Lament of the Asphodels - Chapter 27: For the Footfall of Artemis
Title: For the Footfall of Artemis, Chapter 27 of Lament of the Asphodels
Author dracox-serdriel
Artist: LiamJcnes
Word count: 2,100
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]
Killian woke to a burning in his eye. Rushed to ease the startling discomfort, he inelegantly dragged his hand across his face, where he gathered several strands of golden hair that had flown into his brow at the will of the rolling dawn breeze. The stinging subsided in ebbs and eddies, and he relaxed in equal measures, slipping back into the sweet surrender of sleep with only the faintest flourishes of wakefulness holding him on the edge of consciousness, where he delighted in the blissful limbo between the fantasy of his dreams and the comfort of blanketed warmth.
The wind lashed out abruptly, cutting through the protection of the quilt and jarring him awake with its icy tendrils. He instinctively tensed to conserve heat, and in so doing, he brought Emma tight to his chest. She barely stirred at the onslaught of frozen air, though she mumbled a string of nonsense as she buried her head in his chest.
"Morning, love," he whispered in her ear.
She had yet to awaken fully, for her wont was to rise late, even more so on days like this, when she felt she could lounge in bed till sundown. She curled against the firm body wrapped around hers, and a playful smile came to her lips as she recalled events from the night previous, which flooded her with such euphoric energy that her eyes snapped open. Had she still been in some stupor of sleep, the blaze of the sun overhead would've shaken her from it.
"Morning," she grumbled in reply.
"Spot of breakfast?"
"Do I have to move?"
"Aye, and it's best if we do so now," he said gently. "We're out in the open. Only a matter of time before someone happens upon us."
They dressed haphazardly and half-covered with the quilt before consuming a cold and paltry breakfast. They likewise packed hastily and perhaps somewhat unwisely, for they were determined to clear any sign of their camp thoroughly, lest they be tracked by some manner of enemy or random miscreant with the will to do them harm. Killian obscured any remaining vestiges as Emma double-checked the concealment of the rowboat. Unfortunately, their speed did precious little to counter their late-morning lingering, for they had slept hours beyond the dawn. By the time Killian discovered their bearings and Emma, the trail head, midday was upon them.
It was fortunate Killian knew something of the landscape, for there were many miles between the shore and the plains and more yet to the edge of the forest. They spent most of the day under the blaring heat of the sun with scarcely a shadow for comfort. Neither desired any additional delay, but they stopped outside the tree line to consume a very late and equally light lunch, which was hindered by the effects of their hurried morning packing.
Naturally, Emma felt that they deserved the reprieve of the late afternoon clouds, which afforded them a spot of shade as their meal came to a close, but Killian reacted as if a looming danger had announced itself. Without an iota of explanation, he scrambled to their packs and dug out an assortment of oddities, upsetting their already messy packs.
"Emma, we need to act quickly," he said, as if only noticing now that she had not joined him in his frenzy. "It may be upon us in minutes."
She had been too busy enjoying the dimming light to realize what such a thing forecasted, for it was far too early for dusk. The overcast was the herald of a storm front.
She immediately came to Killian's aid, and together they sorted the packs and donned their raingear with impressive speed. They even had a few minutes walking before the wind picked up and the sky opened, pelting them with heavy droplets of rain.
It didn't take long for the precipitation to rise into a full-fledged rainstorm, which was mercifully free of thunder and lightning. The discomfort of their trek increased tenfold, however, for the din of the tempest drowned out everything, robbing them of one another's company. Perhaps that was why the latter part of the day seemed endless in length.
The storm waned as dusk fell, and Emma wondered if they would reach their destination soon or if they'd camp to avoid hiking in the dark. Neither option was particularly tempting. Before she could vocalize her thoughts, however, a sign appeared in the distance, and both increased their pace as their endurance rebounded on the faintest glimmer of hope. She could make out heavy lettering, though the words remained foggy and elusive, yet she was certain that it announced their arrival at the stables. She was so sure of this fact that she did not notice the sign's message was naught but nonsense; indeed, she failed to realize the lettering was enchanted until she was only a few feet away.
Once alerted, she halted immediately, throwing her arm out across Killian's chest to arrest his momentum. He silently obeyed but could not help the confused scowl that blossomed on his face, for he saw no reason for caution.
