Chapter Text
PART 1
It is not the good that become legends.
It may be true that legends are borne of the brave, but the brave are not all heroes. Legends are borne of the power-hungry; the vengeful; the rash. To be a legend is to be cursed—or else, it is to live until you become a curse itself.
Killian Jones was once cursed, and he lives now as a legend.
Killian Jones is not a good man.
And Emma Swan, daughter of heroes, fair of heart as she is of beauty, has always been good.
It was because of goodness that she was now alone as she was, holding tight to the mast as the winds threatened to billow her into the sea, whispering prayers under her breath to the gods—gods she thought might really only be legends, but that sort of philosophizing was moot while just on the verge of drowning.
Her people knew her as a good ruler, and maybe even a good hero—and right now, she begrudged nothing more.
Heroes tend to die; she always knew this, always accepted it as her eventual fate. Even her parents had warned her so, lucky to be alive as they were. But face to face with the true weight of it now, she was beginning to feel that goodness had its misgivings.
To be fair, she wasn’t even supposed to be here in the first place; the sea was a foreign land to her. She was never meant to be the hero of this particular journey, and her parents had told her as much. But here she was, anyway—for if not her, who else?
Who else would be willing to put their life at risk for her people like this, all to try to lift that veil of fear that had been tormenting the Enchanted Forest for all these years now?
Who, if not her, would be willing to slay the Kraken?
And so she held on with her white-knuckle grip, muttering spells in a futile attempt to still the waves. Her magic was strong, sure—but it was a pitiful match for an ocean.
A well-timed rhyme in a language she could barely pronounce steadied her feet just as they began to fumble over the current. One second later, and she would’ve been done for; it was a thought that kept the adrenaline pumping as the rope burned her palms.
It was her tenth night out on the water, waiting to catch sight of it, and the stormiest by far. An omen, she figured. Or that was what the books said, anyway; stormy nights, when the moon waned dim—because, of course, heroism could never be easy.
She cursed under her breath. If it didn’t appear soon, she’d capsize with the storm before she could even make her attack.
What she did have, at least, was an advantage: a sort of medallion, with a carefully altered locator spell—something that would alert her of the Kraken’s presence before it knew of hers. And as she yanked it out from under her cloak, her stomach dropped. It was glowing, and glowing bright.
Shit. She hid it back away, afraid of the attention the light might draw, and immediately started rehearsing her most potent curses in her head as she narrowed her eyes to the ocean expanse. Her heart was pounding, and she hoped to the gods that she was the only one that could hear it.
It had to be here—maybe even right under her feet.
And that was when she saw it.
Almost a thing of awe, only a few feet out; massive and glistening, eyes like glowing embers against the thunderous sky. Almost more beautiful than horrific—and yet she stood paralyzed at the sight, her mind blank in the sudden wash of raw fear.
The fucking Kraken. So it was real, after all.
And real enough, apparently, to thrash a massive arm to the water; real enough to send her reeling, cursing and casting all in one breath.
It was easy to see why a monster like this had the kingdom in a chokehold of fear. Even with all of her magic, she’d need to do all she could just to keep from drowning.
She’d come in with a plan, obviously. She’d done the research, memorized the spells, sharpened her harpoon. But here, now, face to face? How small she felt, and how unsteady on her feet?
She was going to die, she was sure of it—and the only question was whether or not she could take this thing down with her.
Before she could give in to the doubts, she sent a fiery pulse of magic hurling towards its eye. But it was quick to notice, and ducked below the water before it could hit. Shit. She’d hoped that she could use its size to her advantage, assuming it would be a slow-moving target; but it was clearly quicker than she—and all her books—gave it credit for.
She narrowed her eyes, looking for its shadow beneath the ocean surface, and readied her hands as she caught sight. She wanted to tell herself that it was fine, that she was in control, but the way her hands shook betrayed her fear.
She swallowed, clenching and unclenching a fist. She had to stay stable; her own magic depended on it.
What was the plan again? Wound, stun, harpoon. That simple.
And she was on step one: wound. So she focused her whole mind on that single task. It was the only way she was going to be able to make it through this without succumbing to the panic.
Wound. All she had to do was wound it. And the second that she noticed it rear its head above the water, she punched a strong blast of magic out from her palms.
And it actually hit that time—she nearly tipped over from the relief. It was only an arm, a single tentacle rising above the ocean surface; but it was something . And the Kraken, in all its writhing glory, dove below the water once again.
