Lament of the Asphodels - Chapter 24: Whispers from Dione
Title: Whispers from Dione, Chapter 24 of Lament of the Asphodels
Author dracox-serdriel
Artist: LiamJcnes
Word count: 4,500
Rating/Warnings: For rating and full warning, please see the primary post.
Note: Written as part of Captain Swan Big Bang 2016.
[see Chapter Notes]
Emma plunged headlong into the darkness before her eyes processed the impossibility before her, and though fear scattered her wits like feathers in savage winds, her sharp reflexes did not fail her. Pain blossomed over her left wrist as her arm snapped back. Her mind failed to recognize this as the result of being handcuffed to a complete stranger, but her body spun around in an attempt to follow the motion back to the threshold to the door.
The blackness was so absolute that she feared she had gone blind, and the silence was so profound that she thought deafness had struck her, too. She could not be certain how long she lingered in the emptiness beyond the door, but it felt like hours. The ache of her arm reminded her that no matter how thick or noiseless the darkness was, she yet remained alive, aware, and able to fight it.
Then everything fell away as her arm went slack and Killian joined her beyond the threshold of the dark doorway. He, too, wondered after his senses, if some manner of magic had stolen them, for never before had they failed him so absolutely.
Both were robbed of all sensation, save for the occasional tug of the cuff against wrist when one drifted away from the other. They experienced a fleeting sense of falling before the impression of floating set in, though neither perceived water or any other substance suspending them.
The air turned deathly cold, and there was no end to the nothingness around them.
"Emma," Killian said. "Emma, can you hear me?"
She was nearly as shocked to hear something as he was to learn that he maintained the ability to speak.
"Yeah, I can hear you, Hook," she replied.
Then the ground appeared under their feet, but their legs failed to hold them upright, as they had been so long floating and listless that they were unprepared to commit any support. They collapsed together, bodies unpleasantly colliding as they landed hard on their backsides.
"Sonovabitch," Emma mumbled.
"I appreciate the sentiment," he said.
They were in an open field of grass that was painfully beautiful, its hue of the deepest, most impossible green that ever existed. In the distance to the south, purple and blue mountains lingered in the sky, and to the west, a thick forest appeared on the horizon. The far, far east seemed home to another flatland, a dry and unforgiving desert, while the farthest point north was a rocky shore bordering the saltiest of seas.
If the method of their arrival was a mystery, then it was only fair to refer to call their location an enigma. It was incredibly familiar and simultaneously alienating. There was nothing but the two of them for as far as the field stretched in every direction.
Confusion abated in ebbs and eddies. Where they were became less important than who they were with, and though they had fallen through nothingness as strangers, their arrival here - wherever here was - proved that they had known each other for a very, very long time.
"Killian?" Emma asked.
"Aye, love," he replied. Then he corrected himself, "Emma."
The handcuffs were gone, though both would've sworn they had bound them together moments before.
"What the bloody hell is happening?" Killian asked.
"We thought that was obvious," someone answered.
Emma stepped in front of him as they both turned to see Belle, Ruby, and Granny standing only a few feet from them in the field. Though their faces remained true, their heights were all wrong. Belle's posture was stooped and haggard, and Ruby's hands appeared ancient and wrinkled.
"Who are you?" Emma demanded.
"Don't you recognize us, Emma Swan?" Belle asked, though it wasn't at all like her voice.
"You're not Belle," she replied. "And she's not Ruby, and she's not Granny. So who are you?"
"Here, you see only what you are willing to see," Not-Ruby said.
"To see us as we are, all you need to do is accept the truth," Faux-Granny said.
"The truth?" Killian repeated. "You're speaking to us, so perhaps it's best if you abandon your riddles and tell us plainly. What is going on?"
"Killian," Emma said, turning to him. "I've been here before."
"So have I," he said.
"Do you remember when?"
He shook his head, no. "In a dream," he replied offhandedly, almost in jest.
"A dream," she repeated. She turned back to the three women and asked, "We're dreaming?"
Belle, Ruby, and Granny disappeared, replaced by ancient women that some might call crones or hags, though in truth, their age granted them a deep, abiding beauty that was as unreal and impossible as the too-green grass.
"Wait, I know you," Emma said. "We've met."
"You are dreaming," Faux-Granny said. "You have been dreaming for many days."
"You'll never wake," Not-Belle said.
"Unless you confess," Not-Ruby added.
"Confess what?" Killian asked.
There was no reply.
"How have we been dreaming for days?" Emma asked.
"Duplicity," all three answered at the same time.
"We chartered an arrangement," Faux-Granny explained. "Between two parties. Ten trials to overcome in exchange for freedom."
"You are close," Not-Ruby added. "Too close."
"The other party violated the arrangement and used a spell to send you into a deep, deep sleep," Not-Belle continued. "As protectors of the agreement, we have acted on your behalf."
"If this spell is out of bounds, how did this other party arrange it?" Killian asked.
"A loophole," all three replied together.
"For the dream world is a realm where you can complete trials just like any other," Not-Belle said.
"Though you would never remember enough to do so," Not-Ruby said.
"We have intervened on your behalf, for the sake of the contract," Faux-Granny added. "And we have told you what you must do: confess. Until you both complete this trial, you will remain here, in the place that never was, from whence all prophetic dreams emanate."
