The heavy doors closed behind him with a resounding thud, and Hook let out a shaky breath.

He didn’t know where he was going, but he sure as hell wasn’t sticking around.

👑

Charming hesitated at the table, his fingers tapping nervously against his plate. His mother’s pointed questions and his father’s strained attempts to mediate played on a loop in his mind. 

He should stay, keep up appearances— But every second he spent sitting there while Hook stormed off felt like a weight crushing his chest. Finally, with a sharp inhale, Charming stood abruptly.

“Excuse me,” he said, his voice clipped and tight. He didn’t even glance at his parents.

“Christopher, where are you—”

“I’ll be back.” His tone carried enough edge to make even his mom pause. 

He strode toward the door, ignoring Lionel’s raised brow as he intercepted him in the hallway.

“Christopher, you have other obligations,” Lionel reminded him, ever the composed observer.

“They can wait,” Charming snapped, brushing past him.

“They can handle being late, right?” he added over his shoulder, more to himself than Lionel. He didn’t wait for a response as he hurried up the grand staircase.

Hook was at the top of the stairs, shoulders hunched and back turned, but before he could slip away, Charming reached out and grabbed his wrist—his left wrist.

The cold curve of the metal hook pressed against Charming’s palm, and Hook flinched like he’d been burned.

“You were good in there,” Charming said, trying for a grin but faltering. “You caused a scene, just like we planned.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

Charming wavered. “I mean... I thought you knew coming into this wasn’t going to be fun.”

Hook’s laugh was bitter, almost hollow. “I didn’t agree to any of this. I only went along with it because you caught me red-handed, remember?” His voice dropped. “Don’t act like I had a choice.”

Charming winced. “That’s not fair. I didn’t blackmail you—”

“But you didn’t exactly give me any fucking options, did you?” Hook interrupted, his voice rising.

“I don’t have much time, but I’ll see you later—”

“No, you won’t.” Hook’s voice cut through the air. “I meant what I said. I can’t do this anymore.” His words felt hollow, but the look in his eyes made them hit like a slap. 

Charming stepped closer, desperate now. “Hook, can we just talk about this? I thought you wouldn’t care what they said about you. You said it yourself—there’s no us.”

“But I didn’t know, okay?” Hook snapped, his voice cracking slightly. “I didn’t know it’d get to me.” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “I always cared. I just didn’t let it show. And it got to me because—”

“Because what?”

Hook shook his head again, jerking free of Charming’s grip. “Because nothing. It doesn’t matter.” He turned, starting down the stairs.

“James, wait up!” Charming called after him, following. “I need you.”

Hook froze for a moment but didn’t turn around. His voice, when he spoke, was low and brittle. “You don’t need me. You’ve known me for bloody a day and some hours.” 

The prince reached for him again. “James, please, let’s just—”

“No!” Hook snapped, taking a step back. “You don’t get it, do you? I let you see me— all of me. Dancing with you without the hook. You were wearing my clothes. Do you know how hard that was for me?” He let out a bitter laugh, blinking rapidly. “It’s too much. I can’t—I’m sorry.”

Hook’s voice cracked on the last word, and for a moment, Charming thought he saw tears glistening along with the dark brim of his eyes, but Hook turned too quickly for him to be sure.

“James…” 

“No.” Hook’s voice was sword-sharp, slicing through Charming’s protests. He didn’t turn around, but when he spoke again, his words came fast and furious, as though he’d been holding them in for too long.

“You’re not listening. You never do.” Hook finally spun around, his eyes full of hurt. “You walk around like the world bends to your fucking will because it always has. You’ve never had to fight for anything real, have you? You sit there playing the perfect prince while the rest of us—normal people—are fighting just to keep our heads above water!”

Charming tried to interrupt, but Hook’s voice only grew louder, angrier. “Do you know what it’s like to walk into a room and know— know —that you’ll never belong? That no matter what you say, or how hard you try, people like your mother will always look at me like I’m the dirt on their fucking shoes? And you—you brought me here! You put me in that room! And for what? To use me to make a point? To piss off your mummy and daddy because you’re too much of a coward to stand up to them yourself?”