"Something's wrong," she said in a hush.
That was all she had time to say before the world went black for both of them.
Her next memory was of intense pain followed by a permeating feeling of illness that glued her eyes shut, for she was certain that whatever she saw would only make matters worse. She slowly became aware of a continuous swaying motion along with a constant clip, clop, clip, clop that seemed distant. As her aches receded, her strength grew, and she shifted her weight to test her body, to see if she was ready to rise.
Emma's hands protested, and with a pang of horror, she recognized that she was bound. She held back the panic and the fear erupting within, yet even so, her breath soon turned labored as her heart drummed up a tantrum of blood so fierce it threatened to burst from every pore.
"Brave," a cold, female voice spoke. "But pointless. Don't bother being coy, dear. I know you're awake."
Emma knew that voice, but it couldn't be. She was dead.
Everyone here is dead, she reminded herself.
She sat up and forced her eyes open, unwilling to lay helpless in the presence of an enemy. She vaguely registered that she was inside a carriage, but her focus fell entirely on the woman she'd hoped never to see again.
"Cora," she said stiffly.
"So informal, Second Keeper," Cora replied. "It's the Mayor to you. Do sit."
To her dismay, magic lifted her from the floor of the transport and slammed into the seat opposite Cora. Hoping that the villain would be too distracted by her gloating to notice, Emma began to channel her magic, focusing it so she could free herself of the rope.
"Where's Killian?" she asked.
"Killian?" Cora repeated in disbelief. "Do you mean to tell me that you actually fell in love with some loathsome lighthouse Keeper! Foolish girl!"
"Where is he?"
"Tell you what," she replied. "I'll tell you where he is if you answer one question for me."
Emma could muster no more than a begrudging silence as agreement. Her magic wouldn't pool at her command, nor did it shake the bindings free of her wrists. Something was blocking her powers.
"How did you die?"
Emma jolted at the unexpected question and balked, "What?"
"It's hardly a complicated question. I died after your mother transferred a deadly poison from the Dark One to my heart with a cursed candle and then tricked my own daughter into returning it to my chest," Cora explained. "And you?"
"The Dark One," she replied.
"The Dark One?" Cora repeated, a thrill of laughter escaping her lips thereafter. "It certainly serves your mother right, doesn't it? She murdered me to save him, and then he turns around and kills you."
Cora smiled smugly at the thought as she relaxed into her seat, her posture still rigid and regal. They rode silently for a few minutes, each expecting the other to speak.
"Killian," Emma said. "You said you'd tell me - "
Cora interrupted, "Only after you answer my question."
"I just did!"
"You told me who, not how."
Emma bit her lip to stall, but Cora clearly wasn't going to tell her what she'd done to Killian until she got what she wanted. What option did Emma have? She needed to know what happened to him.
"Sword to the heart," she said tersely.
"We both know that your heart is protected."
"So did he," Emma replied. "Which is why he enchanted it."
"What is it about your death that you're so desperate to keep secret?" Cora asked. "I doubt the Savior had anything less than a blaze of glory."
Cora snapped her fingers, and every muscle in Emma's body clenched into unmoving tension. It wasn't painful, but neither could she relax. In fact, all she could move was her eyes and eye lids.
She blinked, and Cora was suddenly within an arm's reach with a single index finger extended dramatically, a faint purple glow emanating from the tip. It pressed hard into the center of her forehead, and she went cross-eyed trying to follow it. She knew the spell Cora was conjuring, for it was similar to the magic of Dreamcatchers, which draw out memories, though this spell sussed out secrets instead.
If she could have, Emma would've smiled, for while the spell was powerful, it sought all secrets in equal measure, then honed in those most deeply guarded by the heart. Any secret could lead astray, so she latched onto the most recent one, specifically the location of the rowboat left ashore, and guarded it with everything she had.
The magic burned against her skin, and her secrets flashed before her mind's eye in swift succession: the woman she lied to protect from her abusive husband; Graham, her previous feelings for him still unconfessed; the many things she'd never had a chance to say to Henry. The more she saw, the quicker they went, becoming more and more brief as they did so. She saw flickers of conversation with Regina, her father, her father... she even had a view of Rumpelstiltskin, her parents, Henry, Regina, and Robin standing in a dark corridor before the image of the hidden rowboat overwhelmed it.