"Confess what?" Emma asked.
In unison, the three shook their heads, no.
"We have said enough," they spoke together. "Confess."
Then they vanished.
Emma and Killian remained quiet for a long time after the trio of women disappeared. There were many reasons for the silence, though the largest contributor was that here, the fog of dreams lifted more and more the longer they remained, leading them to the realization that they had undoubtedly been dreaming for far longer than due course.
Killian carried that boat to his ship dozens of times, and every iteration varied ever so slightly: the shape of the harbor, the flags flown on his ship, the arrangement of knots, and so on. Yet it was remarkably consistent when it came to the events that unfolded, always ending with him walking down the glowing white gangplank onto the dock, only to walk a short distance to a rowboat that he needed to haul aboard his ship. At the time, the dream restarted anew, and he had no perception of the many previous boats he shouldered, save for the tiredness that settled into him, as if repeating the same dream on end stirred restless into his soul.
Likewise, Emma sat at her desk undulating between tedious paperwork and dusting, only to start where she began, in a dirty sheriff's office with nothing but paper to push. The only true variations were so subtle as to be unnoticeable, such as the color of the paper or the arrangement of chairs, and yet now the variety stood out in her mind as glaring and obvious. How did she fail to notice that it had all been a dream? How did she so quickly forget that she had lived through this only moments before?
The effect of such recollections was potent enough to render even the most frivolous and verbose person mute for hours, for it came with an enormous sense of unreality. They recognized that dreams possessed their own time and logic, and those swept up in them had no choice but to abide and live within those terms. Still, doubt stalked them like a starved predator, lurking just beyond view, with confusion and derealization in its company, ready to pounce and consume the minds of the two people locked inside the world from which all true dreams stem.
"What did they mean?" Killian asked, broaching the silence. "Ten trials? Confession?"
"I've been thinking about that," Emma replied. "Heracles murdered his wife and children in a fit of insanity induced by the goddess Hera. When his mind returned to him, he sought atonement and absolution, and he was sent to serve King Eurystheus in payment of this debt."
"The King tasked him with ten labors," Killian added, remembering the story. "Impossible tasks that no man could ever hope to do."
"Luckily, Heracles was not a man," she said. "He was part deity."
"When last I checked, neither one of us had claim to such a lineage," he said.
"I keep thinking about how they said we were close," she spoke, attempting to change the topic. "Close."
"Aye," he said. "But it means little if we're forever locked inside a dream."
"Until we confess," she whispered.
Killian could tell from the cadence of her voice that Emma knew more than he did, though she did not elaborate on the subject any further. He waited, hoping that she would illuminate him without his asking, but she said nothing. He began to wonder if her reasons were more out of selfishness than reservation.
"Confess what, Swan?" he asked, punctuating the silence with the keenness of his question. "If it is all our sins, then we'll be here for some time. Three hundred years as a pirate leaves me with no dearth of offenses."
Emma replied, "I don't know."
Technically, she hadn't lied, though the modulation of her voice betrayed her falsehood, however indirect it might have been, and there was no chance of Killian missing something so obvious.
How could she explain herself? On one hand, she didn't know who the trio of imposters were, nor did she understand their perplexing banter. On the other, there was a familiarity to them that she couldn't place, and the truth lingered behind her eyes like the quiet blackness of closed lids in the moment before sleep descends. Every time she attempted to contemplate their possible meanings, her stomach churned and her mouth went dry, for a furious dread overwhelmed her, forcing her to turn away.
She knew not what to say, so she spoke nothing at all. Facing monstrous sea beasts and vile tyrants required courage beyond what most possessed, yet now she found herself lacking enough bravery to close her eyes and face her inner demons.
"Swan?" Killian asked softly.
"I'm fine," she replied automatically.
"Aye," he said. "I've told you before you're something of an open book."
"Killian - "
"I love you," he interrupted.
It was a great relief to her in that moment moment.
"I love you, no matter what you've done," he continued, putting his hand on her shoulder.
"And I love you," she replied, clasping his hand with hers.
"Look at me," he whispered.
Emma imagined events unfolding. She would turn to him and become lost in his cerulean eyes, and they would share a passionate kiss that would cast a pall of oblivion over every ill memory and thought she ever had. Thus, there would be nothing to confess, and so light would their souls be that they would fly into the air, free as birds incapable of sin. They would forget where they were and the peril that threatened them, and they would spend the rest of time in the resplendent and never-ending flux that existed only in the world of dreams.
She wanted that more than anything she had desired before, and once she lifted her eyes to his, she could leave their fate in the hands of Morpheus, who surely had no qualm with them or their ilk. It would be far easier than closing her eyes and facing the boiling horror that stained her heart. She breathed deeply and braced herself, for this would act would be the last choice she ever made.
"Emma?"
His voice cascaded around her and collided with her most recent thoughts, resulting in a catastrophic cacophony of internal admonishment, for in that moment, she realized that she was so terrified of the truth that she had nearly chosen to condemn them both to a realm to which neither belonged. The realization ached like a sword to the heart, and that pain gave her the strength to speak.
"I'm afraid," she said.
"Afraid of what?" he asked.
"The truth," she replied. "I can't... it's too much."
"You don't have to face it alone."
"I do."
"No, you bloody well don't," he insisted. "I'm here, Emma. We can do this together."
