#cured Baelfire

[swanfireprincessmydear]

Timing is a Bitch

Jade Prince and Danny Wheeler have had a crush on each other for as long as they can remember. After years of pining for one another, they finally agree to go on a date. Their first date seems to go perfectly - but timing is a real bitch.

(Pan’s Curse AU).

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Smut! And an abundance of awkwardness and bad bad timing.

Hey… so THIS is the one where I said it was the WORST idea ever and no one’s going to like it other than me. You have been warned.

I also haven’t really spent much time editing it (oops) so it may be that this gets re-uploaded at a later date.

[antihero-writings]

Lucid Remembrance

Fandom: Once Upon a Time

Summary: "You're so worried about you. You know what I've dealt with? Every night for more years than you could know... the last thing I see before sleep is the image of you—You and me over that pit, your hand... wrapped around mine. And then you open your grip. And as I fall away, all I can see is your face. Choosing all...this...crap over me. Letting me go." The first night's always the worst. (Written for Tale Foundry's prompt "The Monster of Your Stories.")

Baelfire lie beneath a tree, hugging his cloak tighter around himself, feeling cold, and hungry, and lost. He shut his eyes, trying not to shiver, trying to fall asleep.

The stars were different here.

The leaves barely protected him from the rain…but, for now at least, it was better than being in that village. It was too loud, and too bright, and too strange.

He thought, without magic, this world would be simpler, gentler. But this world was too much. Too much to bear.

Too much to bear…alone.

If he’d had his father with him, he thought he could handle all the loud noises, bright lights, and strangeness.

But he didn’t.

So he couldn’t.

His father was the entire reason he came here. This world was supposed to be a cure for the disease of magic. A rescue from the monster inside his heart. Here, Papa could be himself again.

Here, Bae was cast away into a strange, callous land without magic. Alone.

His father chose to stay sick, and captive, and a stranger.

A hand wrapped around his, tight. The portal pulled on him, weighing him down like rocks tied to his feet.

His papa wouldn’t let him fall. Not alone. They had a deal. He promised they would fall together.

But…his father’s other hand gripped this world equally tightly.

Papa looked at him.

And the look in his eyes…

Bae knew in that moment.

He was going to fall.

Papa was choosing magic. Choosing darkness. Choosing pain. Over him.

Rumplestiltskin. The coward who ran. The Dark One who gained power to save his son.

Only to save his son.

Right?

The monster, who never broke a deal. And killed you if you tried.

After everything. After gaining this magic to save him. After he promised. He was choosing magic.

For so long the people in his village called his father a coward. Bae was certain they were wrong. That they didn’t have the full story.

Now?

Pain swirled in him, pulling him down with far more force than any magic.

“YOU COWARD!” Those words he’d fought so hard to disprove wrenched their way out of his mouth now. “YOU PROMISED!” His young voice cracked and broke, like a sturdy tower falling to ruins. “DON’T BREAK OUR DEAL!”

His eyes…gods, the look in his eyes.

His eyes said, lamentable though it was...he would give it all up.

“I have to!” Soft went the words. Soft and yellow.

And Papa’s fingers. They loosened.

Just slightly.

And Bae

slipped.

And the world

fell away. 

He wasn’t sure he fell asleep at all, but he shot up, breathing heavily, heart hammering, his clothes clinging to him—with sweat or rain, he wasn’t sure anymore.

He always thought his father was a little messed up, a little misled. Maybe a lot. But he was still his father, and could still be saved. He could still be the good man he was before. If he could just get away from magic.

Now…an angry thing curled its way into his chest.

All those stories. All those rumors. All those words he thought were lies, and half-truths, and fearful wonderings. All those stories about how his father was a monster.

When Bae sat for dinner with his father—and Papa was gentle and kind—Baelfire had always been sure the stories weren’t true. That dagger hadn’t stolen his heart completely. When his papa kissed him goodnight, he did not see a monster. Deep inside, he knew he was a good man.

At least, he was once. He could be again.

Now?

He was starting to think he was every bit as horrible as the stories said.

******

Rumplestiltskin walked into his house, reflex sending a word rising to his lips, before reality killed it.

A word. A name.

What’s in a name, anyways?

The house was so quiet.

Nothing here but a few pots and pans, and beds, and tattered curtains.

Once he came home to a wife. More than once he came home to a son. A family. Him, and Milah, and Bae.

Now, it was just him.

Everything was taken from him.

No. More like he gave it away.

Wasn’t brave enough to fight for her.

Wasn’t brave enough to jump with him.

It didn’t feel like home anymore. Not now that he had nothing to come home to.

He tried not to look at the other bed as he passed by.

He looked at the other bed as he passed by.

Something irrational in his mind told him he’d find a boy lying there. Blinking sleep from his eyes, saying he could stay up a little longer. That he’d kiss him goodnight, and he’d say he was sorry, and they’d go about their days, their lives, as they always had. Not perfect, but happy, at least. Together.

Just empty sheets.

He swept past the bed, and went about preparing dinner for himself.

No one else.

Not even a maid to help. Not anymore.

Blood on his shoes.

“She was mute! She couldn't tell anyone!”

(Maybe he did go too far.)

No one to talk to. No one to laugh with. No one to kiss goodnight.

No one to remind him he was more than just a coward, or a monster.

“YOU COWARD!” 

The plate fell to the floor and shattered.

He didn’t bother cleaning it up.

Food tasted like ashes anyways.

Funny how emptiness can be alive; every second that passed, the emptiness of the place crawled deeper into his heart.

Sometimes he wondered if it would be easier to just take it out.

He tucked in for sleep too soon, and turned away from the other bed, shutting his eyes tighter than he needed to.

No one to whom to say goodnight.

A swirling of light. A whirlpool of pure magic, dragging him to a world without.

He didn’t want to drown.

He looked at his son, so small and so beautiful, and so worthy of every affection. Longing and fear warred in Bae’s eyes.

Could Rumplestiltskin walk onto the battlefield and make the fighting stop?

Or would he take a mallet to the leg and hobble his way home?

In that moment they both knew.

“YOU COWARD!” His son’s voice. The words Rumplestiltskin had fought so hard to keep Bae from believing rended the air now, louder than the portal’s cries. “YOU PROMISED!” Gods, his voice. It was the sound of something irreplaceable breaking. “DON’T BREAK OUR DEAL!”

Something cold and sharp went through his heart at that.

How could he refuse him? He had made a deal. He couldn’t go back on it now.

But, what Bae asked of him…it was too much. Too much to bear.

Even together.

How could he leave all this behind? His entire world and everything in it? For a world without magic, where he’d be no one, nothing. Not the Dark One. Not the man who stopped the war. Not the imp who never broke a deal. Not the monster who’d tear your heart out for a minor insult. Just a man. Just a coward who ran. Just a sniveling wretch who couldn’t save his wife, or his son.

“I have to!” The words came out twisted and tiny, but certain.

Ever so slightly,

he released his grip.

The moment he did, the feeling of his son—his treasure, the only person left to love him—slipping through his fingers was like the sands of time running too fast, and the sight of the portal closing was worse than if someone had stabbed him in the chest with that dagger. The one with his name on it.

He wasn’t certain he actually fell asleep, but he shot up, breathing heavily, sweat sticking to him. It was somehow worse with the Dark One’s corrupted skin.

Or maybe he was just reminded that he had it, stronger than yesterday.

Yesterday, he’d still felt human.

He thought the emptiness was a creeping, clawed thing. That was nothing to the regret breathing fetid air down his neck now.

He knew the rumors. The stories.

The Dark One. The villain. The monster.

(Better than a coward.)

(Oh but you’re still a coward. Your son said so.)

But he wasn’t a monster. He was just a father trying to do what was best for his son.

Right?

And…he gave it all up.

Magic has a price. And keeping magic…had cost him the one he loved most.

“There is no escaping it. You will have a son, and your actions will leave him fatherless.”

The memory was a poisoned arrow.

Back then, he’d thought he was going to die. He’d thought he could escape his fate. He ran to save his life, to save his son's future.

And, in saving his own life, he’d condemned his son's future.

The future has a wicked sense of humor.

He’d thought he would die to the ogres, then. Now, he couldn’t die. To anything. Anything but his own name.

He wasn’t sure which fate was better.

He sat up, running his hands over his face. He wasn't sure what he planned to do, but anything was better than laying in bed with his thoughts, and no one to talk to.

There was that butcher in the village who hadn’t delivered on his promise just yet. Maybe he could give him a little encouragement—

“Papa, you’re getting worse.” 

Or…maybe not.

It wasn’t what Bae would want, at least.

'It wasn't what Bae would want'? No. He shouldn’t think of him like that; like one might think of the dead.

The word gripped at his heart. What if he was? Would this world without magic be the end of him?

No. He couldn’t believe that.

He would see him again.

There were no other options. He would make sure of it.

Standing up, he thought of what he could do to take his mind off it: take a walk, or read a book, or—

He didn’t make it past the other bed, slumping on the edge. Sitting there, like he used to when—

“Tell me a story, Papa. I can’t sleep.”

The grimace tugged at his lip. Or maybe something more.

Would he ever hear his voice again?

“Are you really that unhappy, Bae? I conjure anything you desire. Name it. What do you want?”

“I want my father.”

“All I want is your happiness, Bae. If you find a way, I'll do it.”

“Good. The deal is struck.”

He could still feel his hand, firm and hopeful, and too small.

He’d made a deal. And, all the while…he’d thought Bae would never find a way.

Rumplestiltskin. The imp who never broke a deal.

Except one.

He fell into the cold sheets, clutching at the blankets, trying to hold onto anything that smelled like Bae.

And he knew. He knew he was every bit the monster they said he was.

“I’m so sorry, Bae,” he sobbed with every last bit of humanity in him. “I want to come with you. I want to come with you. I want to come with you.”

[justanoutlawfic]

Swanfire Month Day 14 | “Classic fairy-tale that reminds you of Swanfire"

Sleeping Beauty AU

“I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream…”

The birth of Princess Emma excited the kingdom far and wide. The day of her christening was a joyous event...until it was crashed by the Evil Queen. Regina declared a curse on the kingdom, putting them to sleep once and for all. Queen Snow and her prince consort David thought quickly, sending Emma away with three fairy godmothers: Tinkerbell, Nova and Blue. The kingdom is cursed and the Queen believes the baby passed away.

Emma is raised in the forest with no knowledge of her heritage. Nova and Tinkerbell always wanted to tell her, but Blue insisted it wasn't a smart idea. Emma lives a very sheltered life, unable to leave the confides of the forest. She spends her days picking flowers, writing poetry and painting. Every night, she dreams of a mysterious prince that comes and saves her from this dreary life.

18 years later, a neighboring kingdom is ruled by a ruthless king who killed anyone that merely looked at his son the wrong way. Tired of watching his father go on a downward spiral, Prince Baelfire runs away in search of a cure for his darkness.

One day, the two have a chance encounter in the meadow. Sparks fly rather quickly and a romance develops between the two. She agrees to help him find a cure for his father. Once Blue catches wind of this, she tells Baelfire to run away and never come back, claiming Emma will be in great danger if she leaves the forest. He listens and vanishes into the night. Tinkerbell, fed up with Blue's deceptions, tells Emma the truth about everything.

Emma disregards everything she was ever told and escapes the forest in hopes of finding Baelfire. She comes across her kingdom. The Queen is quick to notice and sets out kill Emma once and for all.. What she doesn't account for is Baelfire changing his mind and turning back to find Emma. His horse tracks her down to the kingdom. He finds a spinning wheel and brought back to the good days of his father's hobby, Baelfire fondly touches it and slips into a sleeping curse.

After defeating the Evil Queen disguised as a dragon, Emma finds Baelfire's lifeless body. Remembering the stories Tinkerbell told her of True Love, she kisses him. It breaks not only the curse on her kingdom but the one that overtakes his father. The prince and princess are reunited with their respective families.

2 years later, Emma and Baelfire are married in a lovely ceremony.

[teaespensonawards]

Our 2022 T.E.A. Winners!

I would like to thank everyone who participated in the Rumbelle fandom on tumblr over the past year. In the past ten years! Holy crap, ten years. 

Thank you to all of the fanwork creators, every damn one of you. Thank you to the people who read and enjoy art, especially those who leave encouraging comments for creators. 

All right, that said, how would y’all like to see this year’s winners?

2022 T.E.A. Winners

Fluff

FAMILY

A Moment’s Peace and Quiet, by @shadowedoracle​

BEST CHILD FIC

The Hunt for the Green Unicorn, by @woodelf68​

Smut

KINK

Presents, by @kelyon​

COMEDY

Silver Tongue, by @thestraggletag​

THREESOME

Trinity, by @deliriumsdelight7​

BEST FIRST TIME

A Change of Seasons, by @deliriumsdelight7​

BDSM

Begging on His Bended Knees, by @kelyon​

Angst

WHY?

Jupiter’s Water, by @deliriumsdelight7​

HURTS SO GOOD

Evening, by @peacehopeandrats​

Romance

BEST COURTSHIP

Tattercloak, by @deliriumsdelight7​

BEST FIRST MEETING

Her Angel, by @kelyon​

General Awards

BEST ONE-SHOT

Covet the Dark Within, by @comradegiddybiscuit​

BEST COMEDY FIC

Mr. September, by @thatravenclawbitch​

BEST MOVIE AU

Fortis Fortuna Adiuvat, by @deliriumsdelight7​

BEST TV SHOW AU

Tattercloak, by @deliriumsdelight7​

BEST AU INSPIRED BY OTHER MEDIA

Jupiter’s Water, by @deliriumsdelight7​

BEST HISTORICAL AU

Pompeii: Burn for You, by @reolf​

BEST SERIES

Rumbelle Me a Story, by @peacehopeandrats​

BEST NOVEL LENGTH FIC

Disparate Pathways, by @eirian-houpe​

BEST REMIX

Disparate Pathways, by @eirian-houpe​

BEST DARK CASTLE

Presents, by @kelyon​

Special Categories

BEST GOLDEN LACE

Keeping Up Appearances, by @comradegiddybiscuit​

BEST RUMBELLE POLY SHIP

Trinity, by @deliriumsdelight7​

BEST SUPERNATURAL

One of the Others, by @mareyshelley​

BEST HORROR

Darkness Falls on Hyperion Heights, by @eirian-houpe​

BEST CREATURE AU

Goldzilla AU, by @phoenixfeatherquill​

BEST DARK ONE LORE FIC

Covet the Dark Within, by @comradegiddybiscuit​

BEST TROPE

Brought to You by the Color Blue, by @eirian-houpe​

BEST PANDEMIC/QUARANTINE FIC

Virtual Session, by @thestraggletag​

Events

RSS

Mr. September, by @thatravenclawbitch​

Character Awards

BEST SPINNER!RUMPLE

Her Angel, by @kelyon​

BEST WOOBIE!RUMPLE

Begging on His Bended Knees, by @kelyon​

BEST BAELFIRE/NEAL

A Rose in Winter, by @emospritelet​

Art

BEST FAN ART

Neverland Kiss, by @milaeryn​

BEST FLUFF ART

Just One More Kiss, by @milaeryn​

BEST ARTIST

@virgidearie​

BEST NEW ARTIST

@milaeryn​

Best Overalls

BEST AUTHOR

@deliriumsdelight7​

BEST ANYELLE FIC

Finding a Cure, by @deliriumsdelight7​

LIFETIME ACHIEVEMENT

Awarded to a person who has done something spectacular in the fandom. Either by making people feel welcome, organizing events, or simply embodying the Rumbelle fandom as a whole.

Congratulations to @thatravenclawbitch for being such a beloved contributor to the fandom! <3

NEWBIE SPOTLIGHT

@milaeryn @comradegiddybiscuit @mellkat1986

Welcome, new Rumbellers, to our delightfully and spectacularly filthy little corner of the fandom!!

[martianbugsbunny]

OUAT Thoughts Pt.25--Episodes 8-9

I have watched through S3E9; spoilers DNI. Also, spoiler warning for anyone further behind than I am.

—HOLY SH*T PETER PAN IS RUMPLESTILTSKIN’S FATHER?!??!?!?!?!!!!!

—So, Rumplestiltskin’s father didn’t just abandon him, he yeeted him into another realm. Way to understate the facts, Rump.

—In the span of two episodes, I got to see straight-up Rumplestiltskin and Mr. Gold. And Mr. Gold was wearing a particularly *fine* double-breasted suit.

—And Dr. Hopper! And not only that, Dr. Hopper talking about his dog, and wearing a scarf, and carrying his iconic umbrella, and being all psychological, and smiling, and…well, I could go on forever. And even better, we’re going back to Storybrooke, so I might get to see him more regularly!

—Baby Henry was so chubby!

—It kinda sucks that if Rump didn’t have a potential cure for David, they probably never would’ve let him out of Pandora’s Box. Although, if they bothered taking the Box back to Storybrooke in that scenario, I’m sure Belle would’ve convinced them to release him eventually.

—It’s also very Rump to immediately investigate the poison that almost killed him. And of course a guy as smart as he is could come up with a cure.

—Skull Rock looks pretty cool. The skulls inside were a nice touch, particularly the gold ones.

—I’m no expert, but it feels like more of the Lost Boys besides Jimmy (idk what his actual name is) should’ve stuck with Peter, especially when he had Henry’s heart. These kids have been held in Neverland for possibly centuries, and they’re basically brainwashed. It seems unrealistic that there would only be one Lost Boy to stick with Peter the way Jimmy did. Maybe when they all get to Storybrooke, Peter will start recruiting them again.

—He’s been playing a pretty long game here. Having the Darlings show up at the adoption center was unexpected.

—I knew something bad was going to happen. I assumed it would involve David or Rump, but half right isn’t terrible. Everybody was happy, of course there had to be a twist. (I’m not discounting the idea of something bad happening to David yet.)

—I almost expected Hook to end up dead. It would’ve been interesting if he died, and Baelfire had to pilot the Jolly Roger home, but don’t get me wrong, I’m very glad that Hook is alright.

—I’m also happy that Bae and Rump seem to be getting on better. Once the happiness of nobody having died (yet) wears off, they might revert to being all prickly with each other, but for now a hug is enough.

—And the trust! Yes, Regina, Emma, and Bae went chasing after Rump as soon as they could, but Bae trusted him enough to send him in for Henry on his own in the first place. That’s a pretty significant step.

—I love that Wendy told Tink she believed in her. I’ve always hated their dynamic in the original story, because A) it’s stupid, and B) Peter Pan so isn’t worth it. But if they were going to get a single interaction in OUAT, I’m very pleased it was such a nice one.