“That’s not fair—” Charming started, his voice weak.

“Not fair?” Hook laughed, bitter and hollow. “You want to talk about fair? What’s fair about putting me through this circus act just so you can have your little rebellion? What’s fair about pretending like you care—like you actually see me—when all you care about is what I can do for you ? You don’t give a shit about me. I’m just a guy you’ll use and throw away when you’re done.”

“That’s not true,” Charming said, his voice cracking.

“Isn’t it?” Hook’s lips curled into a sneer. “Tell me this, Charming—when was the last time you actually thought about what I wanted? About how I felt? You didn’t. You don’t. Because that’s not who you are. You’re a spoiled, entitled asshole.”

Charming’s throat felt tight, his mind scrambling for something—anything—to say. But Hook didn’t give him the chance.

“I let you in,” Hook said, his voice breaking now, anger giving way to something raw and vulnerable. “I let you see parts of me I don’t show anyone. And you took it all, didn’t you? You took and took and took, and now I’m the one left standing here feeling like a fool. Well, congratulations, Your Highness. You win. I hope it was worth it.”

Hook stepped back, his chest heaving, tears shining in his eyes, though he quickly blinked them away.

“Happy fucking birthday, Christopher,” he spat, his voice dripping with venom. “Hope you enjoy it, because I’m done. I’m so done. ”

He turned and stormed down the stairs, his boots echoing against the marble. 

Charming watched him go, frozen in place, his mind racing and his heart pounding.

He ran a hand through his hair, his thoughts swirling in a mess of guilt and confusion. Hook’s words replayed in his head, each one a punch to the gut.

Happy fucking birthday.

Charming let out a shaky breath, his hand gripping the banister as he sank onto the stairs. 

He’d thought he had everything under control. He’d thought he could handle this. But now, sitting there alone, he realized just how wrong he’d been.

He was back to square one.

Charming was someohow even more screwed than before.

🪝

Notes:

Hope you enjoy the fic & Remember to give feedback!!! It is always appreciated. I am so sorry for making you read that.

[coolcattime]

Third Time's the Charm: Part 1/3 [Mianite Post Timeline Piece)

Characters: Captain Capsize, Lady Ianite, Lord Dianite

Relationship: Captain Capsize/Lady Ianite (onesided)

Additional Tags: Major Character Death, Major Character Undeath, Suffering, Imprisonment, Lethal Wound, Cruelty, Mocking, Self Confidence Issues, Possibly Unrequited Love

Part One 🥀 Part Two 🥀 Part Three

A03 Link

Dying is an odd sensation. Most people only experience such a feeling once, though the Realm of Mianite is home to more than one person who is an expectation to such rules. It’s no secret that Captain Capsize is one such expectation. She has always kept how exactly each felt a secret, but each of her revivals still stick in her mind, memories that won’t stiff despite all the ones she appears to have lost.

The two revivals where Capsize would die again, and the third where she wouldn’t.

Part One: I Can Hear Her Crying

The pain that spread through her neck was the worst Capsize had ever felt. It was odd. She couldn’t quite process why she was in such pain until she saw the grin on Furia’s face, saw his sword at the end of its swing blood-soaked with only one person it possibly could’ve struck. She reached for her neck, gripping the wound she found that was far larger than her hand. She could barely process what was happening as she stumbled back, her body collapsing under its own weight.

She was dying? No, that couldn’t be right. This couldn’t be her end. She… she hadn’t saved Ianite yet. She wasn’t done yet. She couldn’t be done yet. As she collapsed, she heard the yells and shouts around her, but none of it processed. As she fully collapsed, desperately trying to get back up but finding herself unable, she felt a pressure on her neck. Tom was staring down at her, the emotions she felt reflected back on his face. He was saying something, talking as he pressed down on her wound as if that would have any effect. His words felt like she was hearing them from underwater, not quite reaching her ears. The pressure was quickly fading, though Tom didn’t pause in trying to stop the blood loss. It was just that everything was fading, growing distant.

She was actually going to die. This was it. Her life, cut away in an instant. It felt wrong.

And then she was gone.