Just a few more hits, and it would be over. She took a deep breath, shaking out her hands, pulsing them with the adrenaline high. A mite of hope bubbled up in her chest; she might just survive this.
She scanned the water again, readying herself for another spell. This one, if she did it right, would be draining—but it should be enough to bring the monster down for the final few blows. Another deep breath, and another, as she waited for it to reappear.
But a few too many seconds passed without catching sight of it, and she was starting to feel the anxiety brewing once again. Was it gone? Was that it? Did she miss her chance, would it be all healed by the time she found it again—
A sudden upwards crash lurched her across the deck, and she slammed into the hard wood with a painful thud. Fucking hell. That’s why she couldn’t see it—it was underneath the boat.
She didn’t have time to feel afraid; she had to act. So she muttered the first few spells that came into her head—something that would steady her boat, and then a curse at the Kraken to temporarily weaken its arms—praying that they could keep her afloat before she made her next move.
But the boat lurched again. Did her spell not work? Was this monster just too big to feel an impact?
And as she whipped her head, casting a burst of raw energy from her palms, she knew that she was done for. It barely flinched at the hit; it simply used a few different arms, and began to slowly crush her boat as the wood splintered and whined.
And even though she knew that it would do nothing, she cast another burst of magic, and then another; but it did nothing but quiver a heavy arm. And in one reeling motion, the whole boat lurched up and out of the water—and this time, she wasn’t quick enough to steady her feet.
She careened down, colliding into the railing, but the boat lurched again; and it all happened so fast. And next she knew, she was gasping for air in the middle of the ocean current.
Heroes die. It was the thought playing through her head on loop as she thrashed her arms at the water’s surface, as she watched her boat slowly crumble under the Kraken’s grip. Heroes die, she thought, as the world went dark around the edges, and I never got to be one.
She woke up with a cough, sputtering as the fiery burn of saltwater rose up in her throat.
Remembering how to breathe was her first thought; figuring out if she was alive or dead was the second.
“Awake, are we?”
She blinked, eyes languid and heavy, to the sight of a man—a strange man, handsome in that renegade sort of way. Sharp, debonair, and looming, leaning back in his chair with an eyebrow raised. At first glance, her addled brain didn’t even question it; but after another blink, her senses began roaring back.
“Who the hell are you?”
“Hm. Gratitude not your forte, is it?”
“What?”
“Neither is sailing, apparently…so what are you good for?”
“Excuse me?”
“Money, perhaps? Or maybe you’ve always coasted by on your looks?”
Groggy, disoriented, and suddenly feeling the splitting pain of at least a dozen misused muscles, she could only rub her eyes and blink in response. But at least one thing seemed to be clear—her body felt painfully alive.
“Where are my manners, love ? Killian’s the name. Killian Jones.” He lifted a hand to hers, and she pointedly ignored it.
“Why—what the… shit, where’s my boat?”
“Ah…your boat.” He looked askance, a wry sort of smile on his lips. “It, ah…well, it might be salvageable for parts, I’ll give it that much.”
She felt a thrum of nausea, even as she’d seen the wreck with her own eyes; she was lucky to be alive as it was. But she rubbed a weary hand across her face all the same. “Oh, fuck me…”
“Pity, really. It was a beautiful thing, however small…”
“Did it…where is it? Did my…oh god, all my stuff is… shit.”
“Well, if it means anything to you, the cabin remains intact…so perhaps you should count yourself as lucky?”
She let out a breath in an unsteady puff. That was good news—miraculous, really—but somehow, it didn’t make the situation feel a whole lot better. “Shit…”
“You may be a terrible sailor, love, but you sure swear like one—”
“You would too if you just lost your fucking boat!”
“Hm…touché.” He smiled, so calm that it felt almost patronizing; she groaned in return.
“Okay, so…fuck. Where am I, then?”
“Ah. You’re on my ship now, actually.”
“Oh…” She took a look around, the reality of the situation finally sinking in—the surprisingly comfortable bed she now sat in; the wide, wooden interiors; glinting candelabras; a menagerie of odd trinkets and treasures. It would be almost nice, if the circumstances were better. “I suppose that I should thank you.”
“Ah, yes! I suppose that you should!” He leaned in, a glint in his eye. “I did go through some of your things, by the way. Call it a tax; a minimal price to pay for your life, I think. And I couldn’t help but notice a few things that might do well in terms of…payment.”
Payment? She narrowed her eyes, speaking almost under her breath. “You’re a pirate, aren’t you?”
“Oh, was that not obvious from the start?”
“Of course it had to be pirates…”
“Beggars can’t be choosers, love.”