—I hope the Blue Fairy gets the stick out of her butt and helps Tink get back into the fairy club. Frankly, the Blue Fairy is a bit of a pill; as a person, I can’t stand her.

—I adore that Regina’s superpower at this point is being evil. That’s hilarious.

—Also, somebody is the special effects department really fell in love with the fireball effect this season, didn’t they. Regina almost never does magic without one, and even Rump has summoned a fireball or two.

—Okay, even if Regina and Emma blocked out the light from the moon, there were other lights around them. It’s impossible that their shadows would be completely obliterated.

—Speaking of shadows, Peter’s shadow being a preexisting entity is an interesting take. I should like to know more about it, because there’s no way these writer just threw that out there with no plans for an origin story.

—Still speaking of shadows, Rump’s is still running around out there. As is his magical dagger. That’s going to be a problem, I can feel it in my jellies.

—I’m extremely relieved and proud that Rump did the right thing. It wouldn’t have been in character for him to kill Henry now, but I was worried it would happen anyway (for the DRAMA). But not only did he not hurt Henry, he also tried to contain Peter in the box.

—Unfortunately, he got Henry instead, but that’s not his fault….And, now I get to wonder if somebody is going to believe that he was in on that plan—and if that somebody is Regina, Rump is going to die.

—Ik it’s serious, but now that Peter and Henry’s souls have switched, it’s finally happened. Henry is his own great-grandfather.

—I really hate Peter Pan. Not only is he source of trauma for my fave, but he’s also just a really crappy person. And so far, he isn’t even that interesting or complex. Not that he’s badly-written; he’s actually an exceptionally good piece of writing. He’s manipulative and he’s smart and intuitive enough to do it well. He’s also been working on his Truest Believer project for a very long time, and he’s persistent enough to keep going, and powerful and scary enough to build to power needed to carry out his plans. But I still loathe him.

—At least the loml is not A) dead or B) still in the Box. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ but ecstatic.

[justmilah]

1) The whole Milah arc was about choices, or lack thereof. 

She had no choice when Rumple injured himself and made them the town pariah. She had no choice when he sold off their future possible children. She had no choice but to stay there in a town where they were hated and Rumple refused to move. (Something she was still trying to do the day before she left, after Killian had come to port before that.) 

She’d been given the choice to leave at least twice, conceivably more. (Between the Devil’s Due meet cute and The Crocodile, she’d gotten comfortable enough with his crew so I doubt they only met the twice.) And Killian himself had grown up without many choices on his own. He didn’t choose to become a ship slave, he didn’t choose for his father to leave. He probably didn’t even choose the navy, it was most like something his brother wanted for them and he went with it.

So given both  characters’ issues with choices, and the show’s lovely use of parallels, it’s pretty safe to say they wouldn’t have kidnapped Baelfire but would have given him the choice. Which was one of the reasons they waited to go back, so that he’d be old enough to make an informed decision.

2) Milah had abusive tendencies toward Rumple just the same as he had toward her. 

They’re not the point of this ramble, though. When it came to Baelfire, I don’t think her leaving him when Rumple wasn’t there was a common thing. (And who was to say he was starving? He was at the table, he could have been left with lunch and snacks. Heck, with their income, she was probably playing those games to win money to feed them all, we just don’t know.) We only have three episodes she was in to work with, and two of them were told from the point of view of Rumple. He isn’t exactly a reliable narrator, especially when it comes to Milah. But assuming he version is completely accurate, here are some points to conflict the idea that she was a bad parent.

She obliterated that snake that bit him without hesitation.

Her first instinct when they couldn’t afford the cure was to literally murder the guy for it. Which, not the healthies reaction, but one born out of a need to protect her child

She spent enough time with him that the memory of her teaching him to draw was still there on Neverland. 

She actively worked with his father to find a cure, a man she barely liked.

The moment she saw Baelfire in the tavern she went home.

Rumple’s use of ‘do it for Bae’ was not something new. He said it because it worked. She stayed as long as she did for Baelfire.

She was trapped in the Underworld for centuries, not because she missed a hot piece of pirate booty, but because she couldn’t be at piece without making things right with her son for leaving him behind.

I’m not saying a person can do these things and not be abusive. I’m saying I was given no indication that Milah was abusive toward him. Leaving him behind felt like an outlier, especially given her reaction to seeing him in the tavern. It is very possible the fact that she left him behind and saw him in the tavern gave her a flash of what his future would look like with her and gave her the final push she needed to leave.

3) What indication was given that she slept with Killian before she left, let alone a whole gaggle of pirates?

I’m not saying it’s impossible that she enjoyed a pleasant dalliance or twelve with him, but there is nothing to indicate that she left Baelfire alone to go trounce men. 

(Also, I thought we were starting to better understand STDs and how whether you’re someone who enjoys sex a lot, someone who enjoys it a little, or someone who had no choice, or even someone who hasn’t fiddled a diddle ever, it doesn’t matter because the STDs themselves aren’t something to be ashamed of, it’s on whether or not you knowingly and maliciously spread them that matters.) 

And aside from one comment made by Killian to a man he was trying to get a rise out of, there’s no indication that she slept with more than just him. She wasn’t the ship’s whore. In The Crocodile, as she’s taking him onto the ship, the crew shows her the nearly the same amount of deference they’d give their captain.

Rumple loved and adored his son, yes, but he was not as good of a father as he thought he was. Milah loved and adored her son, too, and she wasn’t as bad of a mother as she thought she was.

I could go into a lot more detail but, given what little we have I’m 90% head canon at this point and I tried not to lean into those.

How long would you have headcanoned that Milah would have lived if she didn't get murdered early? Do you think she would have retried raising Baelfire?

Hmmm. That depends on many factors, but I think probably at the very least ten more years? And yes, I think she and Killian would've stuck with their plan do go back for him (wholesome family content!)

[treatian]

The Chronicles of the Dark One: Fathers and Sons

Chapter 4: Death Wish

Tamara was dead.

He didn't mourn her.

He didn't think twice about his decision or the action it wrought. He felt no guilt from it, no regret, no pain. But he also didn't find solace in it.

Tamara was dead.

So was his son.

Killing her hadn't brought him back from the dead. Nothing would ever bring Bae back from the dead. Fortunately, he wouldn't have to live with it much longer. Only long enough to get Henry away from Pan, off the island, and on his way home.

He'd come to kill Tamara quietly with a plan: locate Henry, keep an eye on him as he planned further, and keep his presence a secret as long as possible.

Plans changed. Even one with as few details as that one had.

Before, he hadn't wanted his father to know he was here on the island; now, he wasn't sure he had a choice. Henry was the cause of his undoing, he knew that much from the Seer, but he suspected that his true death would come from Pan. His father had been living out his dreams for ages on this island, and he wasn't about to stop. So if the island was running out of magic, if it was dying, and Henry was the cure, then Pan would do everything he could to hold on to Henry. He would risk anything. To hold on to the life he'd built for as long as possible, Pan would kill anyone he deemed necessary, including his own son.

But for his son, for Baelfire, he needed to keep Henry alive. He needed to keep his grandson safe. If Henry was the Truest Believer, then he had to allow his heart to be removed, and that would take trust. Ordinarily, that might make him quake in his boots. Henry trusted people a little too easily sometimes. But he also knew that the kid had a good head on his shoulders, likely courtesy of his bloodline. He had no idea how much he'd seen of Tamara and Greg's demise in the camp raid or what he thought of Pan, but he hoped it was enough to convince him that they were now his captors and not that they'd saved him from their kidnappers. He hoped that even if he hadn't seen much, Henry would be suspicious of everyone on the island that Greg and Tamara had brought him to. He hoped he'd realize there was a reason he was here, and he'd be skeptical of anyone who took him under his wing.

That was the best-case scenario. Because if Henry could be even just a little suspicious of Pan and the Lost Boys, then it would take Pan time to earn his trust. And if Pan's attention was divided while he attempted that…it wouldn't hurt for him to know he was here. Getting Henry to trust him, keep his son away, track Emma and her band of Merry Misfits, worry about the island…that would make for a very limited attention span. It created a benefit to revealing himself. Or at least that was what he was convincing himself of when he was certain he had no choice in the matter.

The heartbeat he'd heard when he killed Tamara, the one hiding in the woods. Part of him had hoped it was Henry. Another part of him had forgotten it was there as he faced and killed the monster who murdered his son. Now that his mind had cleared and he had time to think, he knew it wasn't his grandson. The Lost Boys had taken Henry; there was no fighting that. That only left one option for who, exactly, the heartbeat belonged to. It was a Lost Boy. Someone who had stayed behind, probably to keep a lookout for who was coming. They probably would have expected Emma or her parents, not the Dark One. And yet, the beat of that heart remained steady. There had been no shock. It remained behind long after it should have dashed into the woods to report what he'd seen to Pan. A cold sweat threatened to break over his body. It wasn't Pan himself…was it?

He left Tamara where she was on the ground, left both her and Mendell to be found by the others as he wandered off, thinking, hoping that if he did, a Lost Boy would take advantage of the situation and run to Pan as well. But the heartbeat followed. Where he walked, it kept at the same distance, never made a sound, and was not perceptible to even his ears. It just followed him. It watched him from a distance. All the while, his mouth grew dry, and he knew he was using magic of his own to keep himself calm because he certainly couldn't bring himself to believe he was calm, not with his father potentially behind him.

He had options, but nothing he liked. He could either ignore the being in the woods, let the weight of the unknown cling to him and continue to throw him off his game at the risk of the boy alerting Pan, or he could face it head-on. Want and need roared in his head, battling once more. What he wanted to do was disappear, never knowing. What he needed was information and bravery, and he knew which of the options was the brave thing. What he would have given right now to have a small piece of Belle's soul…

With the rush of decision flowing through him, he moved into a clearing and sat down on a rock, positioning himself just so. This way, if his father did show, he'd be in a better position to keep himself in check. He waited expectantly, but apparently not obviously enough to whoever was in the shadows. He could still feel them. They were watching. And he was losing his nerve the longer he sat here.

"Come out and say hello, dearie!" he called, letting them know that he wasn't just aware they were there but wanted to interact. Needed. Needed to interact…certainly not wanted.

The leaves and brush rustled and he held his breath as we watched, preparing for the worst, hoping for the best…

Out stepped an unfamiliar boy. He tried not to let the breath he released be too obvious as he took the child in. He was tall, cloaked, and there was some sort of primitive weapon he'd probably made for arts and crafts that day that would be useless against his magic. But he wasn't here to hurt Lost Boys or wield magic. He wasn't even here to pose a threat. He was merely a distraction to make sure Henry stayed alive.

"Hello, Rumpelstiltskin," the boy announced from across the clearing with a formality to his voice that made him think he was trying to scare him just because he knew his name. That wasn't enough to instill panic; he was sure his father had told all of them his name. So he rolled his eyes and twisted his arms into a mock pose of something he might have done years ago if he had truly wanted to scare. He didn't really care what the boy wanted him to be at that moment. There was only what he needed himself to be.

"Pan welcomes you to the island," he continued. "He wanted me to tell you he is excited to see you again."

That…that almost gave him pause.

"Oh, yeah, I'm sure he is," he huffed out a laugh without missing a beat as the boy came closer and finally got a good look at him.

A chill passed through his body. He did his best to hold his pose and keep the shock hidden from his face, but that was indeed a difficult task. It wasn't that the boy carried a greeting from his father, which told him his appearance here was no surprise to Pan. No. It was the boy himself. He wasn't strange or unfamiliar…he recognized him.

"He wanted me to let you know you're welcome in Neverland for as long as you wish to stay…with one caveat."

He took steadying breaths as he talked, reminded himself not to appear shaken, and smirked at the line. "There's always something with him."

"If you're here for the boy," Felix drawled, "well…that makes you Pan's enemy."

"Then nothing's changed."

He'd been Pan's enemy ever since he abandoned him on this very island, ever since he'd realized that having a son was a liability and not a blessing. He'd been Pan's enemy ever since he started snatching boys from their beds. Boys like Felix. He knew him. Barely, but he knew him. Felix had been from his own hometown. He'd gone missing shortly after his own return from Neverland. In fact, it was after Felix went missing that his Aunts had cast protection spells to keep him safe. Felix was still here?

"If you go against him, you will not survive," he warned with a child's laughable menace.

He finally took his eyes off the boy and returned the laughter externally, all the while; he was collecting himself internally, reminding himself to focus, not to be rattled. Felix was warning him to stay away, but it was a child's warning from a boy who'd never grown up. It was a warning that carried very little weight with him. How had Felix survived this long? Loyalty, he assumed. By passing along messages like this, or else by inventing them himself. Fuck, as he looked into Felix's scarred face, it dawned on him that if his Aunts hadn't kept protection spells over him, if he hadn't rescued Baelfire all those years ago, he might have turned out just like him. An ignorant teenager who thought they could threaten the Dark One.

"Well, the question isn't 'will I survive?'" he replied, standing up to stride over to him. He wanted to see menace? He'd show him how it worked. "Because we both know I won't. No, no, the real question is…" he reached out and grabbed Felix by the lapels roughly. "'how many of you I take with me.'"

Felix didn't blink at the action. "So, is that your answer?"

"That's my answer."

"Well then, I suppose that means I'll see you again in less friendly circumstances."

"Count on it," he hissed as he released him with the confidence that he'd done the job. He didn't hesitate or flinch as he'd expected him to, though, at this moment, as far as he knew, Felix was nearly as old as he was. A man in a boy's body who never grew up and was subject to the rule of a boy who didn't care about anyone but himself. Perhaps he shouldn't have been shocked that his threat didn't resonate. Still, he side-stepped the boy, knowing that he'd pass the message on to his father, and between him and the others, he'd be plenty busy, hopefully too busy to truly begin to pursue Henry or harm him until they could get him help and get him off the island.

"One last thing…" Felix called before he made his way out of the clearing. He stopped and turned back to him. "There's something he wanted you to have…"

From the depths of his cloak, Felix removed something, and he stirred his magic up inside of him on instinct, preparing for attack, only to look down at the item he'd thrown at his feet.

His magic died before he had to use it. He felt dizzy, like the island was spinning out of control despite not knowing if this planet the island was on even rotated. His jaw dropped, and on instinct, he dropped to his knees to pick up the beloved item he hadn't seen in centuries.

Peter Pan.

Not his father.

His doll.

The doll that his father had made him when he was a child and needed a toy. It was in pristine condition; the stitching on the roughly hewn coat he wore still looked new, with every knot and tie he remembered still in place. The husk would have disintegrated a century ago in the Enchanted Forest without magical protection, and yet here it was, feeling new and soft just as it had all that time ago. Oh, he hadn't seen this doll in-

"Isn't it funny…" he glanced up to see Felix kneeling opposite him, staring him in the eyes with a deadly look that no child should ever have been able to master. "The things we haven't thought about in years still have the ability to make us cry?"

Cry. He was crying. Belle was the only individual he'd cried in front of in years, and yet…

He cast his gaze back down at the doll and felt the tears roll down his face as he remembered.

He hadn't seen his doll in years. He'd lost him. He'd been holding on to him the day his father brought him to Neverland, the day his own father had told him he'd never wanted a son. There had been a struggle as he'd been taken by the Shadow and run back to his aunts. They'd asked him where the doll was; that was the last time he realized he'd lost him in the struggle, and yet here he was clean and new and-

"See you around…Dark One," Felix stated in a dull, mocking tone before leaving him in the clearing on his knees.

[woodelf68]

TEA RECS

For anyone needing last-minute fic suggestions to nominate for the TEAs -- let's get some fics on the ballot!

Family -- The Hunt For The Green Unicorn by woodelf68

Best Child Fic (fluffy fic centered on children in the Rumbelle family) -- The Hunt For the Green Unicorn by woodelf68

Kink -- Presents by kelyon, Begging On His Bended Knees by kelyon, A Cricket Gets Lucky by mrs-stiltskin, Beyond the Red Door by mrs-stiltskin

Romance -- A Change of Seasons by deliriumsdelight7

Comedy -- Silver Tongue by thestraggletagThreesome -- A Cricket Gets Lucky by mrs-stiltskin

Best First Time -- A Change of Seasons by deliriumsdelight7, Caught by thestraggletag

PWP -- Musical by killingkueen, Caught by thestraggletag, Roll For Initiative by thestraggletag, Silver Tongue by thestraggletag, Tiger by the Tail by shakespeareanhoneybadgers, Beyond the Red Door by mrs-stiltskin

BDSM -- Begging on His Bended Knees by kelyonWhy? -- Return Notice by jackabelle73

Best Date (Overall) -- A Bad Idea by notalwayslate

Best Courtship -- Tattercloak by deliriumsdelight7

Best One-Shot -- Return Notice by jackabelle73

Best Historical AU -- The Treaty of Abernethy by beastlycheese

Best AU -- Roll For Initiative by thestraggletag

Best AU!OUAT -- Fascination by worryinglyinnocent, Desperate Souls by timelordthirteen

Best Series -- The Floofy!verse by woodelf68

Best Novel Length Fic - Tattercloak by deliriumsdelight7

Best Holiday Fic -- To Watch the Stoic Squirm by comradegiddybiscuitBest

Crossover Fic -- Beyond the Red Door by mrs-stiltskinBest Dark Castle -- Presents by kelyon

Best Storybrooke -- Fascination by worryinglyinnocent, Desperate Souls by timelordthirteen

Best Travel -- Beyond the Red Door by mrs-stiltskin

Best Background Swanfire -- To Watch the Stoic Squirm by comradegiddybiscuit

Best Drama -- Old Tricks by lotus0kid,

Best Supernatural -- Love in a Time of Horror by joylee56

Best Creature AU -- Goldzilla!verse by phoenixfeatherquill

Best Unexpected Twist -- Made Free of It by lotus0kid

Rumbelle Secret Santa -- Mr September by thatravenclawbitch, A Change of Seasons by deliriumsdelight7, Love in a Time of Horror by joylee56, Made Free Of It by lotus0kid

Rumbelle Summer Gift Exchange -- Presents by kelyon, Old Tricks by lotus0kid, To Watch the Stoic Squirm by comradegiddybiscuit, Roll For Initiative by thestraggletag

Fluffapalooza - "The look on your face does not bode well..." prompt by basicallyunicorn

Monthly Rumbelle (Non-smut) -- Into the Woods by worryinglyinnocent, Fascination by worryinglyinnocent

Best AU Belle -- Mr September by thatravenclawbitch. A Change of Seasons by deliriumsdelight7, Return Notice by jackabelle73

Best Dark One -- A Change of Seasons by deliriumsdelight7, Made Free of It by lotus0kid

Best Woobie!Rum -- Begging on His Bended Knees by kelyon

Best Baelfire/Neal -- Tattercloak by deliriumsdelight7

Best Fan Art -- 'They prefer the chipped cup' by milaeryn

Best Artist -- milaeryn

BEST AUTHOR -- amuseoffyre, lotus0kid, woodelf68-

BEST RUMBELLE FIC -- Mr. September by thatravenclawbitch, Made Free of It by lotus0kid-

BEST ANYELLE FIC -- Finding a Cure by deliriumsdelight7

[pact-mom-kyrie]

Hello pals. It’s been One of Those Weeks, and I really, really need to think about something good. Something that makes me feel better, you know? A story that makes me feel happy and hopeful.

