Chapter Text
It was after midnight and dust made the air thick through the near endless tunnels and caverns of the cave. Moonlight graced the dank stone walls at this time of morning, thus the whole atmosphere chilled to silver. The soft chatter of men was the only disturbance in the bleak emptiness as they searched every crack and misplaced rock.
“I want that all sorted by sun-up.” Captain Killian Jones, or ‘Hook’, as evidenced by the metal hook replacing his left hand, called to two of his men carrying a large chest from his perch on a high cliff. At his voice, the rest of the crew stopped searching and scooped up various golden goblets, necklaces and loose coins in their arms to carry back to the ship. His deep blue eyes watched them file through the tunnel, thumb idly rubbing over the only treasure he’d grabbed for himself.
The dark wizard that had murdered his love and taken his hand resided on an island to which Hook sought to gain passage. Located in a cape, it could only be accessed via a narrow straight guarded by a dangerous siren. Rumour told she only granted passage when presented with a divine gift, otherwise she'd drown any man that sailed into her waters. Thus, they’d spent months scouring coastline after coastline, following and looting a wide arc of abandoned shrines around the Maritime Kingdoms, collecting pendants forged to honour the sea goddess’.
This was the last stop; this cavern, a shrine to an ancient sorceress being only a kilometre or two from the straight. He knew the pendants took the shape of animals that reflected the deities, and he certainly knew there were not two deities represented by squid. He glared at the shape in his hand; a replica of the sea witch Ursula’s, with cheaper metal. Someone had gotten here before him and stolen his chance at revenge. Jaw clenched, Hook dropped the necklace on the ground and crushed the brittle knock-off under his boot.
“Captain!” The voice of his first-mate echoed off the stone as the stumpy man clamoured up next to his captain. A ridiculous duck-feather cloak sprawled around his shoulders and his face red from the climb, “Check out what we found.”
Hook jumped up and rushed to his mate’s side, hope in his smile. It crashed to a frown when his mate presented him with with a glove of solid gold,
“Just in case you tire of the hook hand!” The icy glare from his captain evaporated his laugh and he chucked the glove over the cliff’s edge, “Uh...w-we couldn’t find the pendant, sir.”
“Then you’re wasting my time, Smee.” Hook bristled, shoving passed the smaller man. He stormed his way out of the tunnels, not bothering to wait for his first-mate, footsteps echoing around them. When they reached the ship, the crew all had the same nervous face as they gathered to listen to his orders.
“Turn the ship around.” He barked, not stopping to see the response. The gathered men parted and Hook shoved through, rushing down into the Captain’s Quarters. Hook sank into the comfort of his chair, rubbing his tired eyes with the heel of his palm. Black smudged onto his hand from the kohl he wore around his eyes, but he cared little.
His heart dropped to his stomach. The collection of necklaces hanging from wooden pegs on the nearest wall taunted him as the white gold caught the moonlight. At the end of the row, the empty peg seemed to shine the brightest. Hook stretched his hand up and snapped the peg off in anger, splinters narrowly missing his face. The dismembered piece of wood clattered on the desk and rolled until it caught on a leaf of parchment.
Hook lifted said parchment, eyes tearing and a lump forming in his throat. It was an old, scribbled portrait, from when his love, Milah, had tried to rub her artistic talent off on him. He’d tried to draw her, and after she’d gone back over his scribbles with her own. Ever the perfectionist.
He tried to smile but it wouldn’t come. It had been many years, but the images of Milah dying in his arms as the dark wizard crushed her enchanted heart were still as vivid. As was the pain when his left hand, desperately clutching a magic bean, had hit the deck and blood dripped from his wrist. He remembered the crooked, black goblin smile and those reptilian eyes laughing at him. The same eyes that plagued his nightmares.
Hook didn’t, sleep that night. He knew not finding the pendant would only cause his night terrors to return. Once the crew finished dividing the loot, they brought him the chest with his gold piled neatly in columns and an emerald-studded chalice filled with rum. Even the alcohol was hard to swallow. When he rose to deck at sun-up, he was a zombie. Fatigue settled in his bones and his usually sharp eyes dropped to his feet. Sunlight of a clear day would normally be enough to lift his spirit, but today it burned.
