#I POSTED ART THIS MONTH HOORAYY

[jovial-palace-grounds]

oops sorry guys my finger slipped and made a slutty whore wizardd

i also want to extend credit to mr da wei for making venti and mona and @kittblush for making swap seam deltarune au cause yall were a massive inspo bbz ty xx

[shestillhasherquill]

At the Heart of Darkness (1/11)

Hoorayy! It's time for my Captain Swan Big Bang fic's grand reveal. I am soooo excited for every one to read this. But before that, I would be remiss if I do not thank the Mods for organising this event. Go check out the other great fics and artwork on their tumblr: @captainswanbigbang​ They were so understanding when I had to miss a check-in and gave me an extension. I never thought I'd finish this story after I lost my dad, because there is A LOT of Father-Daughter content in this, but I pushed through because I wanted to get this fic out there. I love the idea, and I know it might not appeal to some people, what with Alice in the fic. To those people, I say: 'I respect your likes and dislikes. If you don't like it, you don't have to read it. Respect that I do, and I don't want negative comments or drama. Thank you.'

I can't thank Maggie aka @accio-ambition​ enough. She was more than my Beta, she was my bae-ta. She pushed me and yelled at me and got stressed out for me, while I chilled out. She has made me question myself and correct myself and been the best GD cheerleader in the world. I LOVE YOU, MAN. Most of the fic was panic written and if it weren't for @accio-ambition​ and @sambethe​ this would be a mess.

A HUGE SHOUTOUT to @sambethe​ for being a second beta practically, on top of being my artist, who made a KICKASS BANNER and a bunch of art that I CANNOT wait for you all to see. She's just the best, most understanding and kind-of always put up with my anxiety rants. Thanks, babe. Check out her original artwork post!

ALSO @downeystarkjr​ made 2 VIDEOS OF THIS FIC WHAT I'm crying you guys. They are amazing, she's amazing and just asdfghjkl; time for fic guys.

Summary: Killian Jones lives in the Land without Magic, with no memories of his family. Until Emma Swan comes into his life like a whirlwind, reminding about everything he had lost. He embarks on an adventure to destroy the Darkness, only to discover that Emma might not be telling him the whole story.

Rating: M

Content Warning: Mentions of Miscarriage, Angst, Gothel

AO3/FF.net

Prologue

“Papa, are you listening to me?”

“Of course, starfish. When am I not?” Killian answered, turning from the book he was reading and toward his daughter. His heart skipped a beat when he saw her dangling from a wooden beam by just her fingertips. “Alice Jones, get down this instant.”

“Will you catch me, Papa?” she called out, giggling. Suddenly everything around them turned dark, and Killian could hardly see. His panic rose, as he called out to his daughter. “Alice? Alice, answer me, love!”

“Papa, catch me. Catch me, Papa.” That was all he heard, echoing around him. “Don’t let me fall, Papa. Don’t leave me!” Alice’s voice grew from playful to frightful, the echoes growing fainter and fainter by the minute. Killian tried walking through the darkness, but it seemed Alice was moving farther away from him in the endless night. He was surrounded by it, like he was lost at sea.

A moment later, he could not hear her voice at all. “Alice? Alice! Where are you, darling? ALICE!” he shouted, his voice breaking.

Killian gasped awake, eyes shooting wide and hands grabbing tight on his sheets. It was that dream again, about the girl - Alice. Papa, she called him, but he did not have a daughter that he knew of. He had been having these dreams for years, and they never made any sense. He always woke up filled with an inexplicable desperation, like he needed to get back to that strange girl.

Every doctor he had been to had said the same thing - they were just dreams. How else could he explain the strange surroundings he found himself in during these dreams. Most times it was with this young girl, Alice, in some kind of a room, high up in a tower. Sometimes, there was another blonde woman, but he has never seen her face. He could not pick her out of a line-up if he had to, in all honesty. But unlike the dreams with the girl, whenever he dreamed of that woman, he woke up crying and his chest hurting.

