Burn The Ships (7/8)
THIS IS/WILL BE MATURE.
NOW WITH BEAUTIFUL COVER ART BY @snowbellewells
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | AO3 | 8
Summary: Pan and his pack of gruesome werewolves torment and put an end to individuals who find themselves unlucky enough to be a guest of Neverland. After being betrayed by her ex, Emma finds herself the game in this month’s hunt.
Captain Hook has never found the sport particularly alluring, preferring to spend his change far from Pan’s cruel crew. When he catches the scent of his mate, he is forced to join in the hunt to find her before the others can.
Saving her will mean betraying Pan and no one betrays Peter Pan and lives to tell about it.
@anmylica, @deckerstarblanche, @elfiola, @goforlaunchcee, @jonesfandomfanatic @jrob64, @kmomof4 , @pirateswhore, @stahlopp, @teamhook, @tiganasummertreee, @undercaffinatednightmare, @xarandomdreamx, @zaharadessert
Killian’s heartbeat pounded against his ribs — steady, stubborn proof that time had not stopped.
A strange light flared in Pan’s eyes. Fear?
Killian held his gaze.
A strangled sound escaped from Pan. All eyes on deck turned to see his wolf form give way to the boy beneath. Moments later, the man he refused to become stood before them all; rage and fear no more than a lingering flush in his sallow cheeks. His face twisted into something cruel and knowing.
Still, the black wolf refused to turn away. A warm brush against his shoulder; Emma had stepped forward. He didn’t understand the gesture. He only knew that something tight inside him loosened at the touch.
“The price for cheating is annihilation,” Pan stated coolly. The words were meant to sound commanding and dangerous. Instead, they tumbled clumsily onto the deck.
A broken sailcloth blew noisily in the wind.
Still, his wolves refused to answer Pan’s directive.
Killian felt a few probing nudges against his mind - Pan’s wolves. He didn’t let them in.
Slowly, wolves lowered themselves to the deck. Not submitting to Killian, but not a danger to his crew, Emma, or himself. Killian cocked his head at the strange form of Pan before him, considering the most appropriate way to dispatch of the creature that had poisoned this island for centuries.
Pan’s cold smile stayed in place. “In the end, we’re not so different, Captain.” He didn’t speak loud enough for the words to carry. Bae’s face flashed in Killian’s mind, but he kept his eyes trained on Pan.
Emma’s shoulder brushed against his. He pulled his attention from Pan to watch, mesmerised, as she moved. Her fur had become ethereal in the light of the heavens, and she approached the little, balding man with the gravitas of a proven queen.
Her wolf form towered over him. He shifted to his back foot, maybe to run or maybe just a reflex, and she pounced. A sickening, wet crunch reverberated in the air as his skull gave way under her paw.
It’s done. Her words were clear in his mind, along with pain and grief that echoed his own. Not for the body that lay before them, but for the road that had led them here.
§§§§ §§§§ §§§§
The morning sun did not lift the dense fog from the island. The birds did not sing lovely songs to herald a new era. The jungle still reached toward the sea, desperate to claim new victims.
The morning was sombre; the ship needed repairs, broken bones needed to be set, and tension was building in the vacuum Pan’s death had created. Emma could feel the question hanging over every interaction, as she travelled between makeshift pallets, patching injured wolves - What now?
She couldn’t provide an answer. So, she focused on applying salves, wrapping bandages, and issuing directions for preventing infection without any small talk.
She walked toward the next patient. Her heart stuttered at the sight of familiar ruffled brown hair sticking out in wild angles before her.
Neal’s arms wrapped around her. Her breath coming in shallow puffs. His reassurance that he knew what he was doing, Pan had told him they would both be okay so long as he said his lines perfectly. The tightness as his chest pressed further into her back, “I know my lines, Ems. We’re safe.” The moment panic had cooled into a pitiful sadness when she realised…
“Emma?” The Jolly Roger’s chef, and apparent expert healer, stood before her with bundles of torn, but cleaned, clothing in her hands. She shoved a stack at Emma and blew a stray hair out of her face. “We’ll have to cut the sails up next at this rate.”
She walked off.
Emma looked again at the man on the pallet before her. His hair was greying at second glance, his eyes a gentle green. She blew out a breath, set the bandages aside, and turned her attention to the patient before her.
§§§§ §§§§ §§§§
Killian’s head pounded.