As always, shoutout to @disaster-bi-canach for the help, and @spiritofthetiger​ for making the small post that made ditch insomnia and write most of this at 2AM. This will go a bit personal because I have a lot of feelings and objectivity is a lie.

So, are you ready for the ride? Cool.

Let’s talk about Efram Greetsglory, Imperator of the Flame Legion.

One of the first things we, as players, know is this: the charr shamans are assholes. I don’t know the details, but the GW1 veterans among us know everything. They used to hang out with Pyre Fierceshot, and that guy was really pissed off with them, because of their deceit, their titan worshipping stuff and general jekass tyranny.

In GW2 you discover they have become the Flame Legion. Still alive, still burning everything, still treating charr females as second class people even after Kalla Scorchrazor kicked their asses in the most spectacular way. Their Imperator, Geheron Baelfire, wants to become a god (and almost does if it wasn't for a human, a charr, and some meddling adventurers). After the defeat, they join this maniac terrorist sylvari and create one of the worst refugee crises in Tyria. In short, they are still the absolute fucking worst.

And years later, in what has to be the greatest charr party ever, they are there. Like any other legion. With a flag and a camp and everything, just as if nothing had ever happened. Crecia Stoneglow, the most level headed character in the whole map, asks you to talk with their Imperator. After knowing Geheron Baelfire, you can expect the worst. I mean, they are the worst after all.

But then you arrive at their camp and something happens.

(By now you’re used to the staunch militaristic and practical outlook of the charr. You have fixed tanks, fought ghosts, and enjoyed a metal concert. Rough stuff. What is expected of huge furry spartan engineers. And once again, you have no reason to think it would be any different this time)

But the Flame Legion ‘Imperator’ doesn't want you to do magic or fetch stuff, he wants you to console cubs.

Female cubs, that is, including his daughter. The big guy representing The Misogynistic Legion™ wants you to assure little bullied girls that it will be alright, that they are strong and worthy. That they don’t have to be ashamed of their magic or their origins. And after you do it, he asks his daughter, in a concerned dad voice, how about going back to the fahrar, to give it another chance.

At this time, you just wonder what the hell is going on?! Is it a ploy? Is it a lie? Why? Why why why why? Who the hell is this guy?!

And you will have three episodes to know why: because the Flame Legion, under his leadership, has changed. A lot.

You hear about a bloody civil war, about them being a splinter cell tired of war and suffering. A Legion that curses their old Imperator, and now is facing cultural genocide by having their cubs being raised by others. You see their females fighting too, telling their own stories of how they were exploited, and now they feel ostracized for being from the Flame Legion.

You start to realize that maybe it's not a ploy. It’s real. And its represented by this big old charr with a lot of horns, the one that showed himself not as a political and military leader, but as a concerned dad. Efram Greetsglory, the ‘Imperator’, the leader of a band of charr who decided to listen to Crecia, a cub born from one of their own.

During the story, Efram calls out a war crime, threatening to kill Smodur the Unflinchable, a charr that commands one of the greatest war machines in Tyria. He always gives his enemies the benefit of surrender, he does not enjoy the fights and tries to honor the dead. After the assassination of Smodur, he recognized that the Iron Legion Imperator was right, that his people are poisoned to the bone. He is maybe one of the few charr that realizes that his militaristic culture is doomed to an endless cycle of blood and conquest.

And because of that, he gets called out for being soft, for being too forgiving. He knows his Legion wants to be recognized as part of a greater society. He understands why some have betrayed him and the other Imperators for the hollow promise of power, rebirth, and redemption. He is just… kind, totally, unexpectedly, incredibly, kind.

He is also one of the most powerful and badass elementalists you can find in-game. Huge fire tornadoes and power to melt solid doors made of ice and all that stuff. He is a shaman and has earned his place, no doubt. He could be one of the Baelfire pretenders (he even has the same outfit), but he isn’t. His kindness is a choice, not something that just happened. 

All of this to say something simple. I really love this guy.

Like damn, I love a lot of characters in this game who are just kind people, but I didn't expect a huge charr from The Problematic Legion™ to be one of them. One who is part of maybe the greatest unseen redemption story in the history of Tyria. A character that is not scared of change, who goes above and beyond to build a new world, a better world.

Now, in these harsh times, when everything seems to happen all  at once, this is the story I really want, one that I really need. So, with that, let’s begin again.

Hi, I'm Ren. I live in a harsh place, full of harsh people.

And I love Efram Greetsglory, because that huge cat shows us that to build a new world, we have to be kinder, to honor the good in everyone, to recognize the faults and the qualities of our cultures, and try to be better. Efram shows that the cure against Bangar, against fascist death cult bullshit, is to fight with a flaming fist and a merciful heart.

And that is amazing, and it has helped me a lot in these hard times.

So, thank you Anet. And thank you reader, for being here.

Never thought I would ever say this but… for Flame Legion.

[naivesilver]

Top five ‘August is an idiot’ moments please :)

Do you mean his entire life, freenklin my dear? The boy had a hold of the braincell for about half an hour, and that was when he was seven. I don't know if I can't restrict the list to only five entries.

(Jk jk I love him and you both.)

Ask me my top 5 anything

Let's call this "I bully August for half an hour out of sheer unadulterated love".

1) "I know you're Baelfire."

It doesn't get any cringier than this - what the fuck does it MEAN, August? You could have pulled off a huge reveal with ease, drama queen in exile that you are. You could have produced a relic of the land you'd both once called home. You could have done literally anything, because ANYTHING would have been better than a fucking typewriter with a piece of paper consisting of a single line stuck in it.

Just... *sigh*. I love him to bits, but sometimes I really want to bang his head against a wall and hope some sense trickles into it.

2) What happens in Hong Kong doesn't fucking stay in Hong Kong

Yes, it's tragic. Yes, we get a clear view of the new lows August has reached. Yes, he's literally scraping the bottom of human decency and desperation here. But come on: it IS a little funny.

This guy finds out he's turning back into wood and has an existential crisis in an ER waiting room (boy, can I relate to that) complete with the most hilarious faces he's ever pulled in his career. Then, when this magical dragon guy tells him there might be a cure, he steals money from Tamara and BOLTS away - you can almost hear the Benny Hill theme music playing faintly in the background, because the viewer already knows he's doomed and that this is a fool's hope. Finally, he's wearing the most godawful clothes ever known to man, which is a damn shame, given that the rest of his wardrobe is amazing and that I'd steal his Wish Realm outfit in a heartbeat.

Sad puppet hours, right there.

3) Rumpelstiltskin's knife

August, my love, reason why I survived the first lockdown, did you REALLY think it would work? That you would get the Dark One under your control and then...and then what? The tough guy act is a ruse from start to finish. You can barely order a pizza by yourself. What was the plan exactly?

Ngl I spent this scene with my head in my hands because by then I'd thrown my lot in with this fucker but I was already regretting it. Why? Why does he ALWAYS set out on journeys that will most certainly ruin his chances of survival? I know it's very in character for any sort of Pinocchio, but I'd really like for him to just have a nap, please. Or a cat. Or a nap with a cat curled on his feet. Is it too much to ask?

4) "Broken."

I am positive August must have visited Italy and gotten so scared by local post offices to vow to never use one again. Why did he use a pigeon? WHERE did he get the pigeon? These are the questions I wanted to have answered in season 7, not Henry's unfortunate love life.

Also, it's hysterical that this man can't communicate in a normal way with Neal to save his life. Just send him a damn text message. Or a phonecall. Who am I kidding, I hate phonecalls, August was right about that.

Though now I'm a bit sad Neal didn't get to interact with August at all after he returned to Storybrooke. The two of them and Emma all in the same room would have been awkward to say the least, but the comedy potential would have been off the charts. Snow got to slap Marco, Emma should have been granted the opportunity to slap someone as well. As a treat.

5) Let's get kidnapped and forcibly returned to a respectable age

They were threatening him with death, torture and ridicule and he was about to laugh in their faces. I'd say iconic if he hadn't been risking it all with his mere existence at that point. Rumple was right to curb his enthusiasm, actually, I slapped a hand on my face the second I saw him at it.

Anyway, literally five minutes later they try to break him out and the second he spots Ursula (it was Ursula, right? God I need to rewatch his episodes so bad) he sits back down like "A'ight, it was fun while it lasted, remind Blue she's promised me a casket for my untimely death", because he just can't be normal for a single second. That plot was wild as shit - not that I'm mad that it got August back, but I want to know who approved it in the writing room, and what words where spoken there, specifically, to convince everyone else of its sanity.

Honorable mentions: getting hit by Snow White's bolt out of fucking nowhere, but also going to find BLUE of all people to get rid of the wood problem. Bro, that's literally the last person I'd look for. It's like asking a fish to pilot a velocipede, except in this case the fish is also a nasty piece of shit who'd run you over as soon as it got a hold on how to use pedals. There's a shepherd mob boss who works as a butcher in Storybrooke and I'd STILL go to her before I went to the Blue Fairy. Smh.

[scentedflowersong]

12 Days of Swan-Mills Saga X-Mas - Day 8

On the eighth day of Christmas, my true love Swan-Mills Saga gave to me…

Welcome, dear friends, to the eighth of our twelve holiday meetings, during which we recall some of the best bits of the five Swan-Mills saga stories by the marvellous @swanqueeneverafter​ (thank you for the artworks used here).

The eighth day belongs to the brilliant bunch - the heroes of The Story of Us.

!WARNING! Spoilers ahead !WARNING! 

NEAL CASSIDY/BAELFIRE

Status: dead, killed by Zelena/sacrificed himself to resurrect Rumplestiltskin Notable heroic deeds: offering himself to the Shadow instead of the Darling siblings, helping save Henry in Neverland, sacrificing himself to resurrect his father, sending Hook a memory potion to bring back Emma Hero Rank: 2/10 - tbh, he only made it to the list because he died (and he had been tricked into that sacrifice), nothing can make up for letting (underage and knocked up by him!) Emma go to prison for HIS misdeeds

ALADDIN

Status: alive Notable heroic deeds: saving Jasmine and the Sultan from Jafar, getting the Black Fairy’s wand for Zelena and Belle, becoming the Genie to help Jasmine save Agrabah, saving the crew of Nautilus with his Genie powers, restoring Agrabah by a true love’s kiss with Jasmine Hero Rank: 5/10 - minus points for giving up Saviourhood

ALICE

Status: alive Notable heroic deeds: saving herself from the tower, trying to find a cure for her and Will’s curse of poisoned heart, turning Gothel into a tree, getting rid of the Darkness for good (using her Guardian powers) Hero Rank: 6/10 - cutie

ANNA

Status: alive Notable heroic deeds: defeating Hans, saving Elsa, teaching Charming how to fight, trying to discover the truth of her parents’ death and thus help Elsa, trying to stop Ingrid Hero Rank: 5/10 - not bad for a dorky princess

BELLE

Status: alive Notable heroic deeds: almost breaking Rumple’s bond to the dagger, helping Mulan save prince Phillip, helping Ariel get Pandora’s box to Neverland, helping Neal ressurect Rumple, revealing Zelena’s (and more or less any other villain’s) plan, helping Merida save her brothers, killing (accidentally) Dr Jekyll, generally being walking Google Hero Rank: 6/10 - bonus points for putting up with everyone’s sh*t

THE APPPRENTICE

Status: dead, killed by the Darkness Notable heroic deeds: protecting the hat, trapping the Author in the book, telling Lily the truth about who she is, sending Ingrid into our world and consequently helping Emma find a decent home for a bit Hero Rank: 5/10 - should’ve ditched Merlin and just do his thing

ROBIN HOOD (OG)

Status: dead, killed by Hades Notable heroic deeds: helping Neal get to Neverland, saving Regina from a flying monkey, willing to be with Zelena and their child even though she decieved him, bringing Hades down even after his death Hero Rank: 6/10 - one of the cooler beards, pity he never stays alive long

HENRY MILLS

Status: alive Notable heroic deeds: bringing Emma to Storybrooke, practically forcing Emma into breaking the Dark Curse by putting himself under a sleeping curse, helping Regina find the Author, saving everyone by becoming the next Author and reversing Isaac’s story, helping souls from the Underworld move on, trying to get his parents to remeber during the Black Fairy’s curse, saving Emma with a true love’s kiss (after Gideon stabs her) Hero Rank: 7/10 - his mothers’ son (and we’re ranking just the teenage Henry here)

SNOW WHITE & PRINCE CHARMING

Status: alive Notable heroic deeds: taking up his brother’s responsibilities + saving Frederick + breking the sleeping curse with a true love’s kiss + voluntarily goin under a sleeping curse to help Snow and Emma + acquiring the magical mushroom  + pucnhing Hook/Facilier during the Black Fairy’s curse + helping Emma at the Sheriff’s station (David), saving Emma from the ogre + saving Regina from Tamara & Spencer, casting the second Dark Curse + helping Hercules move on + waking Regina up during the Black Fairy’s curse (Snow), “defeating” the Evil Queen and king George, helping to save Henry in Neverland, Hero Rank: 7/10 - points down for snitching Lily and sending her in the world without magic + lying about it (not to go to the subject of sending Emma away)

REGINA MILLS/THE EVIL QUEEN

Status: alive Notable heroic deeds: adopting and raising Henry (even after finding out who his mother was), repeatedly saving Emma, taking the death curse off the well, returning Ariel her voice, saving Roland, helping Snow cast the second Dark Curse, protecting Snow before Cora, breaking the second Dark Curse with a true love’s kiss, defeating Zelena with light magic, freeing fairies from the Hat, getting (temporarily) rid of the darkness by splitting her soul, taking Snow & Charming’s curse off their heart (with the help of everyone Hero Rank: 10/10 - Our Queen, do I even have to say more?

EMMA SWAN

Status: alive Notable heroic deeds: helping Ashley keep her baby, reuniting Hansel & Gretel with their father, repeatedly saving Regina, fighting Maleficent for the true love potion, breaking the Dark Curse with a true love’s kiss, reuniting Rumple with Neal, repeatedly ironing out the timelines (after being responsible for their entaglement, sure), sacrificing herself to the darkness/becoming the Dark One, saving Cora from Hades, healing Ashley, defeating Gideon Hero Rank: 10/10 - Our Saviour, do I even have to say more?

Together: stopping the crystal/Storybrooke before doom, moving the moon and defeating Pan in Neverland, saving Henry in Neverland, defeating Chernabog, finding Lily, saving Robin from Zelena, breaking the Black Fairy’s curse with a true love’s kiss, uniting the realms of the story with a true love’s kiss, making us believe in true love

Please, feel free to let me know what you think of the ranking, the picks, the good deeds listed (the lists are not definitive), or anything else :)

Stay tuned for more…  

[thejollyroger-writer]

THE WASTELAND - Chapter Three: THE ATHENAEUM // THE CABIN, Part 1

Some triggers: this story is rated TEEN, mostly for violence. It takes place during wartime, and some of the characters go through some violence and torture. If you need more information about this, please just message me!

SUMMARY:  In a world that has been saturated in war for as long as anyone can remember, Emma Swan has rebuilt her life as far away from the chaos as possible, opening her own maternity hospital after spending too many years in makeshift battlefield aid stations. But one night, a bloodied and battered soldier finds her hospital trying to get away from an enemy with a penchant for torture and a personal vendetta against him. With the help of Emma’s childhood friend Prince David and a motley collection of humans and magic-wielders, the quest to save Killian Jones’ life from the poison used by the enemy takes them to places even beyond the known world.

Header and the art for every chapter by the lovely @spartanguard – special thanks to @cssns for making this monster happen!

Prologue on AO3 // Prologue on Tumblr // Chapter One (ART) // Chapter Two (ART) // Chapter Three on AO3 

ART for this chapter 

-- -- --

“What is that one?” Emma asks, trying to focus on Regina as she changes the bandages around Killian’s battlefield amputation — each part of this a remnant from a life she truly thought she left behind. She hasn’t practiced very much magic since she turned to prenatal medicine, only needing the few spells that would help women get through the pain of childbirth, and it’s been just as long since she’s used any potions beyond the few Johanna taught her how to make, nonetheless brewed them herself. 

The memory of how to restitch an amputation like the one Killian sustained comes back to her no problem, though, so as she goes through the motions of fixing what got torn during transportation, she tries to pay as much attention to Regina as she can. 

“This one is hawthorne flower mixed with a little mustard seed and some foxglove root."

“Do you think any of these are going to work?” Mary Margaret’s voice is small, strange coming from the one who usually offers hope even in the times that seem the most hopeless, but even she knows just how bad Killian’s wounds are. 

Regina shakes her head, but doesn’t look up from the worn book on the table in front of her. “It would be much easier if we knew what he was poisoned with that helped make the dark magic this strong, but I’ve never seen anything strong enough to keep a wound from healing, especially not to the point that this one is. It’s just oozing whatever they used on him. 

“And he didn’t tell you what the poison was?” Mary Margaret asks, pacing back and forth in the walkway between the kitchen and the living room, unable to keep her worry off her face. 

“I doubt he even knows,” David says. “I’ve seen what Pan and Baelfire can do on their own firsthand, but now that they’re working together, I can only imagine the kind of vile, dark things they’re doing.” 

“If it’s even from this land,” Emma says, letting the thought slip past her lips for the first time. It’s an idea that they’ve all been trying to avoid, knowing that it would make finding a cure even harder. For all the ages the world has been at war, the thought of new lands beyond their borders is a relatively new one, people too focused on the violence within these borders to even think about leaving them. But within the past few years, talk of other lands has been popping up, especially around communities of mer-nephilm and some of the elders who have tried to focus their energies on new ways of travel beyond trains and cars. 

(King Gold had a small fleet of men who knew how to navigate in the air, the rumors said, but after some of the men threatened to take their science and technology to the Gale, Gold had all of the ships destroyed -- and, the rumors said, all the men as well.)

“Yeah, well, let’s just hope that’s not the case,” Regina mumbles, turning yet another page in one of the books that are currently covering her large dining room table. “I am running out of ideas, though.” 