The burn of tears joined her trembling voice, and she swallowed hard to prevent herself from succumbing to a long, hard sob. At the very least, she owed him an explanation.
"I need to close my eyes," she said. "I mean, I think I need to close my eyes... to remember."
"And that scares you?" he asked, his voice comforting and calm.
She nodded her head, yes, for her tears finally descended her cheeks, rendering her briefly unable to speak. He brought his chest flush with her back and wrapped his arms around her, bringing her into a strong, warm hug.
"I'll be here," he replied as he placed his head on top of hers. "I'll be with you the whole time, Swan."
Emma clasped his hand and hook in her own, desperate for a physical link to their connection and the support it provided. She couldn't afford to let her fear drive her away from doing what was right. She tried to take a deep breath, but the sob she'd been fighting made her tremble with every attempt. If not for the persistence of Killian Jones, her breath would've escaped her forever, for it was the weight of his arms bringing her closer that allowed her to draw in air deep to the seat of her soul and, in so doing, enabled her to close her eyes.
And in the darkness, she waited.
And waited.
And waited.
"To prove yourself worthy, you must complete ten trials," a man had said, his voice strong and sure. "Six will be split between you and he, to be completed as three personal trials. The remaining four will be of my choosing and my design, but their resolution can be the work of either of you or both of you together."
"And what are the trials?" she had asked.
"Oh, I haven't decided on the last four," the man replied casually. "Let's just say, those will depend on the circumstances. I mean, who doesn't love a surprise? But, tell you what, since I'm a good sport, I'll tell you about the one that you'll never complete."
"I'm listening," she had said defiantly.
"You must admit the failure that led to this deal," he had explained. "And all the fears that obscured you from that truth. Something you've never been able to do. So how's about it, Emma Swan? Do we have an accord?"
Emma's eyes fluttered opened, still raw and dry from the tears she could not hold back. She had sunk into Killian, leaning her weight into him as she dived into her memories, and she could feel his heart beating against her back.
"I did it because I thought I deserved something," she said. "I thought I was entitled to happiness."
"Swan?"
"I grew up an orphan who was only wanted so long as it was convenient," she continued. "The only person who ever cared about me abandoned me. At the time, it seemed like more of the same. People cared only when it suited them, and then abused my trust to benefit themselves. That was the story of my life, so when I found out I was pregnant, the first thing I thought was, this is how I change things. I'd be able to love someone who didn't have some agenda, and maybe that was all I needed. But I was in jail, and after my first appointment for prenatal care, this social worker visited me. She explained what would happen after I gave birth. Even if I was on parole, which wasn't likely, the state would take the baby away, put him with foster parents until I could prove that I could be his mother. She told me I had options."
Emma faltered, but a short squeeze from Killian was all she needed to be reassured.
"But, I knew I didn't have any options," she continued. "What would I do? I'd get out of jail, never be able to find a job, try to jump through all these hoops trying to get my kid back, and when I failed... he'd probably be too old to be adoptable. Just like I was. I didn't have to think about it. I wasn't going to let what happened to me, happen to him. I told the social worker I wanted him to be adopted, not fostered, and she said she could arrange that if that's what I wanted. After that, she visited me every month and asked me again and again, 'Is this what you really want?' And I kept telling her yes, even though it wasn't what I wanted at all. I don't know when it happen, but sometime in jail after that first meeting, I decided I couldn't be his mother, that I was foolish for thinking I could love him when nobody had ever loved me. And after I got out of jail, I never spoke about it. I gave up. I gave up on finding anyone who might care about me. I gave up on being a person. Then all of a sudden, I find everything I ever wanted. I should've been happy, but..."
"You weren't happy," he completed for her.
"No, I wasn't," she said. "First, I didn't believe it. Then... then I didn't know what to do. I spent almost thirty years of my life alone and unwanted, and none of that has ever gone away. So when you were dying in that field, you told me you couldn't handle the Darkness. You told me that you wouldn't survive being the Dark One, and I believed you. But I made you the Dark One because I thought was entitled to saving you, that I deserved something for all the suffering I had lived through for the sake of other people's mistakes. I had finally found someone who knew what it was to be lost like I was, and I deserved your love. I didn't care who paid the price, even if it was you, because I had paid dearly for everyone else. It was time somebody paid for me."
Killian said, "Emma, I - "
She interrupted, "Please, let me finish. I lived my life afraid that love was something I wasn't made for, something I couldn't do. Something I would never deserve. And when you were dying right in front of me, I told myself I was doing it for you, that you deserved to live. But I was selfish and didn't care anymore. I was tired of being the one who saved everybody and lost everything because of it. So I turned you into the Dark One, and I'm sorry, Killian... I'm... I'm sorry."
Emma had no idea if she had completed the trial, but it felt as if her heart and soul had been wrung out and wrenched in a thousand directions.
He turned her around and gently lifted her chin with his hand, and she met his azure eyes. It shouldn't have surprised her to see that his were red from tears.
"Swan, I'd tell you that you're forgiven," he said. "But I've heard nothing to forgive. A selfish choice to save another's life? Perhaps. But then why did you work so hard to save me after? You didn't give up on me. You had the entire town turned against you, all for a chance to save me from myself."
"But, Killian - "
"We are more than our worst choices," he interrupted.