There were days that he cursed these dreams - they remind him just how truly alone he was in this world. He had a brother once, who he served with in the Navy, but that seemed like it was centuries ago. He did not have a daughter, nor did he know blonde woman like the one plaguing his dreams. He had no one. Why would his mind taunt him so? Show him this life, in this strange land - when all he had was a 20-year sober chip and a job that doesn’t necessarily require him to stay in one place. He’d been searching, going from city to city, town to town, looking for a place to call home.

He’d been in this seaside town for the past two months, and as much as he enjoyed how quaint it was, it just didn’t feel right. Not that he could tell anyone what was - all he knew was he would feel it the moment it was right - he would have found home. Whatever this town was, it was not that.

Killian sighed, trying to put the dream out of his mind, slipping out of bed, grabbing his phone on the way. He punched in his agent’s number, putting him on speaker as he went about starting his morning brew.

“Hello, Jones. Which part of the world are you calling from now?” came Will’s voice, an undertone of exasperation barely concealed.

“I’m still in England, Will,” Killian replied, rolling his eyes. “No need to be an arse so early in the morning.” He turned on the coffee maker, grabbing his phone off the countertop. “Did you get the new chapters I sent you a couple of days ago?”

“Ah, that. Yes, I did. Great work, man. They are great, just a few notes from your editor. I’m sending you an e-mail about it as we speak. But we are quite ahead of schedule so far.”

“Good, good,” Killian mumbled. “I might be leaving this town soon. It doesn’t seem right.”

“Colour me surprised. What is right, Jones? You’ve been travelling like a fucking hermit.” Will’s tone was starting to grate on Killian’s nerves.

“I don’t appreciate your tone, Sanders.” Killian scowled at the wall. He did not need yet another person questioning his decisions - he was doing enough of that himself.

There was a tense silence over the phone before Will finally spoke. “All right. I don’t have any rights to question how you live your life. Just remember that once you’re done with this book, you need to do at least some touring and book signings.”

Killian resisted the urge to groan. As much as he enjoyed the life of leisure being a published author offered, the public appearances and PR were his least favorite part of his job.

“Yes, I remember. There’s still time for that, is there not? I’ll be back stateside in three months.”

“For good? Or just for the book?”

“Well, it’s not to see your ugly mug, mate. I’ll talk to you soon, Will.” And with that dismissal, he hung up. He fixed himself a cup of coffee, carrying it over to his designated work station. He passed a mirror on the way, pausing to stare at his reflection. He stared at it long and hard, trying to find any change in it, but he didn’t. Not one grey hair, not one wrinkle. The same face he has been staring at for the past 20 years - nothing has changed. He realised this little fact about himself a few years ago. He has not aged a day in 20 years. He does not remember what triggered it - he does not remember much, if he was brave enough to admit it. His memory of the past 20 years are pristine, he could remember every single detail. But before that? It was all a blur, like a dream. One could only laugh at that irony: somehow his dreams seem more real than his past.

He shook his head, walking away from the mirror and sitting at his desk. Taking a long sip from his mug, he pulled his sketchpad towards him, grabbing a spare bit of charcoal and scratching out a rough portrait of the girl from his dreams, etching her image on paper, hoping to trigger something that would make him understand why he kept seeing her, why she called him ‘Papa’. And who the mysterious blonde was.

-/-

20 years ago : Enchanted Forest

Killian was woken from his slumber by soft murmuring around him. “Swan, settle down and go back to sleep, love,” he grumbled, reaching for his lady-love with an outstretched arm. They were finally able to convince Alice to stay the night with Smee while they stole a night to themselves.

When his arm met the sheets covering their bed at the inn where they’d spent the night, instead of Emma’s soft skin, his eyes flew open. He scrambled out of bed, reaching for his trousers when he heard her laughter. He turned around, pants hanging loosely around his hips, unlaced and held up with just his hand. There she sat, in one corner of the room, wearing his shirt - and naught else - a book in her hand. “You’re- you’re reading?”

“Don’t sound so surprised, Hook. I was brought up a princess, you know,” she teased, sliding out of her perch, the book landing on the floor with a thud.