David and Emma share a glance, thankfully not caught by the others in the room. They both have an idea, one paired with the nightmarish memory from a battlefield hospital and a time they’ve both tried to forget, a time that Emma specifically locked away in the back of her mind in a vault that she never wanted to re-open. 

They try a few more potions and some minor spells on Killian’s wound, even hoping to find something that could at least keep debris from getting in it, but their search comes up fruitless. Nothing they do has any effect on the wound at all.

An hour later, and though the rest of Killian’s wounds are patched, stitched, and covered, they’ve made zero headway towards any sort of healing for the gash over his heart. 

Regina has gone up to her office, searching for a few rare ingredients for her last-ditch effort for a healing potion and packing a bag for their travels; David and Mary Margaret sit on her back porch, each with a cup of coffee in the hand that is not grasping onto the other. But Emma sits on one of the kitchen chairs by where they laid Killian, her focus still on the glimmering wound that covers his heart. She has worked a small ball of her own magical energy between her hands, getting it to react with the snaps and crackles still coming from the dark magic inside the gash. She can feel the power from within it humming, louder as she and her magic move closer toward it, but the most she can get to happen is a fine protective layer over his skin, no thicker than cheesecloth, but still failing to touch the affected area.  

She is so focused on this that she fails to notice as Killian starts to stir, his head moving slowly from one side to the other as he regains consciousness and tries to figure out where he is and how he got there. 

“Swan,” he chokes out after a few moments, no louder than a whisper with how dry his throat has become, but it still scares her enough to get her to jump from her seat. 

“Fuck,” she whispers, her hand over her heart, but a small smile starts to spread across her face. “Sorry, you just scared me.” 

Killian offers a small smile of his own. “My apologies, love.” He tries to cough to clear his throat, but only finds pain. “Could I get some water?’ he whispers. “And what the hell did you do to me, everything hurts again.” 

Jumping out of her seat for real this time, Emma nods. “Yes, yes, of course. And I’ll get you another round of painkillers.” 

He finds his eyes locked on her as she walks away, really taking in her figure for the first time since she found him in her office. She’s slender, but muscular, he notices — though it’s not the first time for that, since she did have to move him a few times. But this is the first he notices how truly beautiful she is, her wavy blonde hair piled high on top of her head so as to stay out of her way as she worked on him. When she turns at the kitchen counter, filling the glass she has found with water from the faucet, she finds him watching her, and the corner of her lip turns up into a gentle smile. 

He realizes here, answering her smile with a small one of his own, just how indebted to her he is. He does not remember much about the night he crawled into her hospital, but he knows just how damn lucky he was to have ended up there and not in a place where he would have been denied care — or, worse, turned back to Baelfire and Pan. 

Just how lucky he was to find a caretaker with such strong ties to the Prince, the only other leader he has found worthy of his dedication since he lost his brother, and the man who, at many times, even reminds him of Liam in the best of ways. 

Under any other circumstance, he most likely would have been dead already and not in the care of someone who so adamantly wants to find a way to rid him of the darkness found within the deep wound inflicted in his side. Someone he feels so drawn to, though he cannot figure out why, and certainly will not act on that feeling.

“Here you go,” she says, handing him a glass of water before doing her best to help him sit up without causing him pain or reopening any of the wounds she just finished restitching. 

“Thank you.” 

He takes a small sip of water, the coolness of it immediately helping his dry throat. 

Slowly, Emma sits down beside him, and he realizes that she has not taken her eyes off of him since she handed him the glass. 

“Can I ask you something?’ she asks after a moment, her voice quiet, as if she is trying to keep their conversation a secret from those around them, even though they are alone in the large open space. 

He just nods, taking another sip of the water. 

“Do you know what Pan used to drug you?” 

Squeezing his eyes shut, he takes a deep, ragged breath. This is the conversation he has been dreading, because he knows that revealing it will only remove the small amount of hope left in Emma, her thinking that they will be able to find a cure for him. He does not know if anyone else in their party has any experience with the poison, but he knows more about it than he cares to, though he does not yet know how to share that with her. 

“Yes,” he says finally. “Though I’m afraid that, in the times I’ve dealt with it in the past, there has been no way to cure the victim once it’s been used, and I certainly haven’t seen it used alongside dark magic the way it has been here.” 

His words are ice to the deepest parts of her, and she doesn’t need him to say any more to know that her hunch has become the reality. 

“Dreamshade.” 

They say it at the same time, their eyes locking together moments later, and neither of them dares to move. 

The sliding door to the back porch slides shut even though neither of them heard it open. 

“Dreamshade?” David asks, and they both snap their attention to him, though only Emma nods. 

“That’s good, though, right?” Mary Margaret asks, much too much hope in her voice for the circumstance, “Now that we know that, we just have to find the antidote?” 

David and Emma share a look again, and this time it is noticed by the others in the room; obviously they know something they’re not sharing. 

Nobody answers — nobody moves —  for what feels like far too long. Mary Margaret takes turns staring at both of them, but does not press any further. The silence holds until Regina comes down the stairs, and she notices the awkward, tense silence right away. 

“What the hell is going on down here?” 

This is the question that breaks them, and both David and Emma seem to return their attention back to the room from wherever their minds took them to, but it’s not until David speaks that Killian does the same, his mind off on a memory of its own. 

“Do you want to tell them, or should I?” David asks, and when Emma doesn’t answer, too afraid of the ghosts the story will reveal about her past, David takes the lead.

“Psst, Em,” David whispers, nudging her with his elbow. She didn’t mean to fall asleep, really, but with everything going on, with all the changes happening to everything around her, she's glad she was able to find a little bit of rest . It takes her a moment to adjust to her surroundings — or, what little of them she can see, since everything around her is still dark. 

“It’s the middle of the night,” she mumbles, still trying to figure out what the single blinding light in front of the truck might be. 

“Yeah, but we’re here.” 

They’re here. 

“You couldn’t have, I don’t know, gotten us here during the day?” she jokes, but neither of them smile. None of this is funny. 

“We can’t cross the Wasteland during the day, Swan,” Robin says from the backseat, not sensing the joke, and David lets out a small laugh. But in a moment, as the hospital becomes clearer in front of them, all of the laughter in the truck is sucked away. 

“Have any of you ever been to a battlefield hospital?” Emma asks, a much more serious tone in her voice than was there a moment before. 

A much more terrified tone. 

“I promised my mother I’d stay away from them,” David says. 

“Yet here we are,” Robin deadpans. “Why are we here again?”

“I need to be somewhere other than sitting behind the planning table next to my father, who will never listen to nothing I say to him anyway.” 

“And this is where you decided you’ll do the most good?” 

“I was forbidden from battlefields, especially with all this new technology Gold’s trackers have. I wasn’t forbidden from raising the morale of the men fighting for me by aiding in their healing.” 

“What about the rest of us?” 

Emma holds up her hands, answering for herself before David can pull her into the conversation. “I’m a medic, so I can help people wherever we end up.” 

“A healer I understand, Dave, but you brought a Terren to a place where neither a connection to the earth or the animals will be helpful.” 

David cranes his head so he can see Robin in the rear-view mirror. “I brought you because you’re the only man who I trust with my life,” he says, as much sincerity in his voice as he can muster, and the truck stays silent as David parks in the small lot outside the hospital.

They’re greeted by a man in all black with wild blond hair sticking up in every direction and a woman with long, dark hair in jeans and a maroon fatigue top, with a rifle slung across her back and a pistol and a dagger in matching leather sheaths on either hip. T he man speaks first, holding his hand out to David after opening the gate for them before greeting the rest of them. “Welcome, Your Highness. It’s a pleasure to have you all here. I’m Victor Whale, I’m sort of in charge around here.”  

“And I’m Mulan,” the woman says, her face and voice lacking all signs of emotion. “I’m in charge of everything Victor isn’t.” 

She shakes none of their hands, though acknowledges David with a slight nod. He’s been around warriors like her before, can tell by her countenance alone that she is among those who have been forced into a war that they wanted nothing to do with simply because they had no other choice. He is sympathetic towards them, but he would never say it out loud, as it would be seen as dishonorable though he would never mean it as such. 

Victor offers them a small tour of the camp, only the things they pass on the way to their cabins, with Mulan disappearing in the opposite direction.

“I apologize for her, Your Highness, she—” Victor tries, but David silences him both with a hand held up and with his own words. 

“Please don’t apologize for her. I’ve been around enough of this war to sense the disdain for me, my father, and everything we stand for without anyone needing to say anything. It’s part of the reason I’m so dead-set on spending time outside of the safety of the palace, part of the reason I’m here in the first place.” Victor nods. “And also, I think it would be better if you just called me David, and I would only like for you to introduce me as such. I don’t want the soldiers out here to think of me as their Prince, but just as another man who is on their side of this war.” 

At this, Victor smiles, pulling open the door to a well-kept cabin in a more secluded part of the camp. “You’re a good man, sir. I hope you know that much of this army chooses to fight for you and not for your father. That many of us wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.” 

David follows Emma and Robin through the door, finding themselves in a small common area with a few doors around it that lead to a single bathroom and four individual “bedrooms,” which only contain a small cot and a set of drawers, the space that the three of them will call home for the next few months. 

“I really appreciate it, Victor.” 

“Get some rest and I’ll find you again in the morning to show you around the rest of the camp. It’s been a quiet few days so hopefully you’ll be able to get a bit settled before any of you are really needed.” 

  They go through a relatively quiet two months, nothing unexpected coming up through the woodwork from the frontlines, though with far more bullets than Emma ever wanted to see, a very different life than she ever imagined since David introduced her to the palace medic. 

Until Jefferson arrives. He was part of a prisoner swap between this hospital and another, not the first of those Emma had been there to witness, but he was in a far worse state than any of the other wounds that Emma has helped with since her arrival. 

A far worse state than she’s ever seen before. 

Will Scarlett, the man that came with him, relayed the information he’d discovered during his time as a prisoner in the Nephilim camp — though there was not much to relay beyond his knowledge of what happened to Jefferson. 

“From what I gathered, there were a few higher-up Nephilim soldiers who recently took a liking to torture, and were, uh, practicing some newer forms.” 

“This is more than just torture,” David mutters, watching as Whale’s surgical needle fails to take hold of the skin around the gash on the man’s arm. 

“Well, yeah,” Will says, sitting up on his elbows in his cot. “One of those forms was this new kind of poison, supposedly from some far-off land that no one has ever seen before.” 

“What land?” David asks. 

Will narrows his eyes at him, his attention flitting for a moment to Robin, standing right behind the Prince. “I don’t bloody know, it’s a place that no one has ever been,” he practically spits. “Why do you look so familiar?”

David shrugs off the question, trying to go back to the poison. “Did you hear them say anything about the poison they used?” 

This time, Will just shakes his head. After a moment, he adds, "I think they called it Dreamshade, if that means anything to you." 

Everyone around the bed exchanges glances, hoping that it means something to one of them. 

It doesn't. 

Over the next few days, his condition only worsens, the area around what they decide must have been the injection site growing black, with the darkness spreading further up his arm in his veins.  

It takes two days before he is able to move, slowly recovering from his complete paralysis, but no one gets their hopes up. 

It’s a week before he begins to speak, his eyes always set off in the distance and unresponsive to anything or anyone that tries to pull him out of the obvious trance he finds himself in, saying things like, "The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!" or "Half-past one, time for dinner!" in a very excited tone, his words rushed, though often half-whispered.

Or even, sometimes, words none of them even recognized, sung as if part of a poem: "Twas brillig and the slithy toves did gyre and gimbel in the wabe. All mimsy were the borogoves, and the mome raths outgrabe." 

On day 12, he makes eye contact with Emma as she is changing some of his bandages, a crazed expression that covers every inch of his face — and somehow, Emma has the feeling that if he had the strength for it, he would have bolted to sit up straight. 

“Neverland,” he says, his focus on her so intent that it terrifies her for a moment, though she does think this word is just part of another string of nonsense. 

 But then he reaches out to grab her arm, suddenly overcome with a strength none of them would have guessed he could muster in his current state, and starts to speak again, the words coming out almost too quickly for her to understand. “They said it was from a place called-called Neverland, and the little boy was in charge. The-the-the little boy and the prince.”

“David!” Emma calls, not breaking her eye contact with Jefferson, afraid that it would also break the streak of consciousness he seems to have at the moment. “Whale!” 

“The prince, he wanted something that c-couldn’t be cured, and this-this is what the little boy suggested, say-say-saying that no one could ever find the cure  since it's only on an island that no one could-could ever find on their own.” 

“Neverland,” Emma says, thankful for David’s hand heavy on her shoulder, keeping her grounded, needing him to know something about the babble coming from this immensely wounded soldier. 

“An island no one can find,” David repeats, his voice soft. Jefferson shifts his gaze to David, as if realizing for the first time that he is there. 

“The boy t-talked about-about jungles and rivers a-and-and enchanted pools, the only place where-where anyone could f-f-find the cure.” 

He looks away from all of them, his eyes once again set off in the distance, but his grip on Emma’s arm even tighter than before. 

“Neverland,” he repeats one more time, taking a slow breath deep enough that Emma watches the rise and fall of his shoulders. 

And then, as quickly as it started, his hand grows limp on her wrist, and he mumbles, "Why is a raven like a writing desk?", his attention no longer on anything around him as he slips back into madness. 

“That was the only thing he ever said that made sense,” David says, wringing his hands around his cup of coffee as he shakes his head. 

“What happened to him?” Killian asks, his eyes pressed shut as if he is afraid to make eye contact with anyone in the room. 

(He is, fearing that he knows the answer to his own question,)

“He lived for another four days, mumbling nonsense, and then one morning, he just didn’t wake up. Sixteen days.”

Eyes still shut, Killian nods. This was the answer he was expecting, though far from the one he was hoping for deep down. 

“Sixteen days,” he whispers, not needing to open his eyes to know that everyone in the room is focused on him. 

“Sixteen days after he came to the hospital. According to Will, he was at the Nephilim camp with him for at least another two weeks before that.” 

Killian lets out a small laugh, shaking his head. He does finally open his eyes, but the only person in the room he is able to look at is Emma, whose green eyes are full of sympathy, but not sadness. 

He’s thankful for that. 

“So that’s, what, a month? It’s already been a week since I escaped from Pan, a few days longer than that since they first used the Dreamshade on me.”

No one speaks. 

Until: “So, that means we’re going to Neverland now, right?” The question everyone was thinking comes from Mary Margaret, to no one’s surprise. 

Everyone turns to Emma, and the pressure of it all sucks the air right out of her lungs, so she shrugs to give herself a moment to recompose. “I don’t think we have a choice. I’d like to think Killian at least has a fighting chance, from how his wounds have been reacting to my magic. It’s certainly something I’ve never witnessed before, and much different than anything we experienced with Jeff.” 

No one speaks, and Emma takes a moment to look around the room, her eyes landing on Regina last. 

She, unlike everyone else in the room, looks shocked. "What do you mean, how his wounds have been reacting to your magic? " she asks after another moment, her voice both intrigued and slightly scared. 

Emma, in turn, can’t keep her confusion off her face. "You mean your magic didn't react weirdly to his wound?" 

Regina shakes her head, moving slowly towards where Emma still sits next to Killian’s makeshift cot. "Show me." 

So Emma does, conjuring a small light between her hands before focusing on the wound in Killian’s side, where she is able to create the same crackling effect that happened before.

Regina says nothing, her wide eyes unmoving, set on Emma’s hands. Mary Margaret tries to shake her out of her trance, and it takes a minute to work before she turns away from them and rushes back upstairs, still without saying a word, and returning moments later with a small vial of a shining grey liquid, which she hands to Killian. 

"Drink this." 

He raises both eyebrows at her, then looks down at the bottle in his hand. "Pardon?" 

"Just do it." 

When he turns to David, he just shrugs, so he empties the vial into his mouth in a single swallow. Everyone is watching him intently, waiting for something to happen. 

But it doesn't. 

"Do that thing with your magic again," Regina whispers, as if afraid to speak too loudly and break some sort of spell. 

Emma listens, drawing her power up into her hand before focusing on Killian's wound — and this time, along with the crackling and sparking, she is able to pull a viscous black liquid from the wound, though it startles her and she loses focus, so it all disappears. 

Everyone turns their attention to Regina, who just stares wide-eyed at Killian's wound, terror written across her face. "We have to go to the Athenaeum" 

"Are you crazy? I can't go to Nephilysis," David argues, and Killian agrees. 

"There are already enough people looking for us as is." 

"There has to be another way," Mary Margaret tries. 

Regina shakes her head. "No, it's the only place we'll find answers.” She stops, looking down at her wristwatch. “And we need to go now ." 

David huffs. "What do you expect us to do? Just sit around and twiddle our thumbs until you get back?" 

Regina rolls her eyes, but Killian clears his throat. "We could go to the cabin, see if anyone else is there."

This time, David scoffs, his attention on his friend. “Wait, you think we should split up?" 

"That really seems like the only logical plan," Killian replies, obviously not thrilled with the idea, but knowing that it really is their best bet.

"You need to come with me," Regina says, pointing to Emma, who has stayed quiet through all of this. 

After sharing a glance with David, Mary Margaret reaches out to take Emma’s hand in hers. "I'm not letting you go with her alone.”

Regina rolls her eyes again, ignoring the spite in Mary Margaret’s voice. "We have to leave tonight," she says again. 

Emma nods, turning to David. After a moment, he nods, too, turning to Killian. "We shouldn't stay put for too long, either." 

It's a plan — well, more of one than they've had this far. 

"We'll take a week and meet back together before we go to Neverland."

“How do you even get to Neverland?” Mary Margaret asks, looking around the room in hopes of someone having the answer. 

“You have to fly,” Killian says, his voice soft, obviously far away. 

"And how the hell do we do that?" Emma asks. 

Killian smiles. 

TAGS: @shireness-says​​ @cssns​ @kmomof4​ @thisonesatellite​  @teamhook​ @darkcolinodonorgasm​​ @cocohook38​​ @ultraluckycatnd​ @facesiousbutton82​ @hollyethecurious​​ @stahlop​​ @tiguanasummertree  @angellifedeath​​ @pepperpottss​​ @mariakov81​​ @scientificapricot​​ @kday426​​ @xarandomdreamx​​ @ohmightydevviepuu​​ @xhookswenchx​​ @nikkiemms​​ @carpedzem​​ @superchocovian​​ @resident-of-storybrooke​​ @snowbellewells​​ @courtorderedcake​​ @captain-emmajones​​ @killian-whump​​ @officerrogers​​ – want to be added or removed? let me know!

[walviemort]

hidden blessing (2/?)