She leaned into his chest and released the sob roaring inside of her. She howled into the coarse fabric of his garments, letting the rush of emotions pour out of her as they both collapsed to the ground, where a bed of flowers appeared, watered by her tears.
She cried until her eyes went dry, and they stayed slumped together for a very, very long time.
Then the wind blew, and a cold chill was on the air that hadn't been there before.
"After the Darkness took me, I was angry," he said. "Angrier than I had ever been before... when I remembered that you had saved me, and how you saved me... and everything you had done to try to rescue me from myself. And that made me angrier, and at no one more than myself. I had spent years trying to make myself a better man, trying to win your heart, but I had only been playing the hero, lying to myself about being a good man, a man worthy of your love. I spent years winning your trust and affection, neither of which I deserved. And somehow, my greed and self-deception led the best woman I knew to use the darkest of magicks, to submit to the darkness, and for what?"
"Because I loved you," she said.
"Aye, for me," he continued. "You became the Dark One because of me. I let my anger drive me to do terrible things. I tried to focus it on the Crocodile, but it wasn't enough... nothing I could ever do to him was enough. So I lashed out at the one person I cared about most... and since I couldn't harm you directly, I went after the people you cared about most. I acted like I was angry with you, like I wanted to hurt you, but the truth of it was... it was me. I wanted to hurt myself, and the best way to do that was to act like the worst pirate I'd ever been. I told myself it was liberation, but it was more like a beat cur returning to his chains. Before the Darkness, I made myself a good man somehow, but after... I couldn't find that side of me. And I knew I could find it through loving you, but I couldn't let myself. The whole time I made my choices out to be your mistake, but the truth was, it wasn't about you at all, love. It was about me. I was undeserving and afraid, and all I could see was all the worst things I've ever done. And I'm sorry, love."
"Killian," she said, guiding his gaze down to meet his eye. "It didn't matter. In the end, you fixed it all."
He shook his head. "I wanted to die," he said simply. "Not just for the shameful acts I committed, but because of what I had driven you to do."
Emma grabbed his shoulders and drew him into a kiss, and the last thing she remembered before darkness overtook her was the soft, sweet taste of his lips on hers.
The cold seeped deep to the bone despite the many blanketed layers. Emma curled into the heat next to her, seeking comfort in skin to skin contact as much as a way to warm her core. He instinctively turned into her, drawing her closer.
The dregs of sleep still weighed heavily on the both of them, and for a short time, they both revealed in the pleasure of waking up together in the same bed, their nude bodies entwined under the comfort of the many soft, heavy covers.
Emma's eyes snapped open when she realized that she was awake, for her dreams had been most peculiar.
"Killian?"
"Aye, love."
"Are you awake?"
"Aye, and quite concerned," he said as he reached for the heavy robe he had stowed on the bedside table.
"About the dream?" she asked.
"The dream?" he repeated.
Emma immediately felt embarrassed for assuming her nighttime gallivant in Morpheus's domain had been true, for the sound of his voice communicated that he had no earthly idea what she was talking about.
"Never mind," she said.
He abandoned his robe and turned back to her, concern etched on his face. "Swan?"
"It's nothing," she replied. "I had a dream with you in it, and we were stuck dreaming until we - "
"Confessed," he said, completing her sentence. "You had the dream as well?"
She nodded her head, yes.
"It was real," he said. "Perhaps that's why it's so bloody cold."
"What?" she asked.
"You must've noticed," he continued. "This room is never cold."
He grabbed his robe and dressed quickly, and Emma made to follow him. Unfortunately, without a barrier against the frigid temperature, she fled back under the covers. That was also when she noticed that there was something in her left hand: an orb, about twice the size of a pearl.
"I won't be long," he said.
"No, pass me some clothes," she said. "You shouldn't go alone."
He hesitated, but only for a second before he grabbed another heavy robe from the wardrobe. He also handed her a pair of heavy socks, which she donned before stepping out into the cold night air. She tucked the orb into a pocket, unsure of what Killian was so concerned about, if not the memories of the dream.
Even with the well-insulated and slightly oversized garments, the climate was unkind to the point of painful.
Nevertheless, she followed him down the hatch and into the snail-shell-shaped beacon room, and it was only then that she realized why the temperature was casting their shared dreaming experience to Killian's second concern. The last time she had been in this room, it was as a roaring furnace, yet now it was no warmer than the floor above it.
He peeked around the first curve, then walked beyond it. She almost followed, but she remembered the blinding light of the beacon and hesitated.
"Bloody hell," he said as he returned.
"Did the fire go out?" she asked.
"Swan, the Sole Beacon of Northedge was not lit by mere fire," he said. "There's a reason the Snare of Hephaestus was here. It guarded the Unending Flame."
"The Unending Flame?" she repeated. "The fire that Zeus hid from humanity as punishment?"
"Aye, the very same," he replied. "Our extended sleep allowed someone to steal it."
"Why would somebody steal it?" she asked. "And how?"
"I don't know, Swan, and it hardly matters," he replied. "Don't you understand? For the first time in millennia, the Sole Beacon of Northedge has gone dark."
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Chapter 25: An Imitation of Prometheus
Artist: LiamJcnes
Primary Post: Lament of the Asphodels
Chapter Notes
Dione was a Titaness in Greek mythology, associated with the Oracle of Dodona, who would divine the next course of action by listening to the rustling of leaves in the sacred grove.