He grabbed her when she was within arms’ reach, hand curling on her hip, lips grazing hers gently. “Aye, I know, Princess.” He pulled back before she could deepen their kiss. “I am a little hurt that you chose to read a book, when you could have woken me up. We could have engaged in more, ah..enjoyable activities.” When he noticed her hesitation, he felt his insecurities flare up - it had been a while since he’d been with a woman. In fact, that wretched witch was the last person he had been intimate with. He backed away a little from Emma, his arms dropping to his side. “Unless, of course it wasn’t enjoyable for you, love. I- it has been a while.”

“Oh, no, no. Killian, no,” Emma was quick to assure him, her hand coming up to rest on his chest, right over his heart. “No, last night was perfect. You were perfect, I promise.” Her cheeks tinted lightly at the boyish grin that took over his face. She turned back to grab the large tome before she faced him again. “I was reading this - a grimoire. I wanted to see if I could find some way to break Alice out of that tower. I’ve been doing my own research, but I did not want to tell you and Alice before I found something concrete. I couldn’t do that to you.”

Killian felt his throat close up, his heart clenching at her gesture. He had always known that Emma cared for his Alice almost as much as he did - it was because of his love for Alice that it took him almost a year to warm up to Emma’s presence in their lives. But knowing something and seeing proof of it were two very different things.

“I- I couldn’t give up. I know I promised I would be more careful with my magic, but I just...,” Emma shrugged, trialing off, having mistook his silence for anger.

He was quick to reassure her, pulling her into his arms in a tight embrace. “Thank you, Emma. I do not know what Alice and I would do without you in our lives,” he whispered, his voice breaking at the end.

He felt Emma’s smile against his chest, her arms clenched tight around the book. “You never have to find out.”

-/-

Present : Land without Magic

There were so many things Killian was grateful for, but the internet had to be the most important. It was much easier to find a great place to stay, that still afforded him the solitude that he craved, thanks to the wonder of AirBnB. He rubbed his hands together, warming them up as he walked down the small hill his lone house was on, his reusable shopping bag and notebook keeping him company. As much as he has moved around, he was still a creature of habit. He had made himself the same dinner every Saturday - a pot of hot stew and some marmalade sandwiches for a light snack later. And every Friday, like today, he would walk into town, hit up the local markets and do a spot of shopping. Then, he would spend the day people watching, sitting at the benches in the city center. He would describe everything he saw around him - from the changing weather, to the street musicians playing their tune. The sight of the fresh fruits and vegetables at the market; the ruckus created by students who had survived yet another week. All of it, he would note down - he would build his own stories, even.

He might fool everyone, sometimes even himself, into thinking all of this was for research. But he had been doing this for as long as he could remember, as if he was writing things for someone stuck in a prison, hoping that his writing would provide them with some semblance of the world outside. He couldn’t remember a time he hadn’t done this - but he had no one to share these stories with. So even as he filled notebook after notebook, each of various shape and size, some leather bound with parchment paper, some of them scraps of napkins bound together - even as he recorded everything, the only purpose it served was collecting dust at the house he had in Atlanta - the one and only residence he has had throughout his adult life. The same one he had bought twenty years ago, a quaint blue house with a wraparound porch and a white picket fence, waiting for the day it will be called ‘home’.

And so like clockwork, Killian sat at his usual bench, his view of the town unencumbered from this point, and observed the ongoings. Somehow, this time, his heart was not in it. His dreams had become more frequent recently, and he was loathe to go back on the pills he had been prescribed. They stopped the dreams completely, but that made him feel even worse, even more alone. As much as the dreams - and their characters - haunted him, their absence made it harder for him to survive his lonely existence.

Will had told him over the years that if only he would put himself out there, if only he would come out of his shell and interact, even if it was to simply make a friend, he would feel much better. But he never felt inclined to; he felt like he was supposed to be miserable. He was used to this feeling, and somehow, letting go of it seems unfathomable.

He snapped himself from where his thoughts drifted to, his gaze refocusing on what was in front of him. And the moment his vision became clear, the first thing he saw was the same head of blonde hair from his dreams, disappearing around the corner. He blinked, his breath caught in his throat. He stood immediately, squinting at the lane where he caught the glimpse of the blonde - hair the exact shade of spun gold as from his dreams. His bag and notebook forgotten, he took off in her direction.