Summary: Killian thought the only thing he was left with after Milah’s death was a broken heart and a thirst for vengeance. It’s not until he gets to Storybrooke, after so many years spent in stasis, that he discovers something else: he’s carrying her child. How does this new, tiny blessing change his path? (Canon-divergent from 2x12.)

rated T | part 1 | AO3 | 2.2k

A/N: hey! It’s another update! looks like this might be an every-couple-weeks thing, as I find time to work on it. like the first chapter, this is dedicated to @sherlockianwhovian​ for being awesome. hope everyone is staying safe!

A few days later, Killian had been released from the hospital and was finally enjoying a much-needed uninterrupted nap—or so he thought. When he’d first arrived back at the docks, the prince and princess were also there, attempting to interrogate him about Cora’s whereabouts; why this town was convinced he was her babysitter was unknown to him, so he’d had to disavow them of that notion. (It had also become blatantly obvious where Emma had inherited both her violent streak and her impatience; even if the man hadn’t raised her, she was definitely his daughter—and he vowed then and there that such a fate would not befall his child).

He was already tucking himself into bed on his ship when he heard the commotion above deck that told him the so-called heroes had unlocked the cage containing the giant; the sounds of struggle (and what was hopefully the prince being punched) along with ensuing footfalls running off the ship were the last things he heard before sleep blissfully claimed him.

He was dreaming of what his quarters might look like with a crib next to his bed, toys strewn across the floor, when he was rudely awakened—again. What an inhospitable town.

“Hook?” a feminine voice called out from the deck. “I know you’re here.”

“Bloody hell,” he cursed to himself, throwing back the covers and rising as quickly as he could with his still-sore ribs. Getting his pants back on took more effort than he’d like, but that was all he bothered with.

Barefooted and bare chested, he climbed the stairs to see Regina waiting impatiently. “Yes, your highness?” he asked, not bothering to hide either the tiredness in his voice or his annoyance.

“There you are. My mother sent me. You know, the one you were supposed to kill?”

“Oh, that. Well, I didn't want to deprive you of a happy reunion.” His grin was fake and she knew it.

“Well, it's your lucky day. She and I have made amends.”

“And you're here to thank me? How sweet.”

Regina’s responding smile was equally fake. “Not quite. She wants to know if they've found the ship.”

If he’d had his hook, it would have been on her neck for interrupting his nap for what amounted to little more than a business conversation; she just wanted to know what was going on with the giant.

“Is that all?” he asked when he’d given her the update. “Because if so, I’ve really got some things to attend to here.”

“Yes, that’s all,” she said, but tilted her head in curiosity. “I figured you’d be a lot more ready to get your revenge. You’re typically chomping at the bit for some murder.”

“If I could get some bloody sleep, I’d be more ready for that,” he snapped back. 

She narrowed her gaze on him and looked him up and down. He wasn’t sure what she was looking for, but her eyes stopped at his midsection for a brief moment and widened. Instinctively, he moved his arm in front of him, but that might have been a fatal move. 

Her eyes found his again with an uncomfortably knowing smirk on her lips. “I’ll leave you to your rest, then. See you around, Hook.” And with a wave of her hand, she poofed away.

If she knew, he would deal with that later. First things first: back to sleep. (And maybe some food.)

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

After a week of rest, he found his bones were doing much better, though the nausea he’d been dealing with had evolved into full-blown sickness. The pamphlets told him that was normal but it was exceedingly obnoxious. At least his food stores on board were fairly bland.

“I can’t believe you actually enjoy hard tack,” he said to the babe; a different pamphlet told him the baby couldn’t hear him yet, but it was comforting to talk to them—or at least complain.

Much like he’d noticed in the hospital, it was almost whiplash-inducing how quickly he’d rearranged everything in his life to put the child first. But he also knew that, had his life followed a remotely normal trajectory, he and Milah would have done the same. Where he once thought revenge was the only way to honor her, he now knew that protecting and raising this child would be better.

“But, oh love, I wish you were here,” he whispered to the night sky, hoping that wherever she was, she’d hear him.

He read over the pamphlets Doc had given him many times over, until they began to look ragged and he worried they might not make it through the duration of his pregnancy. One listed several books that could be referenced, but given his history with the town librarian—and he being the reason for her current leave of absence—he’d have to make do without them. 

Briefly, he considered seeking out Emma’s help; but based on their last encounter, he doubted she’d give it. Still, though—she was the only one around that had been through all this that he might be able to talk to. Maybe at some point. But not in the immediate future.

One fact remained, though: no child of Killian’s—and especially Milah’s—was safe while the Dark One still roamed free. So once he felt closer to being on the mend, he dug some ginger drops out of storage to hopefully aid the nausea and sought out his would-be allies.

Cora and Regina were deep in discussion when he arrived at the queen’s mansion, but he caught a few key phrases and didn’t care about interrupting. “Where's Rumplestiltskin gone?”

They both jumped at his voice, but were too poised to let it throw them off. “I don't know,” Regina answered tearfully.

A glimmer of hope he hadn’t felt since before the dark curse started to glow again. “Well, if he's left town, then he's powerless. He can be killed.” The ladies went on some diatribe about how they’d lose their magic if they crossed the town line, but he didn’t care. “Well, I don't need magic. I'll go after him alone.”

Regina stood and gave him a look he didn’t like—one that said she knew too much. For a moment, he feared she might out his secret, but thankfully she didn’t. She still lectured, though, “Even if you could find him, do you really think you could just walk to him and stab him in the heart with your sword?”

“Well, I'd prefer my hook, but I can't seem to find that now.”

“You're not going anywhere,” Cora scolded.

“I deserve my vengeance!” he bit out angrily. And, moreso, the security in knowing that his child would grow up safe. The pitying look Regina was giving him told him she at least understood.

Cora didn’t notice, thankfully. “You're right. You do, and with the Dark One gone, we can search for the one magical item that could actually kill him here—his dagger.”

Somewhat ironically, they ended up at the library, searching for...something. Part of him desperately wanted to leave them to their quest and find the recommended books, but much too quickly, Regina discovered the map.

It was easy enough to decipher. But he really should have seen Cora’s betrayal—and subsequent magical assault—coming. 

(At least Regina seemed vaguely apologetic before he was rendered unconscious.)

Whatever. He was more than capable of doing things on his own.

But first—he found those books; hopefully, no one would mind if he hadn’t formally checked them out. (The atlases...well, hopefully no one needed those references anytime soon.)

It took some more surreptitious spying to figure out where the Dark One had gone, and he took more than a bit of pleasure in knocking out the prince to retrieve his hook from storage in the constable’s offices. 

And then he was on his way to whatever this New York City was. He started reading a book called What to Expect When You’re Expecting on the trip there—then locked everything related to childbearing in his private safe on the ship before leaving it. He was confident no one would discover it, but one could never be too careful.

Finding the Dark One was surprisingly easy. 

Stabbing him was thrilling; everything he’d ever dreamed of.

But his fatal flaw was not factoring Emma Swan into the equation, nor the heavy metal canister she threw at his head.

Still, though: he’d stabbed a magicless Dark One with the worst poison known to man; another thing that had been stored in his safe. The last thing Killian saw before slipping into oblivion—again—was his mortal enemy’s prone form, knowing that there was no cure for the venom making its way to his heart.

I’ve done it, love, he thought. He’s done. We can move on. Which “love” that was, he didn’t have time to consider. All he knew was that finally, he could rest, and await whatever came next.

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

He’d been in worse brigs than the one he subsequently found himself in. Having his left arm awkwardly chained to a bed frame wasn’t ideal but the Tamara lass fed him, let him use the lavatory as needed (which he was finding he needed to do with more regularity), even allowed him to bathe every few days. (Out of necessity, she’d also provided him with a bucket for dealing with his bouts of sickness; he wrote it off as withdrawal, and she didn’t question it. Not the first time a reputation as a boozy pirate worked in his favor.)

He was far from a willing prisoner, but she’d hidden his hook and always had her gun at the ready, so there were no smart ways for him to try to stage an escape. Besides, Baelfire—because he was the person Emma and the Crocodile had been searching for—had apparently absconded with his ship back to Storybrooke. (Which brought up all other sorts of memories and thoughts.)

“Don’t worry; I’ll take you back to it,” she promised him. If it weren’t for the fact she was constantly peppering him with questions about Storybrooke, he wouldn’t have believed that it was her destination, too. He was careful to not give much away, though; he doubted her goals were worthy. 

“Just when are you planning this trip? You’ve been saying that for two weeks now,” he had to ask her; he was finally starting to get a bit of cabin fever, and was eager to get back to his ship and chart out a future for him and his babe. 

“When I get the sign. Should only be a couple more days.”

He rolled his eyes and went back to his reading; he was nothing if not a patient man. As long as they left before the child arrived, he supposed it’d be alright. He’d have preferred the books he had on the ship but thankfully, only he had the key to where those were locked away. But reading Tamara’s collection of novels was a good way of learning about this realm. Despite not having actual magic, its advanced technology seemed to make up for it. 

Like the shower. Bloody hell, what a marvel! Tamara had to give him a lesson his first time using it, but what a luxury! (And to think it was a standard amenity here...incredible.) Letting the hot water run over him, cleanse his skin and soothe his aches, was the main thing that made this farcical imprisonment bearable. 

That, and it was in there he noticed the first visible sign of his child. Obviously, he’d been watching his midsection with a keen eye, but any changes seemed to be a long time coming. 

But then, at around 14 weeks, he first saw it: his navel was sticking out ever so slightly. Were it not for his minimal diet, he could have attributed it to normal weight fluctuations; but based on the increasing visibility of his ribs, he knew he was probably losing a bit of weight instead of the opposite. 

Still, his point of view of his stomach from inside the shower wasn’t the most reliable, he knew. But when he stepped out and stood in profile in the looking glass, it confirmed it: his child was starting to make his or her presence known. It still only looked like he’d eaten a rather large meal, but considering he hadn’t...bloody hell. Were it not for his prison guard rapping on the other side of the door for him to hurry up, he could have spent hours there staring at it.

It wasn’t long after that he started feeling the first twitches of movement within, as well. Nothing strong enough to be felt from the outside, of course—he thought it might be gas at first—but once he realized what was going on, it was all he could do to hide the tears of joy from his captor.

But he also found himself periodically plagued with guilt, especially with the revelation of Bae’s presence in this realm. Even so long after, he was still haunted by what he’d done to the boy. It was strange to think, but had things gone differently, they might have had the chance to actually be a family—the lad would have been an excellent big brother. 

That chance was probably long gone now, but it only furthered Killian’s resolve to be there for this one—to not do what either his or Bae’s father had done.

“That won’t happen to you, my love,” he murmured late at night, hand over the tiny bump and the tiny babe, gently fluttering within. “Gods above couldn’t keep me from you.”

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

thanks for reading!! tagging some friends (and let me know if you want a tag!) @cocohook38​ @wyntereyez​ @jennjenn615​ @superadam54​ @ashley-knightingale​ @justsomewhump​

[courtorderedcake]

Hallow : ch xviii - CSSNS 2019

“The Goblin King was prepared to host the Darkness, stealing Fae women away to their corrupted lands underneath the ground as concubines. The Darkness chose another in his stead, but not before this selected vessel enacted a devastating attack in its vengeance, revealing its hatred & rage. The battle was a lesson the old kings had forgotten; never underestimate an opponent.

Many more lives were lost as they razed over any who dared defy The Goblin King’s will. Only the pure love of our rulers united in matrimony, breaking the Vorpal Dagger, sealed the darkness and the Goblin menace away. The light flourished under their fair rule, and the queen bore a child as pure as moon beams, swan feathers, and starlight. They lived happily ever after, and shall be written in history as Heroes for All Time.”

This is the history Princess Emma memorizes from the day she is born, paraded about and presented only with the highest protection. The palace is a cage she wishes to escape, desperately. Not careful what wishes she made, Emma discovers history is written by the victors - The Dark One has an entirely different version of the events that took place.”

Read on AO3 here.

Rated E for explicit themes, Mature situations, and Fae fuckery.

Written for @cssns

Ch 18 / ?? - In which battles almost won are lost.

Emma slept as Killian guided the ship through the portal, and then into the sunlit turquoise waters of a palm tree lined harbor. She had slept the day before in fitful bouts of exhaustion, losing herself in fever as he looked on helplessly, the Darkness snapping its jaws. The black that pooled like ink across her chest had spread, Emma whispering the word parasite in hisses at him between remembering things she shouldn't be remembering. She was hysterical, warning him about 'the parasite', and 'to remember the Dark One', staring at him before begging him for help he could not muster. 

It was clear that he was the cause of Emma's condition, both in action and in reaction to her. His ignorance in not noticing she was sick, throwing away her medicine, listening to the concerns over her cough so they had stayed on the isle for just enough extra time - it all fell on him. 

Alice Jones had been sickly, her disease life long. A spore grew in the dank caves of the Blackwater and its surrounding village, the Ladies Reform Academy, or the Baelfire Hold that caused Lichenlung, a lung disease that took female Fae. The disease itself wasn't deadly, but the fevers caused by weakness generally were. His mother had died from such a fever, her coughing fits and inability to choke down breaths eventually strangling her. He'd studied cures in the Naval academy, his required duties bringing him to the bedside of over two dozen women stricken with the illness. Even Milah had succumbed to it eventually, the message she left him still haunting him. 

Emma sounded and had symptoms like the people he had seen in their last days. He was honestly uncertain that the princess would survive, a thought that thoroughly terrified him and the Darkness. In the secreted corner where he harbored other emotions, terror was an understatement that threatened dire consequences. The Darkness finding he still felt whatever it was that made Emma so much more would break him, and risk it making good on its promises to hurt her. Even as panic gripped the small scrap of light left in him, the Darkness had only just begun to realize its precious shard would disappear. 

How to help her was the issue. The Dark One being loose had most surely made it to places like this . He'd only heard of them in his naval career, been told tales from his Father as a lad when the Blackwater Lord had spared him a glance, and generally been too busy doing the Goblin King's bidding to know too much about his surroundings. But in his understanding of Agrabah's history, it was a blackmarket goods and information brokerage hub. Royalty turned a blind eye on what was good for keeping gold in its coffers and ships in its ports; the thieves, ne'er do wells, and bandits did their best to not rob everyone blind.

He could not bloody well run in the market carrying the Princess of the United Realms in his arms. Were their healers the type to recognize them, or ask questions? Would their ship be inspected? Would he get a knife in his belly or more worryingly, Emma's? Killian didn't have any idea of if they even had healers, or doctors - they knew nothing about the place. It was the blind leading the… 

He found himself at her bedside more than he cared to admit, as if whispering apologies would save her from his spreading filth. As it became clear the waters were placid, he hauled pillows up beside him, laying Emma in the shaded corner. She woke briefly, fluttering her eyelashes against his neck and whispering his name. Steering them into the docks, he threw out his ties to the pier, knotting them with ease. A loud thunk threw off his precision as it reverberated through the planks, Killian on his feet with sword drawn in moments. Two pairs of startled brown eyes looked up at him, Anisapi dressed in embroidered kaftans standing in front of him on a great carpet. 

"We mean you no harm," the first said, his maroon kaftan matching his fez, primate tail whipping back with nervous anxiety. He smiled, or attempted to, but his sharp canines did little to aid his welcome. His voice was slightly scratchy, but it wasn't surprising as he shuffled his body weight between his feet and knuckles. "Our Sultana, may her sight never fail us, summons you to the palace. Come at once!" 

"And who the bloody hell are you, the petting zoo?" Killian flicked his sword upward, motioning for the Anisapi to back away. The monkey scratched at himself, but the jungle predator growled lowly. "I don't know a Sultana. I am here - 

"Be still, Dark One," the larger of the beasts snarled, his whiskers twitching. His eyes were more tawny than the monkey, his orange and black fur bristled in irritation. His large tail flicked wildly, snakelike. "Your lady is in danger. Sultana Jasmine can help your princess."

Killian tried to lunge forward, but the tiger was quick despite its size, pinning him on the deck. 

"How did you -" Killian panted, unable to push off its heavy weight as the Anisapi held him with ease, his paws massive. "How do you know about the princess? Who are -" 

Emma whimpered, Killian turning his head to see the monkey resting its fur covered knuckles against her forehead. 

Thrashing wildly, Killian swore as the monkey reached for her necklace and the shard. "Leave her alone, don't you lay a bloody paw on her  -" 

"Abu!" The tiger Anisapi growled lowly, and the monkey stopped short, pouting. "Don't even think about it. You are in enough trouble as it is." 

"I just wanted to -" The monkey protested, but the tiger snarled viciously. 

"You're upsetting our guests you furry toothpick." 

"To be fair mate," Killian hissed, pressing back against the tiger's hold, "You're the only one who is upsetting me. Get off of me, tell me who you are, and how the hell you knew we were here." 

The tiger's ears pressed lower on his head, but he sprung off of Killian to allow them both to stand. Killian pushed past them to check Emma, the monkey scooting away sheepishly. 

"Our Sultana predicted that you would come, seeking her aid. I am her advisor, Raja." The tiger Anisapi bowed low, his stature even at half height impressive. Emma shivered against him, burying her face into Killian’s warm chest. Raja gestured at the monkey, with a twirl of his claw. "This is her…" 

The tiger exchanged a nervous look with the other Anisapi, before the monkey spoke. 

"I'm her new assistant. Abu, at your service." The monkey winked at Emma with a grin, and she laughed slightly. Turning carefully in Killian’s hold with little noises of protest every so often, he heard her stiff joints creaking from fever. 

All your fault. You made her suffer, you make anyone who you are close to suffer. Imagine, thinking you loved her, or that she could love you! 

You'd destroy her. Ruin her. 

"I'm -" Emma attempted, but could not push any more words past her parched lips. She tried again, but doubled over instead as Killian’s guilt suffocated him without relent. 

Do you think she remembers it was you yet? 

Maybe she won't remember until she takes in her last gulps of air, wouldn't that be poetic? Certainly sounds like our flare for dramatics… 

Imagine her final moments knowing that you were her murderer, the one who she tried so hard to trust. So much for choosing to see you at your best, eh vessel? 

"It's alright. We know who you are, Princess… and we are aware of your companion. The Sultana knew you would be ill. Make haste to the palace, both of you, at once." Raja handed Killian a scroll, Abu unrolling another carpet onto the deck. "We have rooms made up for you both and healers at the ready. Hurry, Dark One."

Abu and Raja moved back to their carpet, which lifted into the air, its gold and royal purple threads shimmering in the sunlight. They sped away towards the city, leaving Emma and him alone again on the deck. She hummed against him, drawing her legs up into his hold before going limp again. 