Then it all stopped, and Cora withdrew her hand. It took Emma a moment to recognize that she could move again.
"Clever girl," Cora remarked, though by her tone made it plain that it was the exact opposite of what she thought.
Then she huffed a mirthless laugh before she pursed her lips as she shook her head, no.
"Did you really expect me to believe that Rumple killed you?" she asked, her voice derisive. "Don't you want to know what happened to the Keeper? The only way you'll find out is if you tell me how you died."
"Why do you care?" Emma countered. "Dead is dead."
"Except when it isn't," Cora said, her perception sharp as a barb. "Because you are more foolish than my daughter and even your own mother, walking into the Underworld for a pirate!"
"Why did you do to him?" Emma demanded, unable to hide the venom in her voice.
The smile on Cora's wicked face could make serpents slither away in revulsion. With a wave of her hand, she rendered Emma mute.
"I suppose now that I have the only living soul in the Underworld, there's no harm in telling you about the pirate's fate," Cora said. "It was nothing personal, you understand. I never had anything against Hook. In fact, he proved an adequate ally at one point, but he had served his purpose long ago. Now, well, he was a complication, an obstacle, for my plans. He would never stop trying to save you, to defend you, and I couldn't have that. I cut off his head and banished his body rom this realm."
Emma struggled fruitlessly against her restraints, desperate to escape and rescue Killian, but if anything, the ropes tightened against her skin. She wanted to cry out, to scream, because if he was dead, if he wasn't in this realm, then she had failed. All was lost.
Cora watched her railing misery with naught but indifference, save for the shine of malice in her eyes.
"Didn't I tell you, dear? Love is weakness."
<<< Previous:
Chapter 26: Ariadne, Dionysus, and the Minotaur
Next: >>>
Chapter 28: With the Hubris of Bellerophon
Artist: LiamJcnes
Primary Post: Lament of the Asphodels
Chapter Notes
In Greek mythology, Artemis is the goddess of the hunt, wild animals, and the wilderness.
Author dracox-serdriel
Artist: LiamJcnes
Word count: 2,100
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]
Killian woke to a burning in his eye. Rushed to ease the startling discomfort, he inelegantly dragged his hand across his face, where he gathered several strands of golden hair that had flown into his brow at the will of the rolling dawn breeze. The stinging subsided in ebbs and eddies, and he relaxed in equal measures, slipping back into the sweet surrender of sleep with only the faintest flourishes of wakefulness holding him on the edge of consciousness, where he delighted in the blissful limbo between the fantasy of his dreams and the comfort of blanketed warmth.
The wind lashed out abruptly, cutting through the protection of the quilt and jarring him awake with its icy tendrils. He instinctively tensed to conserve heat, and in so doing, he brought Emma tight to his chest. She barely stirred at the onslaught of frozen air, though she mumbled a string of nonsense as she buried her head in his chest.
"Morning, love," he whispered in her ear.
She had yet to awaken fully, for her wont was to rise late, even more so on days like this, when she felt she could lounge in bed till sundown. She curled against the firm body wrapped around hers, and a playful smile came to her lips as she recalled events from the night previous, which flooded her with such euphoric energy that her eyes snapped open. Had she still been in some stupor of sleep, the blaze of the sun overhead would've shaken her from it.
"Morning," she grumbled in reply.
"Spot of breakfast?"
"Do I have to move?"
"Aye, and it's best if we do so now," he said gently. "We're out in the open. Only a matter of time before someone happens upon us."
They dressed haphazardly and half-covered with the quilt before consuming a cold and paltry breakfast. They likewise packed hastily and perhaps somewhat unwisely, for they were determined to clear any sign of their camp thoroughly, lest they be tracked by some manner of enemy or random miscreant with the will to do them harm. Killian obscured any remaining vestiges as Emma double-checked the concealment of the rowboat. Unfortunately, their speed did precious little to counter their late-morning lingering, for they had slept hours beyond the dawn. By the time Killian discovered their bearings and Emma, the trail head, midday was upon them.