Author dracox-serdriel
Artist: LiamJcnes
Word count: 4,500
Rating/Warnings: For rating and full warning, please see the primary post.
Note: Written as part of Captain Swan Big Bang 2016.
[see Chapter Notes]
Emma plunged headlong into the darkness before her eyes processed the impossibility before her, and though fear scattered her wits like feathers in savage winds, her sharp reflexes did not fail her. Pain blossomed over her left wrist as her arm snapped back. Her mind failed to recognize this as the result of being handcuffed to a complete stranger, but her body spun around in an attempt to follow the motion back to the threshold to the door.
The blackness was so absolute that she feared she had gone blind, and the silence was so profound that she thought deafness had struck her, too. She could not be certain how long she lingered in the emptiness beyond the door, but it felt like hours. The ache of her arm reminded her that no matter how thick or noiseless the darkness was, she yet remained alive, aware, and able to fight it.
Then everything fell away as her arm went slack and Killian joined her beyond the threshold of the dark doorway. He, too, wondered after his senses, if some manner of magic had stolen them, for never before had they failed him so absolutely.
Both were robbed of all sensation, save for the occasional tug of the cuff against wrist when one drifted away from the other. They experienced a fleeting sense of falling before the impression of floating set in, though neither perceived water or any other substance suspending them.
The air turned deathly cold, and there was no end to the nothingness around them.
"Emma," Killian said. "Emma, can you hear me?"
She was nearly as shocked to hear something as he was to learn that he maintained the ability to speak.
"Yeah, I can hear you, Hook," she replied.
Then the ground appeared under their feet, but their legs failed to hold them upright, as they had been so long floating and listless that they were unprepared to commit any support. They collapsed together, bodies unpleasantly colliding as they landed hard on their backsides.
"Sonovabitch," Emma mumbled.
"I appreciate the sentiment," he said.
They were in an open field of grass that was painfully beautiful, its hue of the deepest, most impossible green that ever existed. In the distance to the south, purple and blue mountains lingered in the sky, and to the west, a thick forest appeared on the horizon. The far, far east seemed home to another flatland, a dry and unforgiving desert, while the farthest point north was a rocky shore bordering the saltiest of seas.
If the method of their arrival was a mystery, then it was only fair to refer to call their location an enigma. It was incredibly familiar and simultaneously alienating. There was nothing but the two of them for as far as the field stretched in every direction.
Confusion abated in ebbs and eddies. Where they were became less important than who they were with, and though they had fallen through nothingness as strangers, their arrival here - wherever here was - proved that they had known each other for a very, very long time.
"Killian?" Emma asked.
"Aye, love," he replied. Then he corrected himself, "Emma."
The handcuffs were gone, though both would've sworn they had bound them together moments before.
"What the bloody hell is happening?" Killian asked.
"We thought that was obvious," someone answered.
Emma stepped in front of him as they both turned to see Belle, Ruby, and Granny standing only a few feet from them in the field. Though their faces remained true, their heights were all wrong. Belle's posture was stooped and haggard, and Ruby's hands appeared ancient and wrinkled.
"Who are you?" Emma demanded.
"Don't you recognize us, Emma Swan?" Belle asked, though it wasn't at all like her voice.
"You're not Belle," she replied. "And she's not Ruby, and she's not Granny. So who are you?"
"Here, you see only what you are willing to see," Not-Ruby said.
"To see us as we are, all you need to do is accept the truth," Faux-Granny said.
"The truth?" Killian repeated. "You're speaking to us, so perhaps it's best if you abandon your riddles and tell us plainly. What is going on?"
"Killian," Emma said, turning to him. "I've been here before."
"So have I," he said.
"Do you remember when?"
He shook his head, no. "In a dream," he replied offhandedly, almost in jest.
"A dream," she repeated. She turned back to the three women and asked, "We're dreaming?"
Belle, Ruby, and Granny disappeared, replaced by ancient women that some might call crones or hags, though in truth, their age granted them a deep, abiding beauty that was as unreal and impossible as the too-green grass.
"Wait, I know you," Emma said. "We've met."
"You are dreaming," Faux-Granny said. "You have been dreaming for many days."
"You'll never wake," Not-Belle said.
"Unless you confess," Not-Ruby added.
"Confess what?" Killian asked.
There was no reply.
"How have we been dreaming for days?" Emma asked.
"Duplicity," all three answered at the same time.
"We chartered an arrangement," Faux-Granny explained. "Between two parties. Ten trials to overcome in exchange for freedom."
"You are close," Not-Ruby added. "Too close."
"The other party violated the arrangement and used a spell to send you into a deep, deep sleep," Not-Belle continued. "As protectors of the agreement, we have acted on your behalf."
"If this spell is out of bounds, how did this other party arrange it?" Killian asked.
"A loophole," all three replied together.
"For the dream world is a realm where you can complete trials just like any other," Not-Belle said.
"Though you would never remember enough to do so," Not-Ruby said.
"We have intervened on your behalf, for the sake of the contract," Faux-Granny added. "And we have told you what you must do: confess. Until you both complete this trial, you will remain here, in the place that never was, from whence all prophetic dreams emanate."
"Confess what?" Emma asked.
In unison, the three shook their heads, no.