"I want to go home. I want my mom." Her forehead rubbed against his chest, dampening his shirt. "Please, stay with me. I feel so - please ---" 

Killian couldn't reply, everything caught in his throat or tucked away from the Darkness. Emma didn't seem to notice, to his relief, her eyes fluttering closed. She slept soundly within seconds. Carrying her to the enchanted rug, he pulled her into his lap without comment, noticing how light she had become in only a week's time. 

You knew she wasn't eating, she wasted away in front of you and you knew that it was your fault. You condemned her to die, another reason your love was imagined. You did this to her. You will be her demise. Get the shard, let her - 

"NO!" Killian hissed, the carpet beneath him shuddering to life. It lifted itself, bright reds, oranges and turquoise dancing over the deck. He'd come back and grab their belongings, but for now, Emma needed whatever anyone was willing to give.

It was his hand that had caused this as he squeezed her beating heart, his hands that had tore her from the island, thrown away medicine into the sea, ignored her symptoms, and let her get this bad. 

We get the shard then and we leave, never to hurt her again. She will beg for you to leave her when she learns this is all your fault. The quicker you can get the shard, the better… It would be a shame if she remembered how you crushed her heart with glee. 

Her hair tickled his chin, blowing in the wind as the palace towers appeared. The scroll had been a very easy to follow set of instructions with a map to a far balcony where they would land. Once there, the carpet landed gently on tiled floor, servants appearing in procession. If this was an ambush, it couldn't have been planned better, the group surrounding them against a sheer drop. His neck hair rose, sweat beading there despite his best efforts. The Sultana was draped in blush silks, her dark brown hair seeded with pearls that lay in a golden mesh wrapped plait. She watched Killian warily, eyes darting to Emma as the princess began to wheeze. Taking a deep breath, he hoped beyond measure that they had not fallen into a trap of some kind. 

"She's barely conscious." Killian moved forward, guards raising curved blades to protect the Sultana. "Please, if that's what you brought us here for, the princess needs help." 

The Sultana looked at him, her deep brown eyes narrowing. She stared for a few seconds, blinking with a strange sort of unsure confusion in her eyes before finally straightening. 

"I am the Seer of the Sands, Sultana Jasmine." Jasmine's voice was soft and melodic, accented words clipped with formality. "May my sight be your own, and may we see all."

Her guards lowered their weapons, making the symbol of an eye with their index and middle fingers while muttering some short devotion. Killian glared, grunting at the decorum happening in favor of Emma's health. 

"Great, do you have a healer or help for her, or -" 

"Yes, of course Dark One." The Sultana nodded. "Come, follow me." 

Killian hadn't noticed before, but as he hoisted Emma further against his shoulder, he became aware of why the procession had unnerved him. The Sultana was clearly Fae of some sort, but the group surrounding her was made up of Anisapi, Elves, Fae, Nymphs, Mortals, and more frightening, a few Goblins. His nose wrinkled in disgust as he held Emma tighter to him. 

The Sultana led them nearby, pushing open thick wood doors to reveal a courtyard with a small pool and fountain. A shaded set of chairs were canopied by gauzy linens, with two sets of double doors on the far end. One was open revealing a hallway butted against a balcony looking over the city. The other had linen drapes that blew in the breeze, providing some curtained privacy to another chamber. 

"Down that hallway is your quarters, Dark One. Here," the Sultana opened the first set of doors, motioning Killian to enter, "Is where my Doctors and best healers will treat the Princess Emma."

The room was a polished sand colored marble, bed small but neatly made against a large stained glass window. Strange countertops on wheels were positioned with various bottles and instruments on them, and as Killian eased Emma into the bed he realized that a group of Fae were watching him expectantly in wait. Emma protested weakly when he let go of her to step out of their way, her soft exclaim falling to a sigh when a syringe filled with something the color of mud was injected into her arm. 

"Come." The Sultana linked her arm with Killian’s, his body jolting. She stared deeply into his eyes, ignoring his hatred for her touch, walking him to sit at the pool. "You must have questions, yes? And you must tell us what you know to help save Princess Emma. We must speak."

"Not bloody likely." He wrenched away, pushing back towards where Emma lay still. "What did they just inject her with? I don't care if you're a sodding queen, what are you doing with the princess? How did you know we were coming?" 

"I am Sultana Jasmine, Seer -"

"I know who you bloody are, how did you know!?" 

"If you had listened , rude man in my kingdom, you would know I can see the future. I see its many paths, and I have premonitions. It is how I have kept my Agrabah so safe; the gift of my mother, a Djinn."  She tried to lay a hand on him again, but he backed away, sitting in a corner where he could see Emma clearly. An Elven man with gloved hands was pouring a soft gel over her forehead that glowed a dulled color on contact. Others scribbled notes while a siren carefully peeled away the princess’s sweaty clothes with care, laying down a blanket of sheer silk. The Sultana cleared her throat expectantly, and his eyes flicked back to her with annoyance. 

"A Djinn?" he asked, incredulously. Djinn did not have offspring as far as he knew; they were born of chaos or created. 

"Yes. The premonitions are the reason I knew you would come." The Sultana hesitated, watching him carefully. He stared back, trying to ignore the Darkness and remain impassive. "If you had not come, the princess would have died in three days time. Here, you have a better chance, in the paths I saw."

The news brought an onset of instant relief and elation. He couldn't hide from the Sultana or the Darkness how happy it made him to know Emma would be alright, his words tumbling out without care. 

"So you know she will be healed, and what the future holds -" 

"Oh, God's no." The Sultana laughed, the sound lilting. 

You pathetic simpleton. Your princess is as good as dead, and all thanks to you. 

  "No…?" 

"We will do our best to help her, and she should recover." 

"Ah." He swallowed hard. 

"The paths I see are infinite, and I can only see so many. Like branches on a tree, I can see which direction the limbs go, or how large the tree is from a glance. It's when I need to see the branches and leaves that causes me to focus. You can only take in so much. So no, but I saw some outcomes, and what we are doing now will help prevent what negative outcomes I can." She smiled softly, her brown eyes warm. 

"How can we know that you are trustworthy?" Killian asked, leveling a cold glare at her. Her smile didn't waiver, but grew wider. 

"I suppose you can't, but if we wanted you dead, I have plenty of viper poison at my disposal that could kill you in mere minutes. Since you don't seem to be able to die according to the legend, it would be a painful way to suffer in unending agony, that's for sure." The Sultana shrugged, with a wink. "I suppose we will have to have faith in each other, yes?" 

He nodded slightly, and the Sultana turned, taking her leave. 

After an hour or so of watching different concoctions poured over Emma and watching countless Fae or Elementals write notes, he excused himself to his room. A dwarf with a shocking cobalt beard and studded eyebrows dragged in a large wash basin, not spilling any of the steaming water within. He grunted at Killian, dropping a few bottles and a large towel on a table before leaving. Without a second thought, Killian stripped to dip himself in the tub. The water was hot enough to pink his skin, but the heat felt right in the airy room as he scrubbed himself raw. 

Eventually, Killian felt his thoughts slip to Emma, marveling briefly how well Jasmine and she would get on, even though he had only just met Agrabah's ruler. Of course, Emma loved everyone, because she was too trusting, too bloody good for her own well-being. The Sultana though, seemed genuine. She seemed caring. A person who Emma would find a kinship with. 

If she survives to meet her. 

He buried his head in the steaming water, wishing he could rinse the Darkness and the doubt that ate away at him clean. 

  *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

  The Darkness did not let him rest as the hours crept past, plaguing him with all manner of its devices, his teeth grinding as he tried to ignore it. It was easy enough to enjoy the heated water, the silks, the fresh fruit and drink that seemed to appear without end as servants politely knocked to leave tray after tray, even with the whine of it in the back of his head. But the unfamiliar feeling of wrong was wearing on Killian’s last nerve. It felt empty, as if the color was muted or his senses were dampened. 

Your senses are as sharp as ever, you delusional idiot. 

Killian chewed slowly on a date, trying to place the feeling while battling with the nasally voice. When he ignored it too long, it fell back on another of its old stand-by irritants sure to get a rise. 

“You’re the picture of a Lord now, Killian. The Blackwater family name lives on as a Jones.”

He choked slightly, his father’s voice echoing in his mind, the sneer on the man’s face as he glared across his desk flashing in his memories. Brennan Jones, surrounded by stacks of papers in his paneled study. Surrounded by his portraits of their ships, the Jones men of the Blackwater fighting war after bloody war for whoever was warring with who, at the expense of anyone but the royals themselves. Survival was guaranteed at a certain level of nobility, his father all but too happy to have two fit lads he could send away to gain glory while he bought or sold ships of lesser born men. Alice Jones had fought to keep Liam and Killian from the truths of their worth and the world for as long as she could. They had always had her love, and her support.

When she had died, it was like the colors of the world had muted where there was light, allowing Liam and him to see what they hadn’t before. In the shadows, the truth stalked. It bore down on them as they grew - Liam into the serious next in line Lordling that fought with Father over lives lost or cut corners, and Killian, who hid his hatred poorly but was the easier target. Liam couldn’t be everywhere at once. 

Brennan Jones, the master of all things in the Blackwater dominion, was keenly aware of Liam’s every limitation. He was more aware of Killian’s.

“Come now, m’boy. Waiting hand and foot on a Princess, and in the harem den of a Sultana feeding on sunned fruits - You spat on such futures when I presented them to you. You wonder why there is no color, no vigor in your blood… Your answer, is it hard to swallow?”

He threw away the fruit in disgust, the cruel laugh of his father a bellowing echo in his brain. Opening the doors to bring more air into his suffocating suite, he nearly ran headlong into a brightly colored mass of feathers. It squawked in surprise, raising arms ending in long plumess, the red and blue flashing in the light. 

“I’m - My Lord I -” A platter of something clattered to its bird taloned feet, as it stared at him with beady eyes over a mouth that tapered into a beak. More bird than Fae, but not an Anisapi, the reptilian skin and strange stature was wrong. The creature took a step back, its ears poking out under its crest, and the pieces clicked together. 

A spy, a snake, sent to watch you! 

“Why are you here?” Killian snarled, kicking the tray out of the way, the Goblin flinching back further. “Who sent you? Did you think I wouldn’t recognize poison?”

Kill it! Kill it, and kill - 

“My Lord, the kitchens - I simply work in the kitchens, my name is Iago -” The Goblin moved to grab the tray, but Killian was on him faster, wrenching his wing behind the creature’s back. “Please - I - what have I done, my Lord?”

Raja appeared from where Emma’s room lay, to Killian’s relief, moving towards them with purpose.

“This thing tried to -” Killian thrust the Goblin forward , twisting its feathered arm to turn it.

Raja cut him off, roughly tackling Killian to the floor. “Iago, did this Fae hurt you?”

Kill them ALL vessel, get the shard, take it and leave nothing but broken - 

“No, no, Raja sir, I don’t -”

“Did I hurt IT ?” Killian roared, staring in disbelief. “That bloody fucking Goblin -”

“Has been in the service of the kitchens here, since before your enemy was born.” Raja growled lowly. “He served the past Sultan and the Divining Light of the Desert Oasis, the Sultana Aura. He now serves the Seer of the Sands, Sultana Jasmine, and will serve her until the day her sight should ever fail us, forbid it to happen. He is no enemy of yours, Dark One, or your Princess.”

"Do it, do as I command, son! You worthless, whining, awful child. Do it. Liam would have! Liam had honor! He should be alive instead of you."

Killian only grunted in return, Raja standing quickly and offering a large paw. He swatted it aside, glaring at the trembling Goblin as he stood. 

“Do not send it up here again,” he hissed. The Goblin looked helpless, and Raja scowled. 

“He will, or your princess will no longer have me as her guard,” Raja rumbled out, his dark eyebrows raising in challenge as he bared his teeth. “Your choice.”

Killian gritted his teeth, glancing between the two.

“Please let him stay, Killian.” Emma’s soft whisper was barely audible, but his gaze immediately snapped to look at her. She leaned against the door to her room further up the hallway, the wind blowing the gauzy white curtains behind her. Still pale and flushed, when she stumbled slightly, both Iago and Raja were by her side within moments. 

"You are pathetic. Even Liam knew it, he told you he never cried when he took your lashes because he knew that you would never be anything more than a nuisance if you knew the truth."

“Princess, you shouldn’t -” Iago said softly, his Feathers bristling. 

"Everyone knew you were pathetic, but Liam took the brunt of it so you could try and be something worthwhile. You failed everyone so completely, and now you can't even protect the key to your freedom resting on that chain."

“Iago, you promised me you would help with my dreams,” Emma moaned slightly as they helped her back through the doorway, the curtains tangling around her slightly. “I want you to stay. You are fine, like none of the Goblin folk I have ever met. Please, please don’t stay away. Killian should have been told - ”

"You could take it, you could make someone get it for you. You won't though, will you, son? You know she's going to die because of you. You don't have to be a failure this time, this time you could be free!" 

“He attacked an innocent staff member because he is garbage specist scum,” Raja gritted out, Emma shaking her head emphatically in disagreement. “Iago could have been hurt -”

“I’m fine Raja, really,” Iago insisted. “My wing is fine, I was just surprised. Let’s drop it.”

“I don’t trust that thing, Emma,” Killian hissed. Raja stood taller, squaring his shoulders, but Emma raised her chin.

"She should not trust you. No one should."

“Leave us,” she whispered. Raja and Iago bowed quickly, leaving with a few of her medical team who were watching with confusion. Killian watched her slow movements, his fingers twitching when her hand rubbed hard against the column of her throat. 

Get the shard. 

"Yes, m'boy, get the shard. Get it and you will have everything you ever want."

"Well,” she said with a tired sigh, settling into her cot. She looked exhausted, but he noticed that more unsettling was her irritation with him. “Hey. I know we haven’t - I know we haven’t spoken in a while, but... Can you stop pissing off the staff and abusing them? It’s not exactly making an unpleasant stay anymore pleasant."

She coughed, looking at him pointedly. 

"Nothing has been pleasant with her around."

"Fine,” he grumbled. She nodded and laid back, with a sigh of relief.

“Now… Good morning. Are you alright? I had wondered if you left. I hadn’t seen you in so long.” 

We should have left. We should have taken the shard and -  

Killian scratched behind his ear, frowning.  “Good morning, Princess. If I leave I’ll say my goodbyes to you beforehand, but I - I haven’t made any plans,” he admitted, quietly.  “How are you feeling?"

"Honestly?" Emma whispered, her voice a dry and shrill echo of her normal honey timbre. "Like shit."

Good. Let her perish. Once we get the shard, that is. 

"You must be feeling somewhat better to forego your usual regal manner of speaking," he teased. 

“You are one to talk. What you did - Killian, I can’t -” She pinched the bridge of her nose before violently wheezing into another coughing fit. “I’m so mad at you right now, and I don’t have the energy to be mad. Why? Just -”

“That thing is a Goblin! That’s why!” Killian interrupted, looking at her with disbelief. 

“Just, can you please give him a chance?” When he didn’t answer, she shook her head sadly. “I’m so tired, and I can’t… I can't keep fighting with you. I can't have this dynamic anymore…” Trailing off, he felt a heaviness in his chest, the ache becoming more common. Was he sick as well?

"What is wrong with you?" 

“I said - I said fine! Fine.” He shrugged. “Fine, it’s sodding fine. It’s your bloody funeral.”

“Would you show up to my funeral, just to say I told you so?” Emma chuckled lightly, but he didn’t return her smile. 

“Depends on the menu you serve,” Killian replied dryly, shrugging. She smiled slightly, looking at him expectantly. His frown deepened as he carded his hand through his hair. “I’m just worried for you, and I -”

“I’ve been more worried about you,” Emma stated without irony. The Darkness scoffed in his Father's voice. 

She hummed, eyes closing and a cough rattling her chest. "You've been acting weird, and not just because I'm sick. This whole fight, this attack, how awful you've been lately to me and anyone else crossing your path… It’s not the you I know. I thought honesty and a little bit of snark -" Emma broke into more hacking, taking deep gulps of air. She reached for his hand, but he snatched it away, making a point of not looking at her directly after he saw her face fall. 

This is why you must leave! 

"I'll go get you some more water." He stood, dusting himself off. The ache in his chest was sharper, coupled with a feeling of shame. The Darkness tried to press at him to be angry, to attack her again, to insult and belittle her as he had done on board the ship but he refused. 

"No, wait - please stay, don't leave me here alone already." Emma reached out for him, but he walked away briskly towards a servant. She started coughing again, the steady decline of her health making it harder for her to breathe. "Killian, please?" she whimpered, but he rounded the corner as fast as he could get away from her. It wasn't the first time he had fled from her as she fought whatever illness had taken hold. 

His room sat behind her own, the walk out of the wing putting him in full view of where she rested. It had worried him at first, the open air home to the wind, pests, and sand, but a caregiver had eased his thoughts by mentioning a protective spell around the room. Emma seemed eased by the breezes, which had given way to his taciturn reluctance to be anywhere near where she was. Several times she had called out for him, once even attempting to follow after him until she stumbled into the arms of a nurse. 

When they were forced into conversation by Jasmine's crafty handiwork, Emma continued to question him about what came to pass in their shared dream. She was remembering more and more, specific details that made him squirm in his seat. She believed wholeheartedly they were simply dreams, but as they continued he caught her glances at him more and more. Her lingering looks, the blush in her cheeks that she tried to will away with a bite to her lip, the soft tone she said his name in - it all was entirely too much to be close to. 

It was as if his body wanted her desperately, her closeness addicting, but the Darkness and his common sense screeched at the reaction. Running from her was cowardice, but necessary. 

He spent time wandering the stalls of the market, numbly taking in the scents of foreign spices and the colors of vibrant silks. 

Get the shard and leave. Run away to freedom, take your life back from the hands of the weak Princess. Leave her behind. You're doing her a favor by abandoning her before we break her. 

The Darkness chattered non stop, its grating voice a low hum in the front of his mind. Deeper, there was an echo that he clung too, even if it was in whispers. It pointed at emerald pendants that caught the light, sparkling at him, and the patterns embroidered in the clothing the Agrabah people favored, hung on display. Golden swans swimming in unfurled blooms across damask and silk, a jeweled veil that went along to match made him pause, his fingers sliding along the fabric of their own will. 

"Pretty silks for a pretty woman in your life, yes?" The shopkeeper grinned, eyeing Killian with narrowed eyes. 

"No, I'm afraid I don't have -" 

The shopkeeper scoffed, swatting at his hand with annoyance. "Then look with your eyes, and begone."