Gone for all of a few seconds before oblivion was ripped away from her. There was a very different pressure on her neck as she now stared into the eyes of Lord Dianite. Having all feeling suddenly returned to her after it had ripped away was not pleasant, made all the worse by the fact that she couldn’t breathe.

She struggled against his grip, trying to pry his hand from her neck as she tried to actually process what was happening. She died? No, that didn’t make sense. She was alive. Maybe not for long as the god was currently preventing her from breathing, but she couldn’t have been killed by Furia despite knowing that she had been. But she couldn’t actually put together how such a thing could’ve happened, her actual thoughts consumed by getting the hand off her neck. She wanted to live. She needed to live. If she was somehow alive, she was going to live. She was desperate despite the impossibility of prying away the god’s claws, taking any little breath she could and kicking and flailing as she was raised off the ground. It wasn’t realistic to fight against the strength of a god, but she’d be damned if she didn’t try.

Lord Dianite barely acknowledged the woman squirming in his grasp. She wasn’t going to die, and even if she did, he was in control now, he could bring her right back. What a happy accident this was for him. He listened into his prayer room, listening to Furia’s silly little declarations and the champion’s panic. Neither the guardian nor the champions knew what a prize he had been given by Furia attempting to prove his own strength. What a prize it was that they didn’t. After all, if the champions did know, they certainly wouldn’t allow the situation to stand. He waited for them to leave his temple, knowing the moment they did it would be over for the little pirate. And of course, they did. They had no idea they were leaving the woman they thought dead to her actual death.

Capsize had no idea how long it was before she was dropped to the ground, gasping for air. Breathing burned. She’d felt the pain before, a minor inconvenience when swimming, accidentally swallowing water and having to painfully choke for breath for a few moments. This pain, however, was not just catching her breath. It was at least a minute of painfully breathing as she recovered, though she had no idea if the pain was from just the fact she hadn’t been able to breathe, or due to whatever Furia had done to her neck. Had he actually sliced through it? How was she alive? Lord Dianite looked down at her, waiting for her to finish. What a gift he had been given. Sure, he would’ve preferred Sparklez, but having the precious little captain that his sister loved so much his possession, he could very much settle for that. He smiled when she finally finished coughing and forced herself onto her feet. She had confrontation and defiance on her tongue, only for a horrible, hollow dread to creep in as she noticed a shackle on her ankle, a chain running from it connecting her to the floor.

“What—” She tried to speak, to keep some appearance of strength in front of the god, but her throat burned, and her voice croaked into nothingness unexpectedly, causing her to burst into coughs again. Lord Dianite chuckled.

“Oh, I bet that stings. I really didn’t heal you very well,” He said, clearly taking pleasure in her struggle. He hadn’t particularly cared if he’d left her able to talk, but he was glad now that she could. Her being able to argue back would make this just a little more entertaining. Capsize reached up to her neck, realising her hands were no longer blood-covered despite there not having been a moment where it could’ve been cleaned. She didn’t see herself as particularly easily confused, at least she didn’t before she came to the champion’s ‘Realm of Mianite’, but she couldn’t make sense of what exactly had happened to her. The wound had closed, she could feel that much, but it hadn’t disappeared. It hurt to touch, but it wasn’t the open wound that left her dying on the floor. “Furia did a real number on you. Do you realise, little Captain, you were dead for a couple moments?”

“No, I couldn’t… And what? Are you gonna try and convince me that you’ve brought me back out of the goodness of your heart?” She spat at him, doing what she could to ignore the pain that speaking caused her and the confusion at the whole situation. She wasn’t going to look confused, not when he spoke to her with a tone like she was so far beneath him. She couldn’t stand the condescension that dripped through his words. Little Captain. Being called that bothered her more than she cared to admit, more than it should. An acknowledgement of her lack of importance. Acknowledgement? Why was that the word that came to mind? It shouldn’t be. It wasn’t true. She wasn’t unimportant. Sparklez hadn’t—None of this mattered! She needed to know what he had done to her, what he was planning to do to her. There was absolutely no reason that he should’ve been able to bring her back to life, only Ianite should be able to, so he must be lying, but for what gain? Dianite smiled a wide, unpleasant smile. She hadn’t realised. Of course she hadn’t, she hadn’t had a moment to process. That would make this all the more fun. He stepped closer to her, uncomfortably close. Capsize hated having to look up at him.