"We have said enough," they spoke together. "Confess."
Then they vanished.
Emma and Killian remained quiet for a long time after the trio of women disappeared. There were many reasons for the silence, though the largest contributor was that here, the fog of dreams lifted more and more the longer they remained, leading them to the realization that they had undoubtedly been dreaming for far longer than due course.
Killian carried that boat to his ship dozens of times, and every iteration varied ever so slightly: the shape of the harbor, the flags flown on his ship, the arrangement of knots, and so on. Yet it was remarkably consistent when it came to the events that unfolded, always ending with him walking down the glowing white gangplank onto the dock, only to walk a short distance to a rowboat that he needed to haul aboard his ship. At the time, the dream restarted anew, and he had no perception of the many previous boats he shouldered, save for the tiredness that settled into him, as if repeating the same dream on end stirred restless into his soul.
Likewise, Emma sat at her desk undulating between tedious paperwork and dusting, only to start where she began, in a dirty sheriff's office with nothing but paper to push. The only true variations were so subtle as to be unnoticeable, such as the color of the paper or the arrangement of chairs, and yet now the variety stood out in her mind as glaring and obvious. How did she fail to notice that it had all been a dream? How did she so quickly forget that she had lived through this only moments before?
The effect of such recollections was potent enough to render even the most frivolous and verbose person mute for hours, for it came with an enormous sense of unreality. They recognized that dreams possessed their own time and logic, and those swept up in them had no choice but to abide and live within those terms. Still, doubt stalked them like a starved predator, lurking just beyond view, with confusion and derealization in its company, ready to pounce and consume the minds of the two people locked inside the world from which all true dreams stem.
"What did they mean?" Killian asked, broaching the silence. "Ten trials? Confession?"
"I've been thinking about that," Emma replied. "Heracles murdered his wife and children in a fit of insanity induced by the goddess Hera. When his mind returned to him, he sought atonement and absolution, and he was sent to serve King Eurystheus in payment of this debt."
"The King tasked him with ten labors," Killian added, remembering the story. "Impossible tasks that no man could ever hope to do."
"Luckily, Heracles was not a man," she said. "He was part deity."
"When last I checked, neither one of us had claim to such a lineage," he said.
"I keep thinking about how they said we were close," she spoke, attempting to change the topic. "Close."
"Aye," he said. "But it means little if we're forever locked inside a dream."
"Until we confess," she whispered.
Killian could tell from the cadence of her voice that Emma knew more than he did, though she did not elaborate on the subject any further. He waited, hoping that she would illuminate him without his asking, but she said nothing. He began to wonder if her reasons were more out of selfishness than reservation.
"Confess what, Swan?" he asked, punctuating the silence with the keenness of his question. "If it is all our sins, then we'll be here for some time. Three hundred years as a pirate leaves me with no dearth of offenses."
Emma replied, "I don't know."
Technically, she hadn't lied, though the modulation of her voice betrayed her falsehood, however indirect it might have been, and there was no chance of Killian missing something so obvious.
How could she explain herself? On one hand, she didn't know who the trio of imposters were, nor did she understand their perplexing banter. On the other, there was a familiarity to them that she couldn't place, and the truth lingered behind her eyes like the quiet blackness of closed lids in the moment before sleep descends. Every time she attempted to contemplate their possible meanings, her stomach churned and her mouth went dry, for a furious dread overwhelmed her, forcing her to turn away.
She knew not what to say, so she spoke nothing at all. Facing monstrous sea beasts and vile tyrants required courage beyond what most possessed, yet now she found herself lacking enough bravery to close her eyes and face her inner demons.
"Swan?" Killian asked softly.
"I'm fine," she replied automatically.
"Aye," he said. "I've told you before you're something of an open book."
"Killian - "
"I love you," he interrupted.
It was a great relief to her in that moment moment.
"I love you, no matter what you've done," he continued, putting his hand on her shoulder.
"And I love you," she replied, clasping his hand with hers.
"Look at me," he whispered.
Emma imagined events unfolding. She would turn to him and become lost in his cerulean eyes, and they would share a passionate kiss that would cast a pall of oblivion over every ill memory and thought she ever had. Thus, there would be nothing to confess, and so light would their souls be that they would fly into the air, free as birds incapable of sin. They would forget where they were and the peril that threatened them, and they would spend the rest of time in the resplendent and never-ending flux that existed only in the world of dreams.
She wanted that more than anything she had desired before, and once she lifted her eyes to his, she could leave their fate in the hands of Morpheus, who surely had no qualm with them or their ilk. It would be far easier than closing her eyes and facing the boiling horror that stained her heart. She breathed deeply and braced herself, for this would act would be the last choice she ever made.
"Emma?"
His voice cascaded around her and collided with her most recent thoughts, resulting in a catastrophic cacophony of internal admonishment, for in that moment, she realized that she was so terrified of the truth that she had nearly chosen to condemn them both to a realm to which neither belonged. The realization ached like a sword to the heart, and that pain gave her the strength to speak.
"I'm afraid," she said.
"Afraid of what?" he asked.
"The truth," she replied. "I can't... it's too much."
"You don't have to face it alone."
"I do."
"No, you bloody well don't," he insisted. "I'm here, Emma. We can do this together."