He blinked at the man's bluntness, turning away with a snort of laughter. Emma would have loved this. If she were here, she would have charmed the man into giving her the bloody outfit for free, just because that was the beauty of who she was - 

The Darkness whined louder, as if it could sense his weakness. He fled, not to his ship where he had once felt nothing but comfort - no, that was filled with her too, her smell, her laughter; the bed was still a twisted mess of covers from where she had lain ill. He could see her there, or worse still, the images of them together, curled around each other in a gentle doze. Being there was like a candle being smothered, the air taken from every space. 

It took a few days of wandering, but he found a makeshift place to rest away from the palace that suited him. It had been, or was, a home of some vagabond at one point, cloth rags curtaining what had once been a wall, a full view of the palace and sky, while broken produce crates had been placed to use as shelves. A threadbare rug lay on the dusty floor, next to a straw pallet. 

Killian did not use the bed, instead sitting on the edge of the wall, looking out over the view as he tried to lose himself. 

"Who are you and what are you doing here?" 

The voice startled him, his head whipping around to see the man approaching him cautiously. He was dark haired, a true shock of it that was swept back in a messy swipe, his large brown eyes regarding Killian with a wary curiosity. 

"Sorry mate. Don't want trouble if this is your spot; just liked the view," Killian said evenly, not moving save to gesture at the palace. 

The man nodded, moving to sit across from Killian, producing two apples from his pocket. He threw one at Killian, who caught it easily. 

"It is one heck of a view," he said simply. After a long moment of silence, he spoke again. "Do you think that the people who live there are happy?" 

Killian tilted his head, looking out at the gleaming towers of the palace, and taking a bite of the apple. Chewing slowly, he swallowed hard without looking at the man. "No. I don't think there is much true happiness to be found there." 

More silence followed, both men eating their apples. It was broken again by the stranger. 

"Name is Aladdin, by the way." 

"Killian."

"It was nice to meet you, but a word of warning. Trouble is coming for those in the palace - and they deserve every bit of it. You're new here. Stay clear if you know what's best for you." Aladdin wiped his fingers on his patched pants, and Killian frowned. 

"Fair advice, but not very specific," Killian mused, shrugging off his frown before slouching back with false amusement. "What if I like getting into trouble? Is it worth my time to go seeking some fortune in their golden coffers?" 

Aladdin narrowed his eyes, jaw jutting up slightly. Anger rippled across his face. "No. No treasure," he said, the words dripping venom. His anger seemed to dissipate as he frowned, staring at the dirty floor. "There isn't anything there for a common thief of a street rat."

"Then tell me what is worth stealing, if you aren't part of the usual riff raff." Killian smirked. 

Aladdin hesitated, his earlier energy gone. 

"I won't know until tomorrow. I get the orders, and then I grab the object." He scratched his head, adjusting his fez cap. "I just know that any chance I get to punish the Royals is a chance I'm willing to take. The Sultana is heartless. She's a diamond that blinds you before cutting you into ribbons."

Killian arched an eyebrow. "It rather sounds like you and this Sultana are more than intimately acquainted."

Aladdin glared, turning red in his cheeks. "She's much too grand for someone like me," he hissed out. 

Killian nodded slowly. "Fine, I'll stay out of your way. I hope the job is worth it."

"When we're done, it will be." Aladdin grinned. 

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Days passed slowly as Emma begged for company, particularly his. The Sultana and her had taken to each other as soon as Emma began to improve, giggling together as he passed, eating meals together, or talking long into the evenings. Jasmine exerted pressure on him to join them, but Killian dodged her with a practiced finesse he hadn't used since the days before Milah, escaping his father's rages. 

The Darkness still slithered in his mind relentlessly, bouncing back and forth between the voice of his captor the Goblin King, and his accursed father. The lack of rest coupled with the descriptions of his mother or a gory ending to Emma's life in Brennan Jones tongue was enough to turn Killian’s insides. 

It's fitting you lose every woman in your life to tragedy, isn't it? All three, sickened into an early grave. 

"Luckily, your mother never lived to know what you become. You would have her blood on your hands as well."

His mother had died so much like this, her frail body lost among the bedding as a healer sat nearby. 

Killian was beyond relieved at the absence of everyone in the palace upon his return, when he saw the princess hobbling towards him in the hallway with a determined look in her eyes. He tried to find an escape, but beyond leaping out of the window, there were none. She bared down on him, menacing even as he took in her exhausted countenance. 

"We," she gestured between the two of them, "Have a meeting in 5 minutes." 

Killian shook his head. "I don't think - I'm unavailable for any sort of counsel. I'm sorry -" 

Emma cut him off, with an annoyed wave of her hand. "Jasmine has been turning away suitors, and she mentioned that she was housing a sick woman with no known cure. Now, my life is tied to Jasmine's hand in marriage." Her voice broke slightly, but she was quick to cough, looking at him with hard eyes as her words dropped with wry, unhappy sarcasm. "You know, just royal things."

"The Sultana did what?" he hissed, anger beginning to course through him steadily. " Bloody hell , Emma, we need to -" 

"I tried . Jasmine is bound by the law here, and I am bound by… I need a cure. These suitors of hers may have something that can rid me of this. One of them says he knows what this illness is." She pointed to her chest. "The healers Jasmine has blessed us with can keep treating the symptoms of this, but not for long. I - There's nothing else that can be done. I need a cure, and quickly."

"This doesn't concern me, or you. We will stay here while they -" 

"Killian, you're not understanding me. I have no other options. This - this is a last resort that I'll be lucky to have work." Emma bit her lip, looking downcast. She did not meet his gaze as his rage grew into a panicked fury. 

Swallowing hard, she wrapped her arms around her frail frame. "We need to talk, Killian. I've tried - The treatment isn't going to do much more than make my symptoms better until it doesn't. I don't have a lot of hope at this point." The last sentence was whispered, and she closed her eyes before wiping away wetness. "I wanted your input. The situation here just didn't, well, pan out… Therefore, I have named you as my second. Should I die, you will be the shard's owner."

You've killed her, vessel of mine. Maybe I was wrong about your usefulness after all! You've freed us, and the United Realms will fall for it. 

"Your vengeance is finally within sight." 

Killian struggled to breathe, the Darkness triumphantly purring in his mind. The secreted feelings he held close burned, disbelief at the possibility that he might lose her, that he was the cause of her death, of her pain. He stared at her, trying to focus on her words. 

"Jasmine has helped me prepare all the documents that will be needed if Fae law ever returns to the realms." Emma pointed to the space on her chest where the shard had laid, its long chain empty. The absence of the silvery pendant was as jarring as the black bruise-like tinge of her skin underneath. 

WHERE IS OUR SHARD!? 

WHERE HAS THE SICK, SPENT, BITCH PUT IT!? 

The Darkness screeched in many voices at once, each enraged as his eardrums pounded inside his skull. His fingers balled into fists, the urge to bruise, to make Emma suffer for this crushing him under its weight. He couldn't, he would never - 

FIND IT FIND IT FIND IT AND PUNISH HER. FIND IT AND MAKE HER PAY - 

"You gave it to someone else!?" Killian growled as he moved closer, dwarfing her. She took an uncertain step back, her breathing catching in her throat. 

Emma gasped slightly, but choked out an answer with wide eyes. "It's alright. I trust the safety of it. Please -" 

"You trust - You trust ?" Killian laughed darkly, grinning at her with a malicious sneer. "When has your trust ever been worth a bloody damn? Your trust is meaningless, your faith is worth nothing, and now you have forced me to follow by your side if I want my freedom."

RIP HER APART, GET THE SHARD!

"I made the deal, I need the cure. I am sorry, but you have to trust me on this. I wanted to discuss it, but…" She pleaded, but he refused to hear any of it. The Darkness rose like a tidal wave, furthering every bit of him that sparked with hatred. "It's done. I need you to know my funerary needs, just in case the cure fails, but first we have to meet these suitors - "

"I don't care, Princess. When are you going to understand that I don't want to be here? We aren't friends, I am not doing this out of good will or kindness like your naivete expects. I want to be free of you," he snarled, watching her shrink into a coughing fit. "Does it please you to leash me, Princess? Do you relish in having your faithful pet at your beck and call? I don't want to have your blood on my hands, by tether or not, but if you insist, I will make sure that you regret it." 

"Killian, please, I -" 

  "THAT'S IT, M'BOY.

MAKE HER SUFFER."

"I don't want to be your second. I wouldn't want to be your fifth, or even your sixty-third!" Killian spat, his anger pouring out of him. His father's voice taunted him relentlessly, egging him on, and he could barely think over its noise. Something quieter tugged at him too, begging him to stop. It begged him to look at her tearstained face, and her clear horror as her hands rose to cover her mouth in shock. At the way she flinched back when he moved, or made a gesture, obviously in fear. He ignored it, lashing out as his father laughed. "You are an absolutely infuriating and insufferable companion; once you are healthy, you will give me the shard, we will end this alliance, and you will never see me again."

Emma stood in stunned silence for a long moment as he panted, before giving a short, barely there nod. 

"As you wish," she whispered, finally meeting his eyes. They were nearly as bloodshot as his own as she trembled. 

THE PRINCESS DESERVES THIS.

The smallest, barely there whisper was almost drowned out completely as it cried, trying to get him not to listen. 

The Princess does not deserve any of this, or any of this rage. She's scared of you. You hurt her . 

You caused this. You . 

"Now, where the sodding fuck are these suitors? The sooner we get this finished, the better," he seethed, Emma pointing in silence to a set of double doors with thick golden inlay. He pushed them open forcefully, coming face to face with a familiar man dressed in traditional finery.

"Ah, Dark One. Princess." Jasmine gestured from her throne for them to approach. A group of men stood before her, giving bows as Emma was helped to a smaller chair next to Jasmine's, Raja gesturing at him to move so that Killian stood by her side. The men drew closer beckoned by Raja as he stood in front of his Sultana. 

"The kingdom of Camelot has demanded the laws of the open palm be laid out, here forward," Raja boomed out. "The offer stands at a cure for the mystery illness plaguing her guest, given with an open palm, in return for the Sultana's hand in marriage. One by one, please present yourself. Tonight we dine together, and tomorrow you will begin seeking a cure. If the guest is injured, made worse, or dies from a proposed cure, the offer is void. If the guest dies before a cure is found, the offer is void."

"Thank you, Raja," Jasmine stated robotically. Her face was solemn, no hint of any emotion. 

Raja nodded, then set his sights on the first of the four men. 

The first was tall, and somehow sinewy, his fingers long around a golden cane shaped like a snake. His deep, wine and dark garnet robes were elaborately lined in golden embroidery that made his dark skin and eyes seem to glow as if lit by embers. 

"I am Jafar." He bowed low, the deep plum jewel in his tall turban glinting in the light. "I was the vizier of this kingdom at one time, and helped the queen navigate life with her Djinn powers. I have come to seek a place for my wisdom once more."

Jafar's thick, syrupy voice made Killian want to shudder, but what was more unnerving was that the man had spared no glance to his would be bride, or Emma. Jafar had leveled his gaze straight into Killian’s own, blinking slow, and never looked away even as his lips curled into a smirk. 

Killian tore his eyes away with difficulty as the next man began to speak. He was dressed in a grey and blue chiton, the silver clasps accentuating his pale skin, red hair, and matching the ice of his pinched glare at Emma. 

"I am Hades, named for the God and blessed by him to rule the Southern Hills. I conquered the Amazons, defeated the monsters this world let loose, and I alone tamed the great Titans of the old world until they grew too willful. I crushed them, and will crush anything in my path with ease should I gain your foresight." He knelt, dragging his glare from Emma to stare up at Jasmine. "You may not be my Persephone, but you will be a beautiful prize, hard won."

A knight dressed in leather studded mail bowed low next, dark hair and cheerful eyes matched by a blinding smile. He looked between both Jasmine and Emma with a prideful grin. 

"I am Arthur, the reason we are all here, King of Camelot, Holder of the Sword of Pure Truth, given to me by the spirit of Lake Nostros. I come to ask for either of your hands in marriage." Emma visibly tensed, and Killian swallowed back the urge to glare. "I am in need of a queen who loves her people, her kingdom, and her king. I thought I had that once, but betrayal and hardship is not unknown to any of us. I hope to not only heal you, Princess Emma, but potentially bring you or the beautiful desert diamond Sultana Jasmine happiness. You both deserve it, along with the utmost peace."

Arthur's eyes flicked to Killian briefly, and there was a glimmer of something that felt dishonest and unclean. It was gone so quickly it had to be imagined as Killian looked at the last man once more. 

His dark shock of hair was laid under a turban, the bright peacock feather in it held on by a glittering plum jewel. His face was familiar, large dark eyes and long eyelashes full of mirth and trepidation, as if he didn't quite belong. Killian looked harder, trying to place him. Was he a courtier? No, that couldn't be. Had he been in the market? The realization hit him, putting him immediately on edge. Aladdin winked at Killian in his disguise, as he purred out an introduction.

"I am Shah Ali of Ab'dua," Aladdin smirked up at the three of them. "And I will easily win your heart, as well as cure the Princess Emma. It's an absolute pleasure to meet you both."

[thestraggletag]

Darkly Intriguing, Chapter 9

Rating: E (chapter rating PG)

Summary: (OUAT/Addams Family crossover) Belle French, antiques book dealer and restorer, find herself befriending and odd but compelling couple, Gomez and Morticia Addams. It is while she restores the family library that Cousin Rumple first stumbles into her, and the sparks are immediate. But the deeper Belle goes into the strange world of the Addams’s the more worried friends and family members grow.

Trigger warning for depictions of forced psychiatric committent.

For @iguessifinallygotone, who prompted “more Darkly Intriguing”.

She didn’t recall drinking too much the day before. It had been a boring Thursday night and she’d closed up the diner, after which she’d gone to her room and watched some forgettable war movie before falling asleep on her bed. Nothing that accounted for the pounding headache or the general air of ickiness she felt. 

“Good morning, Miss Ruby. Would you care for some water?”

She opened her eyes, trying to blink the blurriness away. When she could finally focused she spotted a small, serious-looking child, dressed a bit like a kid from a Victorian horror movie and holding a glass of water with a straw. It was then that she realised she was tied to a chair.

“Hey, what the f- what the hell, kid?”

She did not recognise her surroundings. They were in what looked like a dungeon of some sort, dark and appropriately dank. 

“Please, you mustn’t hurt yourself. This will be over soon.”

“Not exactly a reassurance, shorty.” She coughed, her throat feeling scratchy. “Okay, make with the water, kid, and with the explanations. Starting with your name.”

“My name is Baelfire Addams. And I wish to enquire after the whereabouts of Miss Belle French. You two are friends, I believe.”

There was something strangely charming about the child’s old-fashioned speech-patterns, but she did not let it distract her from trying to wiggle her hands free.

“Look, kid, is this about your dad? He’s dating Belle, right? Did they have a fight or something? Adults sometimes do that, sweetie.”

Belle had seemed happy, truly happy for the first time in a while, since she’d started dating an Addams. And though Ruby felt uneasy about it she trusted Belle’s judgement. Something she might have to reconsider, in light of recent events. There was quaint behaviour, there was strange behaviour and then there was outright criminal action. And the rotten apple was unlikely to have fallen far from the twisted tree.

“No, ma’am, they didn’t. They were happy. And then she suddenly went away. My father was told she went to visit and aunt in Australia but I don’t believe it.”

She was about to demand he untie her and also stop calling her ma’am when his words sunk in. Belle was gone? She hadn’t told her anything about going away. They were best friends, sisters from different mothers, she wouldn’t just up and leave without at least texting her. And besides-

“Belle doesn’t have an aunt. Her old man’s an only child, thank God. And she wouldn’t just up and disappear. The only time she did was years ago when her fa-”

Oh, no. He wouldn’t dare, surely. Not again. Besides, Belle was an adult. Surely no one would disregard her basic rights.

“Oh, that fucking self-righteous bitch totally would.”

She winced at the cursing a second later, but the kid, Baelfire, barely blinked. She leaned forward and caught the straw being offered, taking a few deep pulls of cold water. Her mind worked overtime, trying to come up with any scenario other than the one she was imagining it. But nothing else would account for Belle’s radio-silence, or Moe fucking French inventing excuses for her absence. She made a list in her head of steps to take.

“Belle’s in trouble, kid. Gonna need you to untie me pronto.”

She barely flinched when the child took out a bowie knife out of fucking nowhere and went behind her back to cut the ropes. She was too busy trying to think what her options were. Telling Granny wouldn’t help much, other than garner moral support. Emma, out of everyone, was the one with any power to do anything. But she would be constrained by the law, and the way she figured whatever she could do could take weeks, if not months. Mother Superior was a well-connected woman, after all, and a clever one. She would drag things on for months, at best. And fuck that.

“Okay, kid, I think I know where Belle is but if we’re gonna get her out of there we’re gonna need a whole lotta luck, a helping and a massive distraction.”

The boy smiled, helping her up from the chair.

“We got both of those. Come on, cousin Wednesday must be getting impatient.”

.

Cousin Wednesday turned out to be a lovely, though sombre, little girl with long black hair, pale skin, a can of gasoline and a book of matches. Her brother Pugsley was much more social and seemingly less of a fire hazard. And they were accompanied by an actual walking hand Ruby tried very hard not to stare at as she drove her red convertible towards Saint Eunice, the charity-run psychiatric hospital three hours away. It was run by the nuns of the nearby convent, and was the pride of the local community. It was spearheaded by Mother Superior, a demure and humble figure that scared the bejeesus out of Ruby, even as a child. Even before she’d done what she did to Belle.

The plan, as they devised on the way there, was frightfully simple: they would locate Belle, create a distraction and extract her with no one being the wiser.

“Thing is the best tracker there is, and he knows Miss Belle’s smell.”

“Of course he does.”

They parked near enough to have a good view of the facilities, and it was then that Ruby noticed a sleek Bently pulling up behind them. A mountain of a man got out, dressed like a corpse with the skin to match.

“That’s Lurch. He’ll do the extraction once the diversion is in place.”

In the interest of plausible deniability the waitress pretended not to notice Puglsey get out of the car with a bolt cutter, the walking hand scurry inside the hospital, or the little girl wander into the back of the facilities with her can of gasoline and her matches. Nothing happened for the longest time and she was almost at the end of her current Spotify list when she smelled something burning. Soon one side of the structure was visibly on fire, plumes of dark smoke dispersing into the air. She caught the faint sound of a fire alarm and soon women in nun habits, doctors and patients were being evacuated into the gardens. She tried not to focus on how haggard the later looked, how thin and out of sorts. Belle had been gone only for a few days, it wasn’t like last time.

A fire truck siren blared in the distance, starting Ruby out of her morose thoughts in time to notice the two Addams cousins running back towards the car, the hand creature perched on the boy’s shoulder. The hulking man trotted beside them, carrying a bundle that looked human-shaped. Belle-shaped.