“Everything alright, Captain?” Smee asked when he reached the wheel. When Hook took over without a response, his first-mate gave a sigh and clapped him on the shoulder, “We’ve enough gold to pay for it when we find it. We’ll get it somehow, sir.”
The pirate captain glared down at the man, words involuntarily sharp, “Whoever took it first left that treasure there. They don’t want it.” That logic couldn’t be disputed. Without a word, his mate left him to sail alone, just as Hook preferred it.
He hadn’t believed the excuse until it had rolled off his tongue. He wouldn’t be able to barter for it. Thievery was obviously no problem for pirates, but similarly, pirates knew how to not be robbed. If someone looked to collect the necklaces as they had, they’d have the pendant safeguarded. Hook would have to fight for it.
A man unwilling to fight for what he wants deserves what he gets. He reminded himself.
The phrase repeated in his head until the sun was half to sunset after noon and the Jolly Roger sailed into the docking area of a small cape town. Familiar scents of dock market fish and bread and oils caused the quiet crew to stir, despite the contagious dreary demeanour of their captain. A breeze stirred up over the mountains that towered over the coast, and with it the promise of a warm meal and a warm woman.
Hook watched silently as his crew collected on the deck after the ship with safely docked, counting their coins and whispering with excitement. He cleared his throat and they jolted to attention; that earned the slightest smile.
“We wait for no man.” He began, descending the steps to walk among his men, “If you’ve not returned by cockcrow, you will be left behind, is that clear?”
“Aye!” The cheers rang out and they rushed to disembark into the town. He waited until he was the only one left, aside from the few crew members that stayed behind to care for the ship before trudging off.
The market was busy with poor folk, hunched over in their rags examining this piece of fruit or that wheel of cheese. He snagged a small loaf of soft bread on his hook as he passed one vendor, flicking a coin their way. The way the clerk scrambled to catch the gold suggested the town was impoverished, the sort where you could pay with a rooster and buy the entire stock. Someone holding one of the most valuable artefacts in the kingdoms wouldn't be here.
The sky was still brilliant blue when Hook pushed passed the thick throng where the docks connect to the main street, but the mountains were now blocking the sun. An old man on horseback was lighting lamps along the road, giving the town a soft, twilight tenor as the pirate sauntered up the gravel path. Drunken laughter spilled into the street from the tavern wedged between the two largest houses, and Hook pushed his way inside.
There were already men drinking their fill and boasting about their trials at work. Hook watched a wench sweet talking a couple of older men, enticing bumbling grins from under their bushy beards before sliding over to him,
“Can I get you anything, Captain?” Her hazel eyes flicked down to his hook and he shifted uncomfortably,
“Aye, rum. Bring the bottle.” He jammed two coins into her palm and she hurried behind the bar.
Hook gave a sigh and slunk to the back of the room, claiming a dusty table for himself and the cup and dice he produced from his coat. He drank in silence most of the night, accompanied only by the miserable thoughts that continued to prick the back of his mind. It wasn’t until midnight a few of the intoxicated noticed the shine of his coins in the torchlight and hobbled over to play, dragging along a few of the more adventurous wenches.
It wasn’t hard to win over the drunk at dice. Hook had been drinking, but his tolerance level still left his mind quick and experience left him with double his money each round. The only challenge he’d had was an ebony man, native to the mountains as told by his thick accent. He was more aware than the others and quiet, but his lazy wrist was his weakness. He was starting to enjoy himself and join in the raucous laughter.
Suddenly his dice were brushed aside by a hand, skin so fair it reflected the orange glow of torchlight. An overwhelming sense of anticipation crashed over him and Hook’s head shot up; it was another woman, dressed as a wench but he could tell not one herself. She was too beautiful; the most alluring woman he’d set his eyes upon for many years. Golden curls tumbled around her shoulders, lips the softest red he’d ever seen. And her eyes, Gods her eyes.
So sea-green he felt like he was drowning in them. Her gaze locked with his and he was spellbound, unable to speak or look down. Not even to the swan pendant of white gold that hung around her neck.
Through smirked lips, her voice came as a whisper, “What are you boys playing?”