Chapter Text
The windstorm had almost come to a complete halt; a dozen items of clothing and linen glided elegantly downwards, while others collapsed with a shockingly tremendous thud. The thunderous breeze had faded into an eerie whistle, and after a hearty meal of jam and bread- a meal which Killian spent most of his time going from mistrustfully eyeing the still very animated dolls to trying and failing to ignore them- he and Alice sat at their chess table for tea and biscuits. Alice was closer to getting back to her exuberant self. It filled his heart, watching her beam with enthusiasm, though he did worry she might be masking her true feelings. The dolls had been courteous enough to refill the pale of water, but he didn’t dare speculate on where they came upon it. It tasted water-y enough in all fairness.
“I’m sorry, Papa. Don’t know what happened. I didn’t see-”
“It’s okay, love. You knew this tower was capable of this sort of magic as much as I was. But how about we avoid staging any mutinies for a while? At least until I’ve found a solution to our doll problem. Aye?” Killian made a fleeting gesture towards the very irritated-looking dolls and Alice’s cheeks flushed scarlet.
“No more mutinies,” she chuckled.
“I’ll toast to that.” They held their tea cups at arm’s length and clinked them together.
In the silence, Killian couldn’t help pondering over whether the source of the calamity was truly Gothel’s enchantments. What if somehow, this was a manifestation of Alice’s magic? But Alice was no witch- how could she be? Nearly all the mages he’d encountered were malevolent and ruthless- not unlike himself in his prime. But not his Alice. He loathed the way the very notion made his blood run cold. Shared physical characteristics were one thing, but inherited magic from that witch was a foreboding prospect unto itself. He’d love her unconditionally either way, and he trusted she’d never follow in the Witch’s footsteps but he wasn’t mentally equipped to confront the idea of it just yet. Killian discarded the thought and convinced himself he was being ridiculous. All this was the product of a vengeful sorceress’ wrath and nothing more; likely the work of the same bewitchments that had spawned an abundance of essential sustenance all these years, albeit not always when they needed it. But then, why would the Witch be so magnanimous? Surely, she was incapable of such an altruistic act. Of course, the more chilling alternative was that she wasn’t being charitable at all. Somewhere in his soul he knew it was possible that the Witch needed Alice alive for whatever cruel, sadistic plot she’d been surreptitiously crafting. Any moment, she could announce she’s discovered a solution to freeing the tower’s prisoner, only to rip his beloved child from his arms and drag her away kicking and screaming, all whilst she kept him bound with chains of vine and he’d be forced to look on, utterly powerless to save his little girl, just as it had been when that vindictive Crocodile took Milah’s life. Or what if by some improbable coincidence, Alice did possess magical abilities, wanted to hone them and suddenly she didn’t need her Papa anymore, so she turned to Gothel who’d use her cunning to poison her mind against him? Or worse she could…… He couldn’t allow himself to finish that train of thought. It was too unthinkable, far too horrifying to ever entertain. He’d give his own life a thousand times over, and infinitely more before he allowed any of that to happen. He had to stop giving way to these torturous thoughts but he just never felt Alice could truly be out of peril so long as this godsforsaken bird’s cage belonged to the sorceress. And still the tormenting ideas clawed their way into his nightmares and haunted him restless night after restless night.
He was beckoned back to the present when he realized Alice’s smile had faded. Whispers from the ghosts of their argument were no doubt the reason for her now melancholy expression. But again, deep down he knew the scars ran a lot deeper than what was on the surface.
“You alright there, lass?”
Alice nodded unconvincingly.
“How about a game of chess. Let’s see if I can beat you this time around, shall we?”
He reset the board and just when he proceeded to pick up one of his white knights, the table started quivering beneath him. His eyebrows knitted together at this but he ultimately put it down to the shift in weight when he removed his elbow from it. But when he momentarily paused to scan their surroundings, he immediately learned that it wasn’t just the table.