For so long, he had been struggling with thoughts that maybe his dreams were more than just that, but had dismissed the thoughts almost as quickly as they had come. But something in his heart told him to follow the blonde, that maybe she might help - whether it was to break the illusion or to strengthen it, he wasn’t sure yet. He wasn’t sure what he wanted the outcome to be either.

He went around the corner he had seen her turn, which led him down a tiny alley. The only place that seemed to be open was an antiquities shop, with a single flickering light on at the display window. Alice and her ‘round the world Wonders, the sign read.

“Alice…” he whispered softly to himself, his incredulity evident. “It can’t be.” He pushed through the door, the bell above the door ringing through the empty shop.

“Hello?” he called out, suddenly feeling a little breathless, as if in anticipation. He waited with bated breath, but no one turned up for a whole two minutes. Just as he was about to call out again, someone pushed past the curtains, stepping through.

Killian felt disappointment settle in his chest when he saw the woman who walked into the room. She was definitely blonde, but she was not the woman from his dreams, of that he was certain. All the built up anticipation of the past few minutes drained out of him. He simple stared at her unable to do much more than force a smile in return to her smiling at him. He was certain the woman he’d seen turn down the alley had been her, but it was not the woman from the shop.

She was dressed plain enough, but her heavy array of braids gave her an air of eccentricity; and as friendly and welcoming as she seemed to think her smile was, it made the hair on the back of Killian’s neck stand up.

“Can I help you?” she asked him, approaching the counter.

As much as he wanted to bolt from this shop, and from this woman, he had a feeling she might have some answers for him. “Erm, no. I was simply looking around,” he replied after a long pause. He turned around, pretending to be interested in an old windmill, running his finger over the blades. “Curious name your shop’s got,” he commented. “Alice… is that you?” he asked, smiling and hoping that she wouldn’t suspect anything, before turning away.

He noticed her stiffen out of the corner of his eye, before she cleared her throat and plastered a smile back on her face. “Ah, no. I knew an Alice, a very long time ago. The name just felt fitting.” She waited a beat before adding, “I’m Eloise. And you’re Killian Jones.”

Hackles raised, he turned to face her again, his jaw clenching involuntarily. “How do you know my name?”

He could have sworn he saw her smirk, but he blinked and it was gone, replaced by a sheepish smile. “I’m a huge fan of your books - the life of a pirate captain and all that.”

Killian was not entirely convinced by her answer, but he had no real reason to doubt her, save for an odd gut feeling. “I did not realise you’d recognise me.”

“Yes, you do look a bit different with the beard,” Eloise commented. “But not unrecognisable.”

Something in the way she phrased it made Killian feel like he was under sharp scrutiny. Whatever he was looking for, this Eloise seemed to have a whole other agenda, one he was not going to wait around and watch play out. “I should get going. But it was nice to meet you Eloise.” Killian started retreating, but she stopped him.

“Wait! I would be really happy if you took a token of appreciation. Your stories mean a lot to me, especially the Princess you write about.”

“The Swan Princess?” he asked, unable to help himself. He felt a strong tug in his chest when he said those words, as if it recognised who he was talking about. But that was impossible: the Swan Princess was just a character that he had made up.

Instead of dwelling on those thoughts, he simply said,“I am really glad you like my work, lass. I appreciate it. But I must get going.”

“Of course. I don’t want to keep you long.” Eloise pulled a painting from under the counter, holding it out to Killian.

He stepped closer, looking at the painting of a ship in the middle of the ocean depicted in the calm before the storm. As mesmerising as the painting itself was, he was more concerned with the signature at the bottom - Alice.

“Who did this?” he demanded, his eyes snapping up to meet hers. “Who is Alice?”

Eloise brows furrowed in concern at his harsh tone. “Mr. Jones, I’m sorry if I did something to offend you. But I simply wanted to give you this painting because it reminds me of your stories. As for Alice...well, she did make this. But I’m afraid she’s not with us anymore.”

Rationally, Killian knew that there was no way that the Alice Eloise spoke of was the girl from his dreams. But his heart clenched just hearing that. “I’m so sorry for your loss,” he muttered, walking away from Eloise and her store, leaving the painting behind.

As soon as he was out of sight, Eloise’s startled expression slipped into a smirk. “Oh, I finally found you, Captain Hook,” she whispered. She flipped the ‘closed’ sign on the door, and headed into the backroom again.