The burn of tears joined her trembling voice, and she swallowed hard to prevent herself from succumbing to a long, hard sob. At the very least, she owed him an explanation.
"I need to close my eyes," she said. "I mean, I think I need to close my eyes... to remember."
"And that scares you?" he asked, his voice comforting and calm.
She nodded her head, yes, for her tears finally descended her cheeks, rendering her briefly unable to speak. He brought his chest flush with her back and wrapped his arms around her, bringing her into a strong, warm hug.
"I'll be here," he replied as he placed his head on top of hers. "I'll be with you the whole time, Swan."
Emma clasped his hand and hook in her own, desperate for a physical link to their connection and the support it provided. She couldn't afford to let her fear drive her away from doing what was right. She tried to take a deep breath, but the sob she'd been fighting made her tremble with every attempt. If not for the persistence of Killian Jones, her breath would've escaped her forever, for it was the weight of his arms bringing her closer that allowed her to draw in air deep to the seat of her soul and, in so doing, enabled her to close her eyes.
And in the darkness, she waited.
And waited.
And waited.
"To prove yourself worthy, you must complete ten trials," a man had said, his voice strong and sure. "Six will be split between you and he, to be completed as three personal trials. The remaining four will be of my choosing and my design, but their resolution can be the work of either of you or both of you together."
"And what are the trials?" she had asked.
"Oh, I haven't decided on the last four," the man replied casually. "Let's just say, those will depend on the circumstances. I mean, who doesn't love a surprise? But, tell you what, since I'm a good sport, I'll tell you about the one that you'll never complete."
"I'm listening," she had said defiantly.
"You must admit the failure that led to this deal," he had explained. "And all the fears that obscured you from that truth. Something you've never been able to do. So how's about it, Emma Swan? Do we have an accord?"
Emma's eyes fluttered opened, still raw and dry from the tears she could not hold back. She had sunk into Killian, leaning her weight into him as she dived into her memories, and she could feel his heart beating against her back.
"I did it because I thought I deserved something," she said. "I thought I was entitled to happiness."
"Swan?"
"I grew up an orphan who was only wanted so long as it was convenient," she continued. "The only person who ever cared about me abandoned me. At the time, it seemed like more of the same. People cared only when it suited them, and then abused my trust to benefit themselves. That was the story of my life, so when I found out I was pregnant, the first thing I thought was, this is how I change things. I'd be able to love someone who didn't have some agenda, and maybe that was all I needed. But I was in jail, and after my first appointment for prenatal care, this social worker visited me. She explained what would happen after I gave birth. Even if I was on parole, which wasn't likely, the state would take the baby away, put him with foster parents until I could prove that I could be his mother. She told me I had options."
Emma faltered, but a short squeeze from Killian was all she needed to be reassured.
"But, I knew I didn't have any options," she continued. "What would I do? I'd get out of jail, never be able to find a job, try to jump through all these hoops trying to get my kid back, and when I failed... he'd probably be too old to be adoptable. Just like I was. I didn't have to think about it. I wasn't going to let what happened to me, happen to him. I told the social worker I wanted him to be adopted, not fostered, and she said she could arrange that if that's what I wanted. After that, she visited me every month and asked me again and again, 'Is this what you really want?' And I kept telling her yes, even though it wasn't what I wanted at all. I don't know when it happen, but sometime in jail after that first meeting, I decided I couldn't be his mother, that I was foolish for thinking I could love him when nobody had ever loved me. And after I got out of jail, I never spoke about it. I gave up. I gave up on finding anyone who might care about me. I gave up on being a person. Then all of a sudden, I find everything I ever wanted. I should've been happy, but..."
"You weren't happy," he completed for her.
"No, I wasn't," she said. "First, I didn't believe it. Then... then I didn't know what to do. I spent almost thirty years of my life alone and unwanted, and none of that has ever gone away. So when you were dying in that field, you told me you couldn't handle the Darkness. You told me that you wouldn't survive being the Dark One, and I believed you. But I made you the Dark One because I thought was entitled to saving you, that I deserved something for all the suffering I had lived through for the sake of other people's mistakes. I had finally found someone who knew what it was to be lost like I was, and I deserved your love. I didn't care who paid the price, even if it was you, because I had paid dearly for everyone else. It was time somebody paid for me."
Killian said, "Emma, I - "
She interrupted, "Please, let me finish. I lived my life afraid that love was something I wasn't made for, something I couldn't do. Something I would never deserve. And when you were dying right in front of me, I told myself I was doing it for you, that you deserved to live. But I was selfish and didn't care anymore. I was tired of being the one who saved everybody and lost everything because of it. So I turned you into the Dark One, and I'm sorry, Killian... I'm... I'm sorry."
Emma had no idea if she had completed the trial, but it felt as if her heart and soul had been wrung out and wrenched in a thousand directions.
He turned her around and gently lifted her chin with his hand, and she met his azure eyes. It shouldn't have surprised her to see that his were red from tears.
"Swan, I'd tell you that you're forgiven," he said. "But I've heard nothing to forgive. A selfish choice to save another's life? Perhaps. But then why did you work so hard to save me after? You didn't give up on me. You had the entire town turned against you, all for a chance to save me from myself."
"But, Killian - "
"We are more than our worst choices," he interrupted.