“Oh, thank God.”

“We will take it from here, Miss Ruby. You must go home so no one will think you involved. I will take Miss Belle to my aunt and uncle’s, she’ll be safe there. She’ll call you as soon as she can, I promise.”

“You’re the politest little criminal I’ve ever met, kid. Please take care of her. And don’t let her father near her.”

He hopped out of her car, looking incredibly unruffled by the general chaos and mayhem around him. She watched him climb into the Bentley before it sped off, and took a second or two to pause and compose herself before she took out her cell and called her grandmother. Granny would give her hell for leaving her tending to the diner mostly alone for the entire day, but if it came to it she would die maintaining she’d been in the kitchens the entire day to whoever came asking.

.

It wasn’t the first time he was asked to supply potions and ointments from his own supply to his cousin. His children got into all sorts of colourful, character-building trouble that they couldn’t get out off scot-free, though it was mostly Lurch the one that got stuck with the consequences. At least this time he hadn’t been asked to supply an entire arm, like the time where Pugsley had miscalculated the reach of his “controlled explosion”.

Sure enough the moment the butler opened the door he spotted scorch marks on his clothing. He also appeared to have singed his eyebrows off completely.

“Well, it doesn’t look as bad as the time Fester brought the children souvenirs from his trip to Ukraine. No radioactive burns this time, at least. Nothing that a little bit of ointment and a few of Grandmama’s leeches won’t cure.”

Certainly nothing worth making him drag his potion collection over. Perhaps a rouse to get him out of his house, get him socialising again. Gomez had tried a hundred excuses to force him out of the comfortable nest of isolation and misery he had built for himself. He did not appreciate having been fooled into getting clean and debatably sober, but as the request had come from Morticia he had been inclined to distrust it less. Usually she was more respectful of his dark moods.

“Ah, cousin, so good of you to come.” Morticia appeared at his side almost out of thin air, slipping a hand on the crook of his elbow to guide him further into the house, in the general direction of the glass house.

“Can’t say I appreciate being lied to, dearie. But at least  I would have thought you’d want to cling to appearances and let me see to your manservant.”

“Mama has seen to Lurch. He’s been bled, exorcised and properly bandaged, never you worry.”

“Am I free to go then? Bae is likely wondering where I am.”

He had left fend for himself long enough. His wee boy was resourceful and independent, but he needed his papa. He had wallowed in self pity and bathed in whisky long enough. 

“Baelfire is here. He and the children got into some mischief, apparently. Burned down the kitchen of a nearby hospital.”

“That sounds like the handiwork of your youngest and brightest. Pretty little arsonist you got there.”

“Takes after her great-aunt in that regard. We’re all so proud.”

She kept walking in the direction of the glasshouse, which was puzzling.

“It doesn’t sound like Wednesday to leave the job half-done. Can’t imagine her settling for the kitchen when she could’ve easily set the entire place ablaze.”

“The fire was a distraction, cousin. Apparently they were on a rescue mission, spearheaded by your boy.” She tugged gently on his arm to get him to pause. Her countenance grew strangely serious, though she was difficult to read. “It seems that Belle was there. Against her will.”

His stomach dropped to the floor at the mere mention of her name, so it took him a few seconds to process the rest of her words, and even more time to notice Morticia was still talking.

“Usually I’m all for the peace and quiet of an insane asylum for a little getaway and a bit of pampering, but I gathered that was not the case here. Miss Ruby Lucas, one of Belle’s friends, seemed to imply that her father had her forcefully committed. And not for the first time.”

“Where is she?”

He tried hard not to focus on the last bit Morticia had confided, lest he be lost in a murderous rage.

“In the glasshouse. She was put in a room at first but it seems confined spaces do not agree with her at this time. Thing said she’d been locked in a tiny room, so that might explain it. Being able to see outside seemed to calm her.”

They entered the glass dome in question, and he noticed Morticia had opened quite a few of the panels, letting the cold night air in. Someone, likely Lurch, had dragged a chaise lounge into the room, the one from the library. He’d seen Belle asleep in it often so it was natural to see her thick brown hair cascading down the edge, or her small form swaddled by the thick cashmere throw she usually favoured. It wasn’t until he got close that he noticed her bruised under-eyes, or the sallow tone of her skin. She was dressed in an old-fashioned white nightgown, likely some Addams heirloom from some Victorian ancestor. 

“She wakes from time to time, but never for long. Mama has been trying to figure out how to counteract what she’s been given, but she’s too weak for bloodletting. We hoped one of your detox concoctions might work.”

He pushed down on the vile rising up his throat, taking one of her hands in his to check her pulse. It was sluggish but constant. He opened her mouth next to smell her breath, years of experience allowing him to identify the humours out of sorts in her body. It was easy to find the right combination of potions to lower the levels of phlegm and black bile and help the production of blood, Belle’s base humour. He put a dollop of honey to cut the bitter taste of some of the herbs and eased it gently down her throat, noticing as her eyes fluttered briefly before closing again.

“She’ll wake in a few hours, hopefully with only a minor headache and some tremors. Those are likely to disappear in a few days. I trust she’ll stay here with you.”

He looked at her again, feeling like someone had tried to take the light away from his little sun fairy. She looked more like an Addams now, skin unnaturally white and lips tinged blue, but it looked wrong, unappealing.

“This is my fault.”

He had doubted her, after all. Had wrapped himself tight in his self-pity and refused to trust in her good nature. Refused to see beyond his past experiences, beyond his heartache. He had left her there. It was all his fault.

But not only his fault.

“I trust you won’t mind Bae having a little sleepover, will you dearie? I have a sudden pressing matter that needs attending.”

“Of course not, cousin. I assume I don’t have to ask what that matter is.”

Her words were laced with a hint of approval and a heap of malice. It did not surprise him in the least. Cousin Morticia was, after all, a fervent believer in the family motto.

[themadlostgirl]

Peter Pan Won’t Fail (2/2)

*Finally got part two!*

Prompt: Modern Reader ends up on the Neverland from her favorite tv show Once Upon A Time and proves to be very helpful. (Part 1)

Requested by: anon

Warnings: language

---

Months passed since I first showed up on Neverland. While most of my time was spent with me cataloging everything I knew from Once Upon A Time the show I did get some other hobbies. I got to learn how to fight, an endeavor that resulted in many bruises and a dislocated shoulder. I explored the island and got closer to the Lost Boys. I met Tinkerbell but Peter forbid me from telling her anything about what I know. He was rightfully pissed that Tink betrays him in the future.

Speaking of the future I was still on the fence about my involvement in it. I tried to rationalize it away. Convince myself that these people weren’t necessarily real and so had no actual input on anything. Most days I could ignore it. Other days not so much. I hate debating my choices in morally compromising situations.

During the night Peter straightened and fell quiet suddenly. I waited to see what he was doing when he smiled. “New souls entered the island. Could it be the boy?”

“How many?”

“Three.”

“Should be.” I took a deep breath, “The games begin.”

Peter called Felix and some of the other boys and sent them off to find Henry and the two adults he came with. This is happening. This is actually happening now. I’m in the plot of the show.

“Y/N--” A hand dropped onto my shoulder and I jumped a foot in the air.

“Nervous are we?” Peter teased, “If your information is correct then there is nothing to worry about.”

“I know, I know.” I shrugged his hand off, “I guess a part of me didn’t believe in all of this deep down. I mean, for years I watched these characters and wanted them to get their happily ever afters. I loved you as a villain and stuff but if they hadn’t defeated you then everything would have been for nothing. All the people I cheered for...gone. Now that it’s happening for real I--I guess I feel guilty.”

“Is that so?” his eyes narrowed. “Losing our nerve are we? I thought you wanted us to win. To change the story.”

“Yeah…”

He towered over me, that once teasing glint now a cold stare. “Are you going to be a problem? I would hate to have to go back on my word and lock you in a cage until after I have the heart.”

“No! I promise! I’m fine!” I tried in vain to stop my shaking hands, “I’m on your side. I want you to win. I want you to live.”

“Good.” he wrapped an arm around me and started ushering me deeper into the jungle, “Then you won’t mind taking on a special role in the proceedings. Won’t you?”

“Of course not.” I relaxed at his touch, “What did you have in mind?”

“Deliver this,” he produced a straw doll and placed it in my hands, “to Rumple for me when he gets here.”

I tucked the doll away. “Not a problem.”

“There’s my Lost Girl.” he traced a finger across my cheek, “Now you say I need to keep my shadow confined to the island?”

“Not unless you want Baelfire running around and teaming up with Rumple to get Henry back. It’ll make things easier without another person to interfere but I think our real worry is Regina. She’ll go to hell and back for her son and was labeled the Evil Queen for a reason. Murder isn’t something she’ll abstain from.”

“Good thing we don’t either.” 

I waited in the camp while Peter and the boys collected Henry. When they returned Peter nodded to me and I went out on my own mission to find Rumple. I really hope that this goes like with Felix and that he doesn’t just immediately try to kill me.

I wandered around until I saw a figure in a clearing. Okay. I can do this. I walked closer and he turned to me, his calm demeanor shifting into confusion when he saw me. “You’re not who I was expecting to see.”

“I know.” I kept my hands clasped behind my back so he couldn’t see them shaking. “I’m just here to deliver a message of welcome. Seeing as how you’re here for Henry though that makes you Peter’s enemy so not really a welcome I suppose.”

“Who are you?” he scanned me from head to toe, “You’re not from here. A strange magic swirls around you. You’re not meant to be here, are you?”

“I shouldn’t be here but it isn’t going to stop the fact that I am.” I pulled out the straw doll and tossed it to him, “You can’t see the future here but I do. Spoiler alert, you don’t win.”

Rumple picked up the doll with tears in his eyes. It might have been sad if I wasn’t simultaneously terrified of the man and the power he wields before me.

“Who are you?” he ground out through clenched teeth. “Who are you!”

“I’m the tipping point.” I grinned as a new feeling started to emerge. Sadism that I had never known before. That delight in seeing him crumpled on the ground trying in vain to cover the sobs escaping from him. Pain that I caused just by handing him a little doll.

When I got back to camp I found Peter immediately and told him about my meeting with Rumple. “Sounds like you did very well, my Lost Girl.” he pulled me closer, “You’re having fun now, aren’t you?”

“So much fun.” my heart fluttered wildly in my chest.

“And the fun will only continue. But it is getting rather late so we’ll return to the game in the morning.” Peter took one of my hands and brought it up to his lips to kiss and wink at me. “Goodnight, Lost Girl.” he said and walked off towards his tent leaving me dumbfounded and gaping like a fool in the middle of the camp.

The pleasant buzz clouding my mind started to abate. That boy is slowly dissolving my moral compass and I can’t find myself to be upset about it. Not when he did such things like that.

What good were ethics when you lived here anyways? How could guilt help me survive? Why save one boy I do not know from Adam when I needed to save someone who meant something to me?

Over the months I’ve spent here Peter Pan has come to mean something to me. He means survival. He means adventure. He means laughter. He means...he means happiness. He may even mean something more that I daren’t believe possible. Maybe I’m just being stupid. Maybe I’m letting all the damn fanfiction I read obscure what is true. Maybe all I am is a means to an end and once he is cured then every promise he made will be forfeit. This time next week I may very well even be dead.

Right now though...right in this moment I am alive. I am here. I am a Lost Girl and when Peter Pan looks at me my heart skips a beat. Even if it is all just an act or an illusion I want to be happy. I want to pretend that this is where I am meant to be.

With that dream in my head I went to my own tent and fell asleep to await the rest of the events of this week.

And so it was a strange couple of days. With my advice and foresight things were going much smoother. Maybe not as fun as Peter would have liked but in this case he wouldn’t die. That’s all that matters in the end really.

If things remain as they are then there will be nothing to worry about. Wendy was confined and kept on high guard so that none of the others could intercept what she knew. I didn’t like the idea of keeping her prisoner still and negotiated to have her returned to her brothers in Storybrooke after we had won. My one good deed amongst all my other rather abhorrent dealings since coming here.

Neal wasn’t on the island. Rumple had been duped by Peter’s shadow disguised as Belle and had been returned to Storybrooke. Peter had taken Tinkerbell’s heart and forbade her from helping heroes. We found Baelfire’s old hideaway and taken everything of use out. A group of Lost Boys had found the Jolly Roger per my instructions and sailed it far off into the ocean. There was only one single row boat on the island and it was with Peter. He should be heading to Skull Rock right about now with Henry.

It’ll all be over soon.

I was taking a walk through the jungle singing softly. The only loose end was Emma, Regina, Snow, David, and Hook. I had yet to see any of them and was hoping to keep it that way. If I did run into them then I had a very specific job that Peter entrusted to me.

“The King and his men stole the Queen from her bed and bound her in her bones.” I sung, “The seas be ours and by the powers where we will we'll roam.”

“Yo ho, all hands hoist the colors high.” a voice answered from the darkness, “Heave ho, thieves and beggars. Never shall we die.”

A gust of wind pushed me down to the ground and held me there. “What do we have here?”

“Damn,” I hissed in pain. A bunch of people started to gather around me. “I should have stayed in the camp.”

“Where is Henry?” One of them demanded but in the dark it was hard to tell who.

“I’m gonna go out on a limb and say you are the adults looking for Henry? Emma? Regina? Hook?”

“You know her?” A feminine voiced asked.

“Never seen her before. Outside of Tinkerbell and the mermaids I had never met another girl on the island.” Definitely Captain Hook.

“If you let me up I will take questions.” I told them. The invisible weight pinning me down lessened and I stood up. Sure enough it was the heroes that had found me. It is so weird seeing them and knowing that they aren’t just actors right now.

“Who are you? Where is my son?” Emma demanded.

“My name is Y/N.” I told them. It is now time to put my encyclopedic knowledge of Once Upon a Time and ability to lie out of my ass to the test. “Your son is no longer on the island.”

“What? What do you mean?” I had multiple weapons pointed at me. “Where is Henry?”

“Storybrooke.” I fished the magic bean Peter had given me out of my pocket, “I snagged these off of Pan. Gave one to Henry to go home.”

“Why should we believe you? You could be lying.”

“But I’m not. I came here to save him since in my world you lot fail.”

“What are you talking about?” Regina edged closer with a fireball.

“Okay, long story short I come from a land where all of this,” I gestured to the jungle, “And all of you are part of a TV show. This is the Neverland arc. People argue it was one of the last good ones before things started going off the rails.”

“I’ve been through a lot but even that doesn’t sound real.” Emma rolled her eyes.

“Henry’s father is a man named Neal, Rumplestiltskin’s son, previously known as Baelfire. He was tricked into an engagement with a woman named Tamara whom you suspected. When you went to search their room you had Henry stand guard outside and to bump against the door if anyone came.” I said and she backed off. “Too specific an instance?”

“Henry could have told you that--”

“Snow here had a one night stand with Doctor Frankenstein and Charming punched him in the face after the curse was broken when he found out. Do you think Henry knows that one?” I cocked an eyebrow at them. It was really hard not to laugh in that instance since Snow and David looked extremely uncomfortable with the reminder.

The others started to back off but Hook kept his sword trained on me, “And you...what can I say to you? You and Pan are well informed but I know something that not even he does.”

“What, pray tell, is that?” he snarled.

“You know lullabies. One at least. Your mother used to sing it. Her name was Alice.” I answered. If the Hyperion Heights arc did anything right it was giving us Colin O’Donoghue dressed as Captain Hook singing lullabies to a squishy little baby.

“How did--”

“Now do you all believe me? I know how this story goes and I am changing how it ends. That way you idiots can win and not let your son die this time.”

“We...we fail?” Snow looked heartbroken.

“Not this time.” I held out the bean to them, “Henry is already home. He’s waiting for you. Why do you think I’m out here singing sea shanties? I was hoping one of you would hear me so I could pass this on.”

“And what do you get out of this?” Regina asked.

“I get to watch a happy ending instead of a sad one. I mean, there is a bunch of bull that the show goes through to bring Henry back like two episodes later but this is much faster and hopefully not as convoluted.” It was actually kind of amazing how effortlessly the lies were flowing out of me.

“Great, if we can just get back to the ship then--”

“The ship isn’t there anymore.” I sighed, “Like immediately after you all got here Pan finds the ship and sets it on fire.”

“WHAT!” Hook shouted, “My--my ship!”

“Yeah...sorry, couldn’t do anything about that one.”

“What about, Gold? Can we just leave without him?”

“He’s currently in a magical fight to the death with Pan on Skull Rock where they will most likely kill each other. Considering all the crap he’s pulled in the past against all of you I say we leave them to it. Yeah?”

The adults exchanged uneasy glances before nodding. “Great. Now off you go. Say hi to Henry for me.” I dropped the bean on the ground and they all fell through back to Storybrooke.

“Oh thank god!” I breathed out in relief. “That was a lot more work than it should have been. I could have just as easily thrown it at their feet the second I was up but no. I had to go on a Once Upon a Time trivia binger. At least they’re gone and can’t intervene anymore.”

I looked around at the empty jungle and sighed, “And the talking to myself has increased by double. Nice. I’m gonna get out of here.”

I stood over the cliff looking over Skull Rock to wait. Hopefully my advice didn’t work against Henry’s belief in Peter. If things go wrong then we are all screwed. Time ticked by at a torturous pace. I was starting to think that we had failed again when I saw something fly out from Skull Rock.

Peter! He did it! We won! We won!

As if sensing my excitement he flew straight to where I was waiting and landed in front of me. Before I could react he scooped me up in his arms and spun me around. “Hello, Lost Girl,” Peter was smiling like a madman, “I did it.”

“I noticed.” I chuckled as he set me down once more, “No trouble on your end?’

“None whatsoever. Henry was only to eager to hand over his heart to me. Now I am all powerful.” Peter floated off the ground a few inches to prove his point, “No loose ends on your front?”

“None. The heroes are trapped in their world and you have the heart. There’s nothing they can do.” I was practically bouncing from excitement.

He settled back on the ground. His excitement was mellowing out and I could see the gears turning in his head. “What happens now?”

“I don’t know.” I shrugged. Some of my fear started to creep back in but I squashed it down. “This is an alternate timeline now, we’ll just have to write our own story from here on out.”

“Our?” Peter cast his eyes to me once more. I let myself believe there may have been fondness in them.

“Yes. What good is an all powerful king of Neverland without a queen to tell him he’s doing it wrong?” I smirked at him.

“I knew I was gonna like you.” he pulled me flush against him, “Say it.”

“Say what?”

“You know what.”

“Peter Pan never fails.” I whispered, our faces a breath apart.

He kissed me so intensely I felt the earth shudder around me. “Damn right.”