Light of All Lights - A Fairy Tale in Three Parts (2/3)
Notes: As always i want to first thank @caprelloidea for dealing with my tendency to be a needy mess, and offering truly amazing insight and suggestions. I love you a lot. Incredible banner by @thesschesthair
The response to this fic has blown me away and I love and appreciate every one of you for loving it as much as I do. This fandom truly is amazing.
Summary: When his ship crashes onto a secluded island after a storm Killian “Deckhand Hook” Jones finds himself the unlikely companion to the dark “goddess” who inhabits it. A fairy tale in three parts.
Rating: Explicit for very obvious reasons. Some mild violence. Angst.
The hardest part of the day was the dawn. The sun cresting the edge of the water, a small glow growing brighter on the horizon, the colors of a new morning filling the sky. She watched every daybreak, her own private penance, the darkness hissing and clawing the entire time. It loathed this indulgence. It dealt in death and pain, not the hope of a new day dawning. It was a quiet rebellion watching the sun rise, the world coming to life.
When she was younger, before the darkness, she had missed almost every one. Her family had teased her endlessly over her love of sleep, the difficulty that came from trying to wake her, her sneaking away for afternoon naps when she should be minding her lessons. When Aunt Aurora visited it was even worse, teasing jokes and spindles left by her breakfast plate. Her brother playing Prince Charming, tiny lips pressed to her forehead. Now she rarely slept, she didn’t need to, going years without it, the accompanying nightmares making it a distasteful thing, if she had any fear left in her it was reserved for sleep.
“Oh,” the whispered breath by her side startled her out of the memories. For such a clumsy man he was remarkably good at sneaking up on people. She supposed it was a consequence of trying to go unnoticed, a measure of protection. She had been alone for so long she’d forgotten to expect people, it was so rare to be sought for company alone, and even then she had never had anything to fear, not from anyone else at least. He had succeeded again in surprising her, but she was at least more prepared this time, her awareness of him stilling her arm before her mind caught up that he was there.
“Don’t you sleep?” She was a bit more harsh than she intended, gripping her arms to hug herself, keep herself contained. “I seem to remember people needing sleep.”
“I did a bit,” he rubbed the back of his head, not at all put out by her tone. She imagined he had heard worse, and the sorry feeling returned, a faint twisting in her chest.
“Habit I suppose,” he gestured out to the sunrise, looked out of the huge windows of the conservatory, the entire wall and roof nothing but clear glass filled with orange and pink light.
“Oh! I can…go?” He seemed to realize he might be intruding, his feet already backing away before she could answer, his head bowing in apology, but slowly, measured, as if he hoped she’d call him back.