She leaned into his chest and released the sob roaring inside of her. She howled into the coarse fabric of his garments, letting the rush of emotions pour out of her as they both collapsed to the ground, where a bed of flowers appeared, watered by her tears.
She cried until her eyes went dry, and they stayed slumped together for a very, very long time.
Then the wind blew, and a cold chill was on the air that hadn't been there before.
"After the Darkness took me, I was angry," he said. "Angrier than I had ever been before... when I remembered that you had saved me, and how you saved me... and everything you had done to try to rescue me from myself. And that made me angrier, and at no one more than myself. I had spent years trying to make myself a better man, trying to win your heart, but I had only been playing the hero, lying to myself about being a good man, a man worthy of your love. I spent years winning your trust and affection, neither of which I deserved. And somehow, my greed and self-deception led the best woman I knew to use the darkest of magicks, to submit to the darkness, and for what?"
"Because I loved you," she said.
"Aye, for me," he continued. "You became the Dark One because of me. I let my anger drive me to do terrible things. I tried to focus it on the Crocodile, but it wasn't enough... nothing I could ever do to him was enough. So I lashed out at the one person I cared about most... and since I couldn't harm you directly, I went after the people you cared about most. I acted like I was angry with you, like I wanted to hurt you, but the truth of it was... it was me. I wanted to hurt myself, and the best way to do that was to act like the worst pirate I'd ever been. I told myself it was liberation, but it was more like a beat cur returning to his chains. Before the Darkness, I made myself a good man somehow, but after... I couldn't find that side of me. And I knew I could find it through loving you, but I couldn't let myself. The whole time I made my choices out to be your mistake, but the truth was, it wasn't about you at all, love. It was about me. I was undeserving and afraid, and all I could see was all the worst things I've ever done. And I'm sorry, love."
"Killian," she said, guiding his gaze down to meet his eye. "It didn't matter. In the end, you fixed it all."
He shook his head. "I wanted to die," he said simply. "Not just for the shameful acts I committed, but because of what I had driven you to do."
Emma grabbed his shoulders and drew him into a kiss, and the last thing she remembered before darkness overtook her was the soft, sweet taste of his lips on hers.
The cold seeped deep to the bone despite the many blanketed layers. Emma curled into the heat next to her, seeking comfort in skin to skin contact as much as a way to warm her core. He instinctively turned into her, drawing her closer.
The dregs of sleep still weighed heavily on the both of them, and for a short time, they both revealed in the pleasure of waking up together in the same bed, their nude bodies entwined under the comfort of the many soft, heavy covers.
Emma's eyes snapped open when she realized that she was awake, for her dreams had been most peculiar.
"Killian?"
"Aye, love."
"Are you awake?"
"Aye, and quite concerned," he said as he reached for the heavy robe he had stowed on the bedside table.
"About the dream?" she asked.
"The dream?" he repeated.
Emma immediately felt embarrassed for assuming her nighttime gallivant in Morpheus's domain had been true, for the sound of his voice communicated that he had no earthly idea what she was talking about.
"Never mind," she said.
He abandoned his robe and turned back to her, concern etched on his face. "Swan?"
"It's nothing," she replied. "I had a dream with you in it, and we were stuck dreaming until we - "
"Confessed," he said, completing her sentence. "You had the dream as well?"
She nodded her head, yes.
"It was real," he said. "Perhaps that's why it's so bloody cold."
"What?" she asked.
"You must've noticed," he continued. "This room is never cold."
He grabbed his robe and dressed quickly, and Emma made to follow him. Unfortunately, without a barrier against the frigid temperature, she fled back under the covers. That was also when she noticed that there was something in her left hand: an orb, about twice the size of a pearl.
"I won't be long," he said.
"No, pass me some clothes," she said. "You shouldn't go alone."
He hesitated, but only for a second before he grabbed another heavy robe from the wardrobe. He also handed her a pair of heavy socks, which she donned before stepping out into the cold night air. She tucked the orb into a pocket, unsure of what Killian was so concerned about, if not the memories of the dream.
Even with the well-insulated and slightly oversized garments, the climate was unkind to the point of painful.
Nevertheless, she followed him down the hatch and into the snail-shell-shaped beacon room, and it was only then that she realized why the temperature was casting their shared dreaming experience to Killian's second concern. The last time she had been in this room, it was as a roaring furnace, yet now it was no warmer than the floor above it.
He peeked around the first curve, then walked beyond it. She almost followed, but she remembered the blinding light of the beacon and hesitated.
"Bloody hell," he said as he returned.
"Did the fire go out?" she asked.
"Swan, the Sole Beacon of Northedge was not lit by mere fire," he said. "There's a reason the Snare of Hephaestus was here. It guarded the Unending Flame."
"The Unending Flame?" she repeated. "The fire that Zeus hid from humanity as punishment?"
"Aye, the very same," he replied. "Our extended sleep allowed someone to steal it."
"Why would somebody steal it?" she asked. "And how?"
"I don't know, Swan, and it hardly matters," he replied. "Don't you understand? For the first time in millennia, the Sole Beacon of Northedge has gone dark."
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Chapter 25: An Imitation of Prometheus
Artist: LiamJcnes
Primary Post: Lament of the Asphodels
Chapter Notes
Dione was a Titaness in Greek mythology, associated with the Oracle of Dodona, who would divine the next course of action by listening to the rustling of leaves in the sacred grove.