“No, nothing so noble, though I’m sure you already knew that. A question for you: do you know what happens when someone is killed in a god’s temple by said god’s follower?” He asked, speaking slowly as if he was explaining to a child. Or perhaps the world itself had slowed down as reality dawned on Capsize. She shook her head, backed away as every thought in her head was rushing to find any alternative explanation. This wasn’t reality. This wasn’t happening. Dianite chuckled at her reaction, making her panic grow all the more, as she knew damn well what his words meant. She tried to hold her composure, having very little success. Her world was falling apart before he spoke again to confirm his meaning, to grind any hope she had left into dust. “Furia made you a sacrifice. Your soul, your very being belongs to me.”

“No! No, I—! I don’t belong to anyone!” She yelled at him as she tried to figure out any explanation that meant his words weren’t true. She couldn’t have spent her whole life devoted to Ianite only to end up the bastard’s plaything because of a single moment. She couldn’t breathe again, her chest feeling unbelievably tight. This couldn’t be happening. Somehow, this wasn’t real. She must’ve been knocked into a nightmare somehow. No. No, she knew she was in reality that obviously, and terribly, this was real. But what did that matter? She had been chosen for the mission to save Ianite. She was not going to let anything stop her. She wasn’t going to let Lord Dianite have control over her life. She just needed to think, there was some solution to this. She looked up with as much determination as she could muster, mostly driven by spite. “And what? You’ve locked me up? I wait a few days and Ianite tells Sparklez where to find me, and the sacrifice doesn’t matter if I’m alive, does it?”

It would only matter upon death, she reminded herself, as long as they freed Ianite before she died again, the situation could be reversed. She didn’t particularly want to be rescued by Sparklez, but she’d bite back her dislike of the man in this situation, she wasn’t irrational. The heat of the Nether was already bothering her, she didn’t particularly want to be stuck in it for multiple days, but she could hold out. She knew she could last long enough for Ianite to get a message through for the others to come and find her. Dianite had to admit, he admired her optimism. She had never faulted in her loyalty to his sister, even when she was replaced by Sparklez. That was the very reason he'd decided to bring her back for the time being. He was curious if this could actually make her snap. Her dying, her soul belonging to him, he knew both would’ve hurt his sister more than enough. But he couldn’t help it, he needed to see what her precious little captain losing faith would do to her.

“Oh, I’m sure you could survive a few days. You’re only under my temple you know, I’m sure if Sparklez was told he could come running and be here in less than an hour if he really tried,” He began to circle her, unsurprised that she didn’t turn to keep looking at him. She could, if she wanted, the chain wasn’t short enough to be that prohibitive to movement, but she was stubborn. She wasn’t playing whatever game he was playing. She stood her ground. She quickly regretted her decision as Dianite tugged her backwards. He’d grabbed her hair, claws digging into her scalp as she was forced to look up at him. She resisted struggling only because she knew he wanted her too. He wanted an excuse to make the experience even worse than it currently was for her. She scowled, staring with burning eyes at the god that she hated. The god smiled. “But, unfortunately for that idea, they’re all leaving. Setting sail as quickly as possible to that ruined little island you call home. So, you’d need to survive not only the days it’ll take for my sister to slowly build up strength to talk to Sparklez, but all the days it’ll take for him to sail back.”

He smiled widely as her eyes widened, riddled with absolute horror. Every fibre of her being wanted to scream, but she found herself completely unable to make noise at all. This couldn’t be real. There had to be some way of this. She couldn’t just be waiting to die. She was meant to live. She was meant to save Ianite. She wasn’t done yet. Her thoughts were screaming, telling her to kick and scream and fight until this wasn’t reality, but her actual body felt lifeless and defeated as the devil loomed over her, chuckling darkly. And why wouldn’t he be laughing? Even if he lost in the end, he would be satisfied in the knowledge that he had taken away his sister’s precious messenger from her.

He tossed the woman to the ground, curious about how long she would last. She’d always been stubborn, had a certain determination that made her a problem. He’d enjoy watching her struggle and fade away. After all, it was a shame that she had originally been snuffed out in just a couple of moments.