“Yeah, whatever.” She rubbed at her eyes again, still a little scratchy from the saltwater, and sighed. “I do appreciate it, by the way. Truly. I’m just…I don’t know, drowning sort of fucks with your head a little.”
“This was clearly only your first time overboard, then.” He extracted a flask from the lining of his coat and took a swig before offering it to her, and she took it before she could begin to second guess. “What was a rich thing like you doing out on the sea all alone, anyway?”
She took a long drag, coughing a little as it went down. “I’m trying to kill a Kraken.”
His smile dropped—so sudden, she almost flinched. “You’re mad.”
“It’s my duty.”
“Your duty? Why the hell is it your duty?”
She shrugged. “Someone has to do it.”
“Gods, though, that’s a fool’s errand!” He stood up in a sudden motion, and she couldn’t help but notice his height—he could’ve cut an intimidating figure, if frustration and pain weren't clouding her better judgment. “The bloody—may I remind you that you nearly just died?”
“Yeah, I know—and if I die killing it, I’ll save hundreds of lives in turn—”
“You won’t kill it, though. Nothing can kill a Kraken.”
“Well, obviously something can. Everything dies.”
“Legends don’t die, love.” His voice turned surprisingly sincere, and it was enough of a shock that she dropped her voice in turn.
“Yeah, well…heroes do.” She smiled, hollow, playing at the sheets beneath her fingertips. She had a second chance, now; the weight of that realization thrummed in her chest. “And that’s kind of my thing.”
He narrowed his eyes and took the flask from her outstretched palm, shaking his head a little before throwing back another swig. “Of course, the one time I try to save someone’s life, they’ve got a bloody death wish…”
“No, I—” She sat up, wincing at the pain in her ribs. “I’m just trying to do something good!”
“Good? Look where good has gotten you so far.”
“Look, I’m doing this whether you like it or not, so,” she swung her heavy feet over the side of the bed, “thank you for everything. But I’ve gotta assess the damage to my boat.”
“Why are you getting up? You’re in no position to—”
“I’m fine.” She grit her teeth, feeling the pain of a thousand knives to her every muscle—and she wouldn’t dare let this guy see it get to her.
“Bloody heroes with their complexes—”
“Can you show me to my stuff? I need to pay you.”
And he grinned, back in a wink to the pirate he’d been. “Thought you’d never ask.”
She launched herself unsteadily to her feet, waving an arm to him to lead the way.
“You’re sure you’re good enough to walk?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” A lie; but she’d done more through worse.
“Hm.”
“Hey, are you okay?” She was surprised to see that he was limping ahead of her—doing a poor job to hide it, but the bandage around his calf made it all the more obvious.
“What? Why?”
“Your leg.”
“Oh, that?” He smiled, just a little too wide—a reaction she recognized all too well. “Aye, I’m fine. Just a scratch.”
“That looks worse than a scratch to me.”
“Well, you don’t look much better yourself, love.”
“Ouch, okay—”
“What? Hey, if you think it’s mussed up that nice face of yours, you’re fine—but you’re not so good at hiding the fact that you’re about to keel over with one wrong step.”
She couldn’t dispute it; but she could resent it. So she followed him in silence for a minute, noting her surroundings as they climbed above deck. There were a few more people up here—the crew, she figured—and they all stopped what they were doing to watch as she limped her way across the ship. She ignored it as best she could; their curiosity was the least of her worries right now.
“Hey, uh…did you get hurt when you, uh…when you rescued me?”
Killian turned around for a brief moment before shaking his head. “Battle accident. Don’t worry, you can absolve that guilt of yours.”
“Oh…still, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I deserved it.”
And as she racked her brain for something to say—anything that a pirate might appreciate in the way of comfort—she saw it: her boat, as was now clear before her eyes, was completely totaled.
She couldn’t help but feel a pang, walking down to the wreckage. It’s not like she loved it or anything, not really—but it had been a home away from home for all this time. Her ticket to heroism, to carving her own path; and it was hard not to feel like those dreams were splintering with the wood at her feet.
Even Killian grimaced at the sight. “Oh, it’s even worse than I remembered…”
She scrambled into the wreckage, and he followed suit—he seemed to know which boards to lift, and she wasn’t feeling so proud as to deny the help.
“Jeez, I can barely recognize anything in here.”
“That’s what the Kraken will do to your bones if you go back after it, by the way.”
She ignored his words, and yanked the jutted door to the cabin. He’d been right; by some miracle, she hadn’t lost her stuff.