It was fortunate Killian knew something of the landscape, for there were many miles between the shore and the plains and more yet to the edge of the forest. They spent most of the day under the blaring heat of the sun with scarcely a shadow for comfort. Neither desired any additional delay, but they stopped outside the tree line to consume a very late and equally light lunch, which was hindered by the effects of their hurried morning packing.
Naturally, Emma felt that they deserved the reprieve of the late afternoon clouds, which afforded them a spot of shade as their meal came to a close, but Killian reacted as if a looming danger had announced itself. Without an iota of explanation, he scrambled to their packs and dug out an assortment of oddities, upsetting their already messy packs.
"Emma, we need to act quickly," he said, as if only noticing now that she had not joined him in his frenzy. "It may be upon us in minutes."
She had been too busy enjoying the dimming light to realize what such a thing forecasted, for it was far too early for dusk. The overcast was the herald of a storm front.
She immediately came to Killian's aid, and together they sorted the packs and donned their raingear with impressive speed. They even had a few minutes walking before the wind picked up and the sky opened, pelting them with heavy droplets of rain.
It didn't take long for the precipitation to rise into a full-fledged rainstorm, which was mercifully free of thunder and lightning. The discomfort of their trek increased tenfold, however, for the din of the tempest drowned out everything, robbing them of one another's company. Perhaps that was why the latter part of the day seemed endless in length.
The storm waned as dusk fell, and Emma wondered if they would reach their destination soon or if they'd camp to avoid hiking in the dark. Neither option was particularly tempting. Before she could vocalize her thoughts, however, a sign appeared in the distance, and both increased their pace as their endurance rebounded on the faintest glimmer of hope. She could make out heavy lettering, though the words remained foggy and elusive, yet she was certain that it announced their arrival at the stables. She was so sure of this fact that she did not notice the sign's message was naught but nonsense; indeed, she failed to realize the lettering was enchanted until she was only a few feet away.
Once alerted, she halted immediately, throwing her arm out across Killian's chest to arrest his momentum. He silently obeyed but could not help the confused scowl that blossomed on his face, for he saw no reason for caution.
"Something's wrong," she said in a hush.
That was all she had time to say before the world went black for both of them.
Her next memory was of intense pain followed by a permeating feeling of illness that glued her eyes shut, for she was certain that whatever she saw would only make matters worse. She slowly became aware of a continuous swaying motion along with a constant clip, clop, clip, clop that seemed distant. As her aches receded, her strength grew, and she shifted her weight to test her body, to see if she was ready to rise.
Emma's hands protested, and with a pang of horror, she recognized that she was bound. She held back the panic and the fear erupting within, yet even so, her breath soon turned labored as her heart drummed up a tantrum of blood so fierce it threatened to burst from every pore.
"Brave," a cold, female voice spoke. "But pointless. Don't bother being coy, dear. I know you're awake."
Emma knew that voice, but it couldn't be. She was dead.
Everyone here is dead, she reminded herself.
She sat up and forced her eyes open, unwilling to lay helpless in the presence of an enemy. She vaguely registered that she was inside a carriage, but her focus fell entirely on the woman she'd hoped never to see again.
"Cora," she said stiffly.
"So informal, Second Keeper," Cora replied. "It's the Mayor to you. Do sit."
To her dismay, magic lifted her from the floor of the transport and slammed into the seat opposite Cora. Hoping that the villain would be too distracted by her gloating to notice, Emma began to channel her magic, focusing it so she could free herself of the rope.
"Where's Killian?" she asked.
"Killian?" Cora repeated in disbelief. "Do you mean to tell me that you actually fell in love with some loathsome lighthouse Keeper! Foolish girl!"
"Where is he?"
"Tell you what," she replied. "I'll tell you where he is if you answer one question for me."
Emma could muster no more than a begrudging silence as agreement. Her magic wouldn't pool at her command, nor did it shake the bindings free of her wrists. Something was blocking her powers.
"How did you die?"
Emma jolted at the unexpected question and balked, "What?"
"It's hardly a complicated question. I died after your mother transferred a deadly poison from the Dark One to my heart with a cursed candle and then tricked my own daughter into returning it to my chest," Cora explained. "And you?"