“Have fun, little Captain. I imagine these will be your last few days, it would be terrible if you didn’t enjoy them,” And with those words, Lord Dianite disappeared.

Capsize was left utterly alone. Alone in a room formed completely of nether bricks. No door, no direction to tell where the easiest escape route would be. She wasn’t getting out of here by herself, even if she wasn’t chained to the floor. She was already far too warm. There was a biting fear riding up and tightening her throat. She couldn’t—she couldn’t die here like this! She took her coat off, throwing it into a far corner out of where the chain would allow her to reach. Eventually she’d get so hot that she’d become cold, she couldn’t let her coat be in reach when that happened. She stared at the shackle, at the chain connected to it. It barely felt real. She tugged at it.

Nothing happened. Of course nothing happened, it was a heavy metal chain, she wasn’t going to be able to break it with her hands. She didn’t stop trying, though. She tugged, pulled, kicked, doing anything physically possible that could have any kind of effect on the chain.

And nothing happened.

She realised she was breathing too fast, each breath burning in her throat, but she couldn’t slow it down. There was nothing her mind could grip too. Nothing here was safe or comforting. Even if she tried to focus, she wasn’t going to be safe. All there was, was her quickly tightening chest, a completely empty room, and the absolutely terrible heat. Breathing was beginning to hurt again. Was that because of the speed at which she was breathing, or the heat of the air rushing in and out of her lungs? Why was this happening to her? Had she done something to deserve this? Was this a punishment?

“Capsize! Capsize, breathe with me!” Ianite’s voice filled her head, alongside what sounded like calm breathing. Ianite didn’t need to breathe, and it felt overwhelming to have the sound of another breathing suddenly in her head, but Capsize followed them, nonetheless. She wished there was something more physically, even just a hand on her shoulder so she didn’t feel so dreadfully alone. Such a comfort wasn’t going to come. She was alone. That wasn’t going to change. When she finally got her breathing under control, she ended up sitting with her knees pressing into her chest. She felt pathetic. She should be fighting, doing anything she could to escape, but there was a certain numbness to her thoughts. She couldn’t escape this situation by herself. No one was going to find her before it was too late. It felt clear in her head that she was not leaving this room, but she hated how quickly she had allowed defeat to sink into her thoughts, especially as she could hear the panic and worry in Ianite’s words. “Capsize, are you--? I lost track of you for a few moments… I thought I might’ve… Did he hurt you? What did my brother do to you?”

“Furia killed me. I died in the prayer room,” Her voice was weak. She ran her hand across her neck, wondering what the scar she had surely been left with looked like. She’d never get to see it. There was a sharp intake of breath from Ianite, followed by quiet muttering that she wasn’t really listening to. Ianite clearly knew what it meant, that Dianite had taken something that they were in no position to take back. She hated hearing her in distress. It felt so much worse than the frustrations she’d been hearing for the past few weeks. She longed for the frustrations, for the goddess to be begging her to give Sparklez a chance. At least that hadn’t come with the knowledge of her own impending death. “Dianite revived me, locked me up under his temple. Think his plan is to wait for me to die again.”

“No… no!” It was clear that Ianite wanted to say more, she needed to figure out a way out of this situation where Capsize didn’t die. Capsize herself wondered if she was missing something. Maybe she was just pessimistic at this particular moment, but she felt pretty stuck in this situation. It wasn’t as if she was happy about it, frankly she was terrified what dying while her soul belonged to Lord Dianite meant. Was her afterlife going to be robbed from her? It was a sickening thought that invaded her mind. She barely managed to keep her composure that she desperately wanted to keep a hold of. She didn’t need to be calm. There wasn’t a soul in the realm that would judge her for breaking in this situation, but she almost felt the need to be some kind of comforting calm force for the goddess. “I’ll build my strength, tell Jordan where you are. He’ll save you. I know he will.”