Without warning, the floor beneath them trembled furiously and debris from the topmost part of the tower rained over Killian and Alice’s heads. Killian raced to protect his child. She shrieked and leapt to her feet before timidly shrinking to his side. He held her close, his hand firmly clutching his sword. The dolls scuttled around in a panicked frenzy, howling in terror, some ramming themselves directly into the walls and furnishing.
Hook blinked and gaped at the outlandish scene. This had to all be a figment of his imagination. When would they be given a reprieve? When was he going to awaken from this nightmarish dream? Now was as good a time as any, but evidently there was no slumber to rouse from. The ground beneath them ruptured, the lengthening cracks trickled towards them and the whole structure shook so violently, it felt as if it might collapse at any moment.
Next minute, what looked like the apexes of numerous oversized helmets, miters and a few horses’ heads began gradually emerging from the surface of the room. He reversed into the wall just behind the chess table, retaining a tight grip on Alice- who objectively appeared more petrified than he’d ever seen her. The floor underneath the table splintered horribly and what Killian assumed to be the top of a gigantic, ivory crown seemed to be battling to break its way through the floor. But in time, he saw it wasn’t a crown at all. They were the merlons of an enormous rook. These were chess pieces!
Black clouds appeared to materialize from nowhere. A fork of lightning struck the roof of their home, small fragments of stone cascaded from the heavens. The air grew heavy and the humidity pressed down, suffocating. The scent of rain was dark and heady. A stillness encompassed the clearing, but soon the quietude was disrupted by the bellowing crackle of thunder. The icy rainwater showered in through the nearby window, drenching Killian from the side.
In a flash, the rook skewered the table with its keen edges, crashing into the entire table set. The furniture was propelled through the air and flipped over, imperiling both Killian and Alice. Killian scooped Alice into his arms and weaved his way through the emerging chess pieces as fast as he could, taking care to peer upwards at sporadic intervals to ensure nothing was in danger of dropping on top of them. What panicked him most of all was the fact that although, in theory, he could descend the tower and get out of harm’s way in an instant, Alice was cursed to remain there come hell or highwater. Their home was razing itself before their eyes, with them in the middle of it, and there was nothing he could do to aid her in escaping. He’d never felt more helpless or sick with worry.
“Papa, what’s happening?!” His Starfish screamed.
Killian scanned the tower for somewhere, anywhere they could go without the risk of being scathed, swerving to avoid the rising chess pieces at every turn. Everywhere he looked, he saw black or white suits of armor, horses and faceless bishops emerging from the ground, as checkered marble slowly washed over what was once a timber floor. Killian squeezed Alice reassuringly, released her from his hold, enclasped her hand tight in his and they sprinted aimlessly together. Finally, he came upon an unimpeded path to the middle of the chess board.
“Alright, on the count of three we run to the center! Hold on tight!” Killian instructed, having to compete against the thunder’s deep growl. Alice nodded but continued to shudder with fear. “One! Two! Thr-”
The ground below Alice cracked open, the top of another gargantuan rook burst through it and hoisted her high into the air before either of them could register what was happening. Killian felt his arm stretch painfully behind him until she was raised to such a height that he was forced to relinquish his grip. Even then he tried to jump up and grasp her outstretched fingers but she was far out of reach by the time it had elevated to its full height.
“Papa!!!”
Hook poised himself to climb the statue but the row of black pawns in front of him all drew their blades at once, obstructing his only route. He squinted up at his terrified lass, his heart breaking, fear consuming him. He reluctantly shut his eyes and attempted to clear his mind so he could contemplate his next move. There was only one thing for it; hoping that his theory would hold true, he swiveled on his heel and darted towards the white pawns. They didn’t flinch. He wound his way passed them and mounted the great white horse nearest to the rook opposite Alice’s with difficulty. Strangely, it was the only one that didn’t have a knight sat astride it.