-/-

20 years ago : Enchanted Forest

“Do you really think it is a good idea to keep this from Alice?” Emma asked, biting her lip. “She might want to know - she was vying for this.”

“As much as I want to shout from the mountain tops how much I care about you, Emma - and it is a lot, believe you me, lass - I just do not want her to think this is more than it is.” When he saw Emma’s face fall, he wanted to kick himself for how he phrased it. “I didn’t mean to sound so flippant, love. I don’t want any kind of pressure on you, and if we tell Alice, she might think that we are-”

“So let her,” Emma said, cutting him off. She stepped up to him, her eyes meeting his determinedly. “There’s no pressure here, but I’m in this for the long haul, Killian Jones. If that scares you, well, I-” She huffed, losing steam. “I’ll have to challenge you to a duel - and I will end up defeating you.”

Killian grinned widely at her, kissing her chastely. “Aye, I have no doubt you will, darling. I would gladly surrender to you, Your Highness.”

Emma flushed, slapping his arm lightly. “Are you ready to tell your daughter that she will soon be free?” Emma could swear that the smile that took over her pirate’s face rivaled even the bright rays of the sun.

-/-

Present : Land without Magic

“Ms. Swan? I think I found the man that you have been looking for.” Emma sat up straight at that. While she had hoped utilizing Mr. Castle’s private investigation services would come to fruition, she had not realised it would be quite this soon. If she had realised how efficient this land’s resources were, she would have relied on them much earlier.

“Are you sure? Killian Jones?” she asked, starting to pace.

“Ms. Swan, Killian Jones is quite a famous writer. I am not unfamiliar with who he is.” Emma could almost hear his condescension. “But he is elusive and an extremely private person, so he was a bit harder to track down.”

“But you did, did you not? Track him down?” Emma asked, irritated by Castle dragging the issue.

“Of course, as I assured you. He’s in a small town in south-eastern England. He is coming back to the United States in three months for a book tour.”

Emma’s elation was unparalleled to anything else in the world. She clutched the ring hanging around her neck tight, as tears pricked behind her eyelids. “Thank you, Mr. Castle. Do you have an address?”

Once she had hung up on the call with Castle, she let a few tears fall - tears of joy, of course, but of sorrow as well. She had to bring him back to all the chaos and pain that he had left. She had to bring him back before she had the cure she’d promised him. She absentmindedly rubbed at her chest, an echo of pain and frustration running parallel to her own emotions. It had been twenty years, but she would never get used to this connection she had with Killian - a curse and a blessing all in one; her life was tied to his in many ways, and being able to sense his feelings was the cruelest of it all.

She could still remember so clearly the day they had parted, could feel the flow of the energy as he linked their lives together; she was unable to age, just like all Dark Ones. Because of him, her light magic was forever corrupted now. She hated him for that: she hated him for leaving her with all the pain and the memories, while he walked into another world, without her, without Alice, and without his memories. But she could never hate him more than she loved him. Emma touched the ring again, her heart settling as she remembered his promise to her - the promise of a happy future, no matter how long it took them to get there. She had made him a promise in turn - to find a way to cure him of the darkness that plagued his soul - and to not come for him before then.

Unfortunately, Gothel had a more sinister plot in mind. After two decades, she had managed to break free of her bonds. Emma had no choice to come for him before that wretched witch found him. Killian was not the only reason Emma had come, of course. There was another person she needed to save, but she knew she had to find Killian Jones first. He would be the only one who could get Alice back.

-/-

Eloise waved at the back wall of her store, sparks of dark magic expelling from her hand. The wall shimmered before disappearing completely, revealing an elaborate garden on the other side, with a glass coffin in the middle, covered in vines. She walked up to it, her hand running over the vines, watching as they retreated at her touch.

“Oh, Alice, dear. You’ve been resting for quite a while, haven’t you?” she whispered, not a hint of remorse in her voice. She stared down at the slumbering girl, looking child-like and peaceful in her spell-struck state. “I just can’t have you meddling in my plans, dear. Your father can’t be compromised, not until I can get my hand on his dagger.”