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hookaroo · 8 months

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Laden of the Torn (14 of 25)

AO3 link Catch up on tumblr: One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Tagging @priscilla9993 @cocohook38 @killian-whump <3

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LONG CHAPTER WARNING haha sorry :)

***

Killian was trying his best to ignore his increasingly boisterous surroundings and catch just a few more moments of sleep. By the time Mandible and his cronies had finished with him the night before, they were the only ones still awake, and it had to have been well past midnight, if not approaching dawn. Couple that with the waves of pain that accompanied each movement, and Killian felt as if he’d barely slept at all, yet clearly, the rest of the cave’s inhabitants were well-refreshed and determined to make a noisy start to their day. He sighed and brought his arm closer to his eyes, trying to at least block out some of the light. He hadn’t felt this bad since… well, he was having difficulty recalling, actually. Probably the morning after his heart had first been cursed. That had been a miserable night, no question. The rain and the cold helping to spread the ache in his chest to every corner of his being, and Alice’s sobs still echoing in his very soul…

“Food! Food!” came a squeak from behind Killian, followed by an insistent prodding against his tender shoulder blade. He groaned. He would much rather sleep than bother with breakfast. With consciousness returning to focus, all of the abuse he’