It might have been that he’d been clenching his jaw too tightly all day, or perhaps from being too busy being the only functioning mind on the bloody ship and thus finding no time to eat. Either way, his patience was fraying with every painful thud in his skull.
The sun retired long before he started along the beach, where his and Pan’s pack spread out around several fires. The warm, comforting smell of a rich, meaty stew welcomed him almost as much as the barrels of ale dotting the sand. A meal and a pint would set him right.
A snarl rose from a nearby group. Killian’s attention narrowed on one of Pan’s, standing up, fists clenched. He appeared to be arguing with another of Pan’s pack. They hadn’t transformed yet, but the air was beginning to ripple with magic.
Killian sighed, “after this madness,” he promised himself. With every step, he tucked away signs of depletion, exhaustion and reached for anger. By the time he stomped up to the duo, it was nothing to grab them by the collar and shout effective, if fairly meaningless, threats at them to make them behave a bit longer. When they muttered their understanding, he released them firmly and turned on his heel to storm back to the cook fire with its stew and ale.
Rather than a clear path to his dinner, he was face-to-face with Felix. He braced. Of course, he would choose this bloody moment to pay him back for tossing him aside the night previous. A few bruised ribs couldn’t delay recompense.
“Alpha,” Felix said, bowing his head.
Killian felt the word wash over him. Respect hummed off Felix—and the wolves near enough to hear—and with it came power and warmth.
His wolf rose to meet it.
After decades of defying Pan just by existing differently in Neverland with his crew, he had the chance to command the island his way. No more boys turned feral under a tyrant’s hand. Safety. Belonging. The brotherhood of his crew imposed on the strays Pan collected. His order restoring what Pan’s games destroyed.
It would be his world to direct.
He nodded at Felix, acknowledging the title. “Yes.”
The word settled between them. Men shifted behind them, attentive and eager. The air seemed less cloying.
“But not yours,” he corrected.
He stepped past the wolf and continued toward his meal.
His skull throbbed as though it might split in two.
§§§§ §§§§ §§§§
“There you are,” Emma almost sang at a bottle she found tucked behind a book and some strange artefact. Killian had a habit of stashing prized bottles in his cabin. This particular bottle appeared to hold wine, which would suit her just fine tonight.
She was negotiating with the cork as Killian stepped into the tiny space. Smoke clung to him, covering the bond scent, yet he was no less desirable. He lifted an eyebrow as he watched her tear a piece of the brittle cork off with his pearl-handled corkscrew. “Could I be of assistance, Love?”
“Absolutely,” she said, throwing the bottle at him and turning to find two glasses since she would now be sharing the liberated bottle.
“I won this off Blackbeard the first time we met,” Killian said as he poured the rich, dark wine into their glasses. He lifted her glass to her and sipped from his own, “I always said I would save it for the night I stole back the Jewel of Arabia from that swindling swine.”
Emma sipped from her glass. The wine was fruity and easy to sip, and she let out a pleased hum. “This is a noteworthy occasion.”
“Far more so, I would argue.”
A light feeling wove its way from Emma’s heart to her mind. She wasn’t quite sure what to name it, but the future didn’t scare her or worry her. She didn’t feel like running. The boat rocked beneath her, but the world felt solid.
“We could save them, Killian.” Emma’s voice came out wistful, rather than certain.
“Not all of them need saving, Swan.”
Emma thought of the wolves she’d spent the day helping. They were all captives of Pan in one way or another. None of them seemed inherently cruel or irreparable. “They don’t know better. If we showed them a better way, we could heal them and the land.”
Killian watched the wine swirl in his glass. “Bae knew better.”
She didn’t need to read his eyes or touch the mate bond to know he was resolved in this decision.
She sipped, rather than responded. Pan had created a land that corrupted; she believed they could create a land that healed. But, she didn’t want to stay to prove a point. And the cost of healing the land would be far more than the cost of killing Pan.
She watched him carefully—a powerful man, awkwardly vulnerable, but trying.
And she knew she couldn’t bear the cost of healing this land.
“Okay. Then we leave.”She set her glass aside and crossed the small space between them. He barely had time to lift his gaze before she kissed him - firm, certain.
He shifted, fumbling to place his own glass somewhere safe, but she had already tangled her fingers in his shirt, pulling him closer. The glass slipped from his hand and shattered against the floor.
He wrapped his arms around her and deepened the kiss.