“He’ll try, but I’m told the Champions and Skipper are headed to Ianerea. He won’t make it in time. Don’t waste your strength,” She hoped her own fear wasn’t betrayed by her tone. She knew that she was giving up. She didn’t want to, obviously she didn’t want to die, but what she wanted even less was for her brother to find out she’d died twice. Redbeard was stronger than anyone back home had given him credit for, stronger than he gave himself credit for, and probably stronger than she gave him credit for. But she knew, no one was prepared to find their sibling’s corpse, let alone see that they died for a second time. If the situation was reversed, if she found out that she’d accidently left him to this fate, it’d break her. She didn’t want him to suffer like that, not when he was surely already hurting.

“It wouldn’t be a waste! You’re my friend, I am not just going to let you die!” There was a choked sob from Ianite. Capsize felt ashamed. Mostly from the shameful numb pang she had from hearing the goddess refer to her as a friend. She should appreciate the title and the friendship that she had, but nothing was ever good enough for her, and she quietly resented herself for it. She felt even worse that she’d made her goddess cry. So, she tried, she really tried to think of some way anyone could arrive in time to find her alive. And, a clear obvious name appeared in her mind, a tiny burning ember of hope.

“Fox…”

“Firefox?”

“She didn’t come with us. I doubt the others would’ve gone to get her before leaving. If you can tell her where I am, I think there’s a chance she gets here in time,” She didn’t want to put faith in her own words. It’d only hurt more if she let herself believe there was a chance that she’d survive, but she hated the idea of disappointing Ianite. Hopefully Fox would forgive her if she ended up finding her corpse.

“Yes! Okay… okay! I’ll contact Mianite. I… I do not know how long it will take me to build up strength, but I promise Capsize, I am not going to let you die,” She spoke with the same determination as Capsize had about saving her. It was not enough to make the pirate optimistic, another thing she felt unendingly guilty about. Ianite was going to waste her precious strength trying to save her. It was the exact opposite of what was meant to be happening, but even worse, there was a certain happiness within her knowing that Ianite cared enough about her to try and save her. A happy feeling that she wanted to cling to in this terrible moment, but she felt so utterly guilty for doing so. “Please just don’t give up. I will find a way to help you, I promise.”

“I… I believe you, Ia,” She hoped that her voice being so weak wasn’t giving away the fact that she was lying. She considered apologising for the fact that the goddess had to waste any of her strength on her, but she didn’t want to cause any more upset. So, instead she came up with different words. “And thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me Capsize, I… Please pray if you need anything, even just to talk. You know that I am always here for you,” With those words, there was a change in the air that Capsize knew meant Ianite had left her alone. Now it was just her, her thoughts, and the burning Nether heat that she knew was going to kill her.

She could believe in Ianite. That belief was set into her very being. Even in this, the absolute worst of times, she did believe in her goddess. She could believe in Fox. The lass was as good as any of the champions, even if she didn’t get the credit she deserved. There were certainly worse people she could be relying on for the physical act of saving her. She could even believe in herself. She could be stubborn enough to survive for the days it’d take for Ianite to have the strength to speak with her brother. Lord Mianite, though? The god whose own loyal champions admitted to seeing as an absent deity? She’d trust Sparklez before she trusted him.

She was sure this was the end for her. That fact was a lot more painful to admit than she wanted it to be. She was never going to save Ianite, never see her in person again. And worse, she had no idea if she even wanted the others to know of her actual fate.

Redbeard would end up blaming himself. She knew he would, she’d blame herself if this had happened to him. This second death had to stay a secret from him. Maybe when it became clear she wasn’t going to be rescued in time, she’d be able to talk Ianite into keeping this a secret, to keep the others from losing morale. Better they all think she died to Furia’s blade than realising that she suffered. Even Sparklez didn’t deserve that kind of guilt. But was she really going to be able to talk Ianite out of any futile attempts to rescue her?

She sighed at her own thoughts, and kicked the chain connected to her ankle. This was it, the infamous Captain Capsize reduced to a prisoner waiting for death. Someone only pretending to have hope because she couldn’t stand her goddess sounding sad. She felt pathetic. She was an absolute failure. With no energy left, and no ability to do anything else anyway, Capsize curled up on the floor, and began to cry.

[geekygaydude2point0]

I’m gonna need som enemies to lovers based on this. Please and thank you!