"The Dark One," she replied.
"The Dark One?" Cora repeated, a thrill of laughter escaping her lips thereafter. "It certainly serves your mother right, doesn't it? She murdered me to save him, and then he turns around and kills you."
Cora smiled smugly at the thought as she relaxed into her seat, her posture still rigid and regal. They rode silently for a few minutes, each expecting the other to speak.
"Killian," Emma said. "You said you'd tell me - "
Cora interrupted, "Only after you answer my question."
"I just did!"
"You told me who, not how."
Emma bit her lip to stall, but Cora clearly wasn't going to tell her what she'd done to Killian until she got what she wanted. What option did Emma have? She needed to know what happened to him.
"Sword to the heart," she said tersely.
"We both know that your heart is protected."
"So did he," Emma replied. "Which is why he enchanted it."
"What is it about your death that you're so desperate to keep secret?" Cora asked. "I doubt the Savior had anything less than a blaze of glory."
Cora snapped her fingers, and every muscle in Emma's body clenched into unmoving tension. It wasn't painful, but neither could she relax. In fact, all she could move was her eyes and eye lids.
She blinked, and Cora was suddenly within an arm's reach with a single index finger extended dramatically, a faint purple glow emanating from the tip. It pressed hard into the center of her forehead, and she went cross-eyed trying to follow it. She knew the spell Cora was conjuring, for it was similar to the magic of Dreamcatchers, which draw out memories, though this spell sussed out secrets instead.
If she could have, Emma would've smiled, for while the spell was powerful, it sought all secrets in equal measure, then honed in those most deeply guarded by the heart. Any secret could lead astray, so she latched onto the most recent one, specifically the location of the rowboat left ashore, and guarded it with everything she had.
The magic burned against her skin, and her secrets flashed before her mind's eye in swift succession: the woman she lied to protect from her abusive husband; Graham, her previous feelings for him still unconfessed; the many things she'd never had a chance to say to Henry. The more she saw, the quicker they went, becoming more and more brief as they did so. She saw flickers of conversation with Regina, her father, her father... she even had a view of Rumpelstiltskin, her parents, Henry, Regina, and Robin standing in a dark corridor before the image of the hidden rowboat overwhelmed it.
Then it all stopped, and Cora withdrew her hand. It took Emma a moment to recognize that she could move again.
"Clever girl," Cora remarked, though by her tone made it plain that it was the exact opposite of what she thought.
Then she huffed a mirthless laugh before she pursed her lips as she shook her head, no.
"Did you really expect me to believe that Rumple killed you?" she asked, her voice derisive. "Don't you want to know what happened to the Keeper? The only way you'll find out is if you tell me how you died."
"Why do you care?" Emma countered. "Dead is dead."
"Except when it isn't," Cora said, her perception sharp as a barb. "Because you are more foolish than my daughter and even your own mother, walking into the Underworld for a pirate!"
"Why did you do to him?" Emma demanded, unable to hide the venom in her voice.
The smile on Cora's wicked face could make serpents slither away in revulsion. With a wave of her hand, she rendered Emma mute.
"I suppose now that I have the only living soul in the Underworld, there's no harm in telling you about the pirate's fate," Cora said. "It was nothing personal, you understand. I never had anything against Hook. In fact, he proved an adequate ally at one point, but he had served his purpose long ago. Now, well, he was a complication, an obstacle, for my plans. He would never stop trying to save you, to defend you, and I couldn't have that. I cut off his head and banished his body rom this realm."
Emma struggled fruitlessly against her restraints, desperate to escape and rescue Killian, but if anything, the ropes tightened against her skin. She wanted to cry out, to scream, because if he was dead, if he wasn't in this realm, then she had failed. All was lost.
Cora watched her railing misery with naught but indifference, save for the shine of malice in her eyes.
"Didn't I tell you, dear? Love is weakness."
<<< Previous:
Chapter 26: Ariadne, Dionysus, and the Minotaur
Next: >>>
Chapter 28: With the Hubris of Bellerophon
Artist: LiamJcnes
Primary Post: Lament of the Asphodels
Chapter Notes
In Greek mythology, Artemis is the goddess of the hunt, wild animals, and the wilderness.