“Alice, hold on!” He shouted over the storm. A streak of hot silver split the blackening sky and torrents pummeled the roof as he spoke.
“I’m scared, Papa!”
“I know! I know, love. As am I! We’ll be alright!”
Killian clutched the stone horses’ rains and guided it onwards. It pawed at the ground and sprung to life, jolting him much quicker than he had anticipated. He was impelled to enclasp its neck as it galloped high over the pawn in front. It then skidded diagonally to another sqaure. It moved just like a real horse- granted a rather cloddish one. He urged it forward but when it didn’t oblige, it dawned on him that it could only move to a determined set of squares at a time. His heart thudded dangerously and he turned to face Alice.
“Listen, I think the only way to rid ourselves of this bloody chess board is for one of us to win the game! Do you understand?”
“Yes, I think I understand!” Alice replied, apprehensively.
They attempted to play like they would any other game. They applied their usual tactics and adopted new strategies when they deemed them necessary as the porcelain dolls cheered rapturously from the sidelines.
While it was necessary for Killian to steer the horse and bark directions at the other chessmen, Alice appeared to simply close her eyes, envisage where she wanted her players to move and they readily obeyed. Everything was going as smoothly as one could expect under the circumstances, though it was becoming more conspicuous that some of the pieces were capable of operating at their own volition; namely both their queens. Ignoring his command, the White Queen stalked angrily towards a black stone bishop. She raised her longsword, the bishop held out its crosier in submission and the Queen brought her blade down and cut into the air before striking it remorselessly. It crumbled, and father and daughter both turned to each other wide eyed. This was no conventional game of chess. Whatever complications arose, Killian could not allow any of his chessmen to take Alice’s rook. He would need to monitor the sentient White Queen very closely.
Not many pieces had been taken by the time Alice came close to settling the game. What she seemed oblivious to, however, was the White Queen’s gradual approach. The Queen had thus far made her own way to a square directly across from the last remaining black rook- Alice’s rook. In one vengeful stride, the Queen could attack against Killian’s will. He’d do his utmost to restrain her, but the towering statue would surely shove him backwards, immobilizing him before he could do anything to foil the onslaught. That was unless- unless he left his knight open to the Black Queen’s attack. Aye, if he blocked his own Queen’s path, the Black Queen would be free to displace his steed, giving Alice the optimal opportunity to checkmate his King.
His stone stallion tilted its head to buck excitedly before cantering to the square in front of the Queen opposite Alice. Alice turned her attention to the Black Queen and gasped in horror.
“Papa, no!! You’ll hurt yourself!!” She yelled in desperation.
“I’m sorry, Starfish. Your safety comes first,” Killian said, contrition and concern laced in his brittle voice. He couldn’t even bring himself to look her in the eye.
Sure enough, the Black Queen came for him. This was a sacrifice he’d unhesitantly make again and again no matter how horrible it felt to have terror’s glacial fingers trickle down his spine as the Queen drew her weapon. With one mighty overhead blow she lacerated his soaked sleeve, tearing through the flesh of his shoulder and maiming his trusty steed. Another brutal strike and the horse came crashing down. The pirate’s stomach lurched as it collapsed underneath him, hurtling him back-first into the marble floor. He landed at the board’s center with a grotesque crack, his head rebounded against the surface and the last thing he heard was Alice’s blood-curdling scream before blackness crept over and consumed him.
*****
Killian’s only thought before he drifted into unconsciousness was what would happen to Alice? What had he done? The child would be totally helpless without him. He’d broken his promise to stay with her as long as he could. He’d failed her.