The spell books, the potions mixed for the most dangerous sorts of battle—they were all here. And she let out a breath of hope; she could still do this. All she needed was another chance, and maybe a better boat.
“What’s that?” Killian pointed to her medallion, glowing bright even in the darkness of the hull.
“Oh, I need that!” She grabbed it, throwing it quickly around her neck, and turned it over in her palm. How it got here, she couldn’t fathom—but she didn’t have the energy to care. “It’s got a locator charm on it, so I know where the Kraken is.”
“Ah…how does it work?”
“It’s supposed to glow brighter when it gets close.”
He narrowed his eyes. “It must be busted.”
“What? Why?”
“Look, it’s glowing now.”
“Yeah, but…” She furrowed her brows, tilting it in her hand as her heart started beating quick. “Shit, maybe it’s by us right now—”
“Doesn’t make a difference anyway, though, does it? We’re on land now.”
“No, wait, we’ve got to warn people—”
“You’d put so much confidence in that thing to shut down a whole port?”
“I mean, it’s better to have a false alarm than for people to die—”
“Look.” He took a step backwards, and—curiously—the glow began to subside. “It’s dimming down when I move away from it. Do I look like an angry fish to you?”
“The Kraken isn’t just a—” She trailed off, watching the light ebb and flow to his movement. “Shit, I must’ve done the spell wrong…”
“Sorry to burst your ego, love, it’s just—wouldn’t it be bad to put everyone in a panic for nothing?”
She raised the medallion to the level of her eye, a feeble attempt to assess where she went wrong. “This worked when I found it last night, though…”
“Maybe my great-grandmother was part squid?”
She flashed a glare his way, and started stuffing books and trinkets into the satchel that she found in a heap in the corner. “Here.” She pulled out a coin purse, and counted a few out in her palm. “Will this do for payment?”
He frowned. “You really value your own life that little?”
“Seriously?” She shook her head, counting out a few more. “Happy?”
“Hm. Better, I suppose.”
“Here.” She pulled the medallion over her neck and dropped it into the pile with a clang. “Like you said, this is busted. But maybe you can convince someone it’s worth something, I don’t know.”
“Ah, you think like a pirate.” He grinned as he took the offering, clattering it all together in his palm before pocketing the goods. “Hey, uh…I think we might’ve gotten off on the wrong foot, by the way. I understand you’re coming out of a near-death experience and all, but—”
“You’re right.” She shrugged, hoisting the satchel onto her shoulder as she started to make her way back out. She hated feeling indebted to a person like this; she almost preferred paying him to finding the words for her gratitude. “I’m sorry, I really do appreciate everything…”
“I know you do.” He raised a brow, but he spoke the words genuinely. “You’re a hero and all, you folks are all the same.”
She couldn’t help but smile at that.
“Anyway, I figured, if you’re going to be staying on with us for a while—”
“What?” She turned her head. “What do you mean, why would I be staying on?”
“I mean, I assume you need to rest a while still, and your boat—”
“Yeah, but I can handle it on my own.”
“I’m sure you can handle it, but we’ve—”
“I’ll be fine.” She pushed through the door again, squinting as the bright light of the outdoors came back into view. “I’ll find someone to get it fixed.”
“Well, I tried to do something nice—”
“You trying to pay off some karmic debt or something?” She squinted again, trying to scope out the town through the sunlight, and he only smiled a little coyly in return.
“I think, uh…” She turned her head to the side, looking out to the cobbled streets ahead. “I think I’m just going to get going now. But…thank you. For the offer.”
“Now? Already?”
“Yeah, I mean…I should get this all fixed right away.” She bit her lip as he eyed her curiously, suddenly feeling a pang of anxiety at the realization that she’d be going off alone again, and a bit of regret for the pirate’s offer; but she couldn’t do it, whatever her own heart wanted. She swallowed it down. “Hey, uh, Killian? Thanks again. I owe you my life, I guess.”
Something flickered in his eyes, something she couldn’t quite place; but she ignored the curiosity. She didn’t need to stick her nose into a pirate’s secrets—especially when she was never going to see him again. “It’s fine. I think we’re more than even.”
She nodded her head with an awkward smile, and started away; and there was an odd buzz in her stomach as she heard him call back out, and she stopped for a moment to look back his way.
“Can you at least tell me your name?”
She smiled, a sideways glance. “It’s Emma.”
“Just Emma?”
“Be grateful you got that much.”
“Good luck, Emma.” He laughed softly, something inscrutable behind his eyes. “You’re going to need it.”