CS AU: Some Legends are Best Kept as Legends (2/?)
Summary: Years after ruthlessly humiliating the man known as Rumple von Stiltskin, Killian Jones faced him once again on the battlefield, though it was clear his foe was no longer an ordinary man. Before succumbing to the fatal injury the Dark One’s blade had inflicted, Killian managed to strike a blow of his own with the being’s own ripple-edged dagger. Now, nearly two hundred and fifty years later, Killian finds himself alive and back in his hometown. However, whatever awoke him from his cursed sleep had also raised the Dark One. With all of Storybrooke at risk, can Killian find a way to stop the Dark One once and for all? Perhaps so. With a little help from Deputy Swan and her boy.
A/N: Based on The Legend of Sleepy Hollow short story by Washington Irving, and the Sleepy Hollow Fox tv show.
I failed to mention my intentions as to a posting schedule for this fic when I dropped it earlier this month. I’m planning on updating every other week, trading off with my csmm fic, which drops next Sunday. So far, this is shaping up to be four parts total, but as always, I am at the mercy of the muse.
Thanks again to all of the mods and participants of the @cssns! Much love to @artistic-writer for her beta services (and for the amazing Killian manip in the art!), and to @kmomof4 for her cheerleading support.
Content Warnings for this chapter include character death.
Rated T / Available on ao3 and ff.net / buy me a coffee / Part One
Present Day, Storybrooke, Maine
Leaves crunched under Deputy Emma Swan’s boots, despite how careful she was trying to be while searching the perimeter of the old farmhouse. A call had come into the station about a disturbance. Hunters who’d been setting up their blind for the weekend said they’d spotted a suspicious figure, so now here she was, traipsing about the abandoned farm on an unseasonably cold night instead of manning the phone at the station, or patrolling the quiet streets of Storybrooke in a warm squad car.
One day she was going to beat her brother in rock, papers, scissors, forcing him to join Sheriff Humbert on pointless calls searching after figments of other peoples’ imaginations.
Graham had insisted they split up when they’d arrived. The farm was extensive, with a dilapidated house, a storm cellar, and old barn rotting away on the property that had once been the sight of a Revolutionary War battle. The Storybrooke Police Department had fielded a number of calls regarding the property over the years, enough so that some people in town considered the place haunted. Just another colorful tale for the tourists.
Emma had never put much stock into any of the legends and fables her town had become famous for; Revolutionary War ghosts, curses, the Dark One. It was all nonsense. Something she had to remind Henry of on an ongoing basis as his fascination for such legends had continued to grow over the years. Still, she couldn’t really fault his obsession. Mary Margaret assured her that most kids fell down the occasional rabbit hole, becoming something of an expert on subjects they immersed themselves in, and having a notorious legend like, the Dark One, originating from your hometown seemed like the kind of thing that would spark the imagination of any twelve year old boy.
The piles of books were getting a tad out of hand, though.
The snap of a twig jolted Emma back into her current reality. Even if this was a wild goose chase, Emma couldn’t afford to get distracted with thoughts of her son and his other-worldly interests. Especially when she heard Graham call out halt! to someone from the other side of the barn.
Emma jogged towards where she’d heard Graham’s command then broke into a full on sprint when his scream pierced the night.
“Graham!” she cried out, gun drawn and flashlight searching the area. “Graham! Where are you? Call out!”
Pained gurgles echoed in Emma’s ears when she turned the corner of the barn. Raising her gun, she trained it on the hooded figure standing in front of her boss and friend.
A twittering giggle that sent shivers up Emma’s spine spilled from the man as he flicked his wrist with a simpering remark. “You first, dearie.”
Emma’s heart began to hammer wildly in her chest when she realized she couldn’t move, but she didn’t have time to wonder how he’d managed to paralyze her, not when she’d just become aware of the man’s other hand impossibly embedded in Graham’s chest cavity. With a sharp tug, he removed it and Emma knew she’d never forget the scream that left Graham’s lips as something glowed a bright red in his attacker’s palm.
Incapable of moving, even if she weren’t frozen in place, Emma had no choice but to watch as the figure reached into his own chest and removed a hardened lump of something black and rotten. He then pressed the object he’d taken from Graham into his chest and smiled wickedly as the sheriff crumpled to the ground before him. Clenching his fist, the blackened item disintegrated in his hand, ash pouring to the ground and scattering over Graham’s still form before the man dusted off his fingers and started to approach her.
A rush of cold wind swept between them, halting the perpetrators steps. His head snapped up as the clouds parted, the moonlight revealing a scaled quality to his skin that had Emma’s stomach rolling in revulsion. His eyes fell shut as if he were straining to listen, but the only sound stirring in Emma’s ears was the thundering of her pulse.
The man flicked his wrist once again, and impossibly vanished in a swirl of dark smoke. It took Emma several erratic heartbeats to realize she’d been freed from her paralysis, shock and disbelief making it impossible for her to move until she remembered Graham and stumbled towards him. Her knees slammed into the cold, hard earth and a sob caught in the back of her throat when her eyes met Graham’s vacant stare. Even knowing it was too late, Emma reached for her walkie and called for back-up.
“Officer down,” she called out with a lamenting strain choking her voice. “I repeat, officer down. Need an ambulance and back-up, over.”
origamiaround
baratheonpilled
prguitarman
titsay
2087