Kilian was startled awake by the booming crack of thunder. The feeling surged back through his body and he bolted upright, panting and blinking his eyes open. His gaze fell on Alice. She looked inconsolable, standing there, bawling for her father, trapped high atop a scale-down tower. Fresh tears were spilling relentlessly from her bloodshot eyes. He’d never forgive himself for putting her through this. He scratched his temple with the point of his hook, hunched over in pain and, too winded to speak just yet, he gave her a cheeky thumb up to signal that he was okay. She shot him a relieved, toothy grin through her tears. Killian made to haul himself back to his feet but Alice’s rook had other ideas. It wobbled vigorously from side to side, revolving on its axis. It seemed to be hell-bent on dismounting her. In a flash, it propelled her into the air, she fell on her side with a heavy thud and slid to the center of the board, clasping her left arm to her chest and grimacing.
“Starfish? Are you hurt?” Killian asked urgently. He gently took her limp arm in his hand and anxiously inspected it for any sign of injury.
“I think it’s okay. I’ll be okay,” assured Alice, though her body language told a different story. When he spotted the deep gash across her arm, he shut his eyes tight and shook his head, inwardly chastising himself for lowering his guard. He felt nauseated by all the dreadful alternative scenarios pulsing through his mind. He as good as inflicted the wound himself. If he’d just exposed that deceitful witch for who she truly was, perhaps today wouldn’t have taken this bizarre turn.
“There’s a brave lass. Now, if these chess pieces are quite finished, I’ll go fetch something to cover that nasty wound.” Killian planted a comforting kiss on her crown and hopped to his feet.
“No, Papa! Look!!”
With haste, Killian shifted to look back at Alice. Her eyes darted frantically and, in her frightful state, she pointed furiously at something with her injured arm. His gaze followed her gesture and without a breath, he pulled them both to their feet.
“Oh, bloody hell!”
The surviving black chessmen had their swords and staffs at the ready and were aggressively taking deliberate strides towards father and daughter. Killian and Alice drew back in unison but were brought to an abrupt halt when their spines met the serrated, sharp points of the white chessmen’s weapons. Killian led Alice back to the midway point. He enveloped her in his arms and tried to cover her eyes as he looked on, completely devastated. He didn’t want her exposed to any more trauma; didn’t want her to experience an ounce of the sickening, throat constricting fear powerful enough to succeed in unnerving even him in that moment. No child should be subjected to such a daunting scene, not even a pirate’s daughter.
“It’s alright, love. It’s alright,” he said in an undertone, trying to convince himself as he cradled her head tenderly, his mind hastening to find some unobtainable solution.
The armed figures were closing in, encircling them now. As reluctant as he was to accept the truth, Killian was versed in combat enough to know there were only two courses he could take: he could surrender and chance getting killed regardless, leaving his daughter to fend for herself, and pray she prevails; or he could meet his end at the sword, fighting, giving her her best chance. That aside, who was he kidding, there was only ever one option.
Killian pressed an extended kiss to Alice’s forehead, swearing to himself that it wouldn’t be the last, and he grudgingly let her out of his tight hold. He ordered her to remain in close proximity, behind him at all times, facing the opposite way. He took a step forward and unsheathed his sabre before launching himself at one of the sole remaining black pawns. Being one of the smaller players, it stood around five feet tall. Every time he inflicted a hefty blow to its kettle helmet, his sword rebounded. Its distorted face combined with its unearthly manner of moving served only to distract and disturb. And it was damn well nearly succeeding. Hook parried its blow and expeditiously disarmed it. He grasped its sword by the hilt and called back to Alice, who was making inefficacious attempts at reasoning with the white chessmen. He tossed it to her and she caught its stone handle with ease.
The Pirate twirled his half betwixt his fingers, causing it to spin at his side. He positioned himself for attack and advanced towards another pawn. He flourished his sabre, gaining enough proficiency and momentum to efficiently deflect and intimidate.
The pawn swung for Kilian’s face and when the Pirate lurched away it followed, attempting to stab low towards his guts. Blade’s clashed with a metallic thunk and the pawn slashed wildly for the Pirate’s left arm, hoping to wound him before he could adjust his attack, but he shifted his guard so the blade caught only his hook.
Another thrust from a different pawn followed, this time aimed at the neck. Killian pushed against the crossed swords, forcing the intended stab aside, but was in no position to counter with his own. Another slash, and a white knight came from nowhere to slice a shallow cut in his cheek, forcing him to lurch off-balance and stagger away. He briefly wondered why their swords seemed to be a lot more durable than the chessmen themselves but alas, as long as he aimed true he’d make quick work of them yet.
Soon enough, rubble from the broken figures mounted at his and Alice’s feet. Killian unseated the black knights, they lunged at him and he swiveled back and forth to ward them off simultaneously, before flourishing his sabre to cut into one of them from behind. Rather than risk tangling his sword, Killian slashed at the Knight before him with his hook, pivoted, performed a feint and both brandished their weapons at each other, their paths intersecting, until Hook’s sabre cleaved into its leg, its upper half sliding off with a hideous groan.
To Hook’s astonishment, the dolls soon bustled to join the fray. In an unforeseen twist of events, most toys elected to align with himself and Alice, whilst others fought comically amongst themselves. Their new allies scaled the remaining chessmen and clung to their heads. They must have found a way into the cupboard he kept his sowing needles in, since that seemed to be every one of their weapons of choice- excluding Mr. Rabbit, who had been quite stationary until now. He instead saw it fit to set about beating a white pawn repeatedly with his wooden spoon.
Killian turned back frequently to make sure Alice was okay, occasionally disarming or impaling her opponents when they got uncomfortably close to repaying the favor. But he’d trained her well, if he did say so himself. She’d make quite the swordswoman one day.
A cacophonous clamor echoed through the tower and made Killian jump. He whipped his head around and was dumbfounded by the sight of the White Queen disintegrating upon impact of Alice’s sword.
“Well done, Alice!” He exclaimed.
“Watch out!” Shrieked Alice. Killian heeded her exhortation in time to find the last chess piece, the White Queen, with her longsword prodding at the hollow of his neck. He swallowed. And then, he almost inadvertently finished himself off when he heard Alice scream.
“Get away from Papa!!” She roared. He glimpsed the blur of a small figure charging past him, steadfast with her sword upraised. He involuntarily stepped back as with one fierce swing the Queen came tumbling down.
Lightening illuminated the heavens like a serpent of brilliant light sent to puncture the earth and the skies trembled with thunder’s cries. A formidable gust erupted through the tower’s entrance, throwing the dolls onto their backs and suddenly, both the toys and the remnants of the chessmen were shrouded by a burst of misty, dancing white light. Killian watched in awe as each doll and chess fragment hovered meters off the ground and systematically mended itself piece by piece. The restored chessmen steadily spiraled and shrunk from their 10 feet to objects minute enough to hold in one’s fist, magnificently transfiguring themselves into pieces indistinguishable from Alice’s non-sentient set. At last, it appeared Gothel had had enough games for one day. Another blinding, deadly streak slashed into the night, fracturing the skies. It brought him back to his senses- of course she wasn’t so easily appeased. From what he knew of her, this hellish ordeal was far from over.
The tower trembled again, this time much more violently. The floor glowed before luminous ripples transformed it back to its ordinary state and just as the dazzling whiteness engulfed their surroundings in a flash, father and daughter were wrenched apart as an immense fissure, large enough to fall through, opened and split the ground between them. The walls and windows were cracking now too, forming spectacular patterns in the glass and stone. The booming of thunder swelled to such a volume Killian was afraid his ears might bleed. He had to do something, lest they both be buried in piles of rubble. Alice’s breathing grew sharp and heavy. She abruptly brought her hands to her ears and scanned the room wildly.
“Please, help me!” She pleaded to no one in particular.
That was the final confirmation he needed. He understood, now with more clarity than ever before; everything that occurred today had been triggered by Alice’s emotions. The question of whether all this was incited by her magic or the tower’s enchantments would have to stand by for another day’s musings. He didn’t blame Alice in the slightest, of course. If this was incidentally her doing, she had no control over what was happening and right now she was frightened and confused and most importantly, she needed her father.
“Alice, can you hear me?!” He bellowed across the room, his throat aching from incessantly having to compete with the storm.
“Yes, Papa. I hear you!”
“Alright, I need you to try and calm down, love. I think your inquietude may be somehow overexciting this accursed tower’s bewitchments!”
“Papa, I can’t! Please! You have to make it stop!” Alice whimpered, pressing her hands more firmly to her ears as the walls crumbled around her.
“It’s alright, Love. You can do this, I know you can. Remember what I taught you about the ocean?” said Killian, this time adopting a more dulcifying tone as he toiled towards her.
“I can’t, Papa! I haven’t seen it!”
“You don’t need to see it to imagine it, Starfish! The sea’s in your blood as much as it’s in mine. Your imagination, Alice; it’s always been one of your greatest gifts. Trust me, Love, like I’m trusting you now. Wish for the ocean to bring itself to you.”
“Okay. I’ll try!” Said Alice tentatively. She scrunched her eyes closed and tried to imagine what the ocean might be like. She remembered her Papa’s paintings and the vials of sea water he’d acquired for her. She pictured a painting stretching for miles and miles and tried to visualize the waves swaying and sweeping over the sand. She thought of a soft breeze- one quite unlike the bracing gale enveloping her presently and she cast her mind back to her Papa’s soothing voice as he lulled her to sleep.
Alice’s eyes flashed open. The storm had at long last ceased, the gaping crack which separated her and her Papa was no more. Infact, there was no indication of there ever being a storm at all. The walls and floor had wholly mended themselves, as had the windows. Her dolls were lined up in their usual place, unblemished. Alice wouldn’t have believed there was any sort of devastation at all had it not been for the pristine chess set chaotically sprinkled about the ground. It was as if it had all just been another one of her deeply disconcerting night terrors.
Alice saw the proud smile etched across her Papa’s features and scampered towards him, but half way, she slipped over the black rook she’d been trapped atop mere minutes ago. She was thrown backwards, then quickly adopted a sitting position and she fell into a fit of giggles. And after sufficiently dispelling his worries about her being hurt, her father soon succumbed to her infectious laughter.
Killian bent to pick something up and then collapsed beside Alice, exhaustion finally settling in. What he’d recovered from the ground was none other than one of the shrunken chess pieces. He held it up and looked at it, smiling.
“This little rook caused us quite the stir, didn’t it?” Said Killian. Alice cheekily snatched it and studied it for a while.
“I like it! It’s my favorite piece now,” she declared.
“Aye?” Killian asked incredulously.
“Uh huh. It reminds me that even though I can’t leave the tower, I’m really glad you’re here with me.”
“Aye lass,” replied Killian, mirroring her smile. He stretched his hand out and seized another chessman.
“And I’ve grown quite fond of this knight, myself,” he confessed, revolving the white chess piece between his fingers. “It reminds me that I’m never going to end my quest for your freedom- not until it’s completed. And, it reminds me to remind you that I’m going to be there for you, as long as I’m needed,” said Killian, sincerity transparent in his loving expression. Then he pressed his index finger to the tip of her nose and stuck his tongue out, warranting another titter from Alice.
“I’ll always need you, Papa,” Alice said solemnly.
“Ah, you say that now! But when I’m all old and decrepit-,” Killian joshed half-heartedly.
“Then I’ll still need you.”
“Then I’ll always be here, Starfish.”
Killian struggled to his weary feet and assisted in helping Alice up. He embraced her warmly, and she squealed when he abruptly lifted her, laying her head against his shoulder. He spun them in circles until they both grew dizzy, then he propped her up onto the window’s ledge. Killian spent that night teaching her how to identify the constellations and telling stories; some innovative and others from some distant, far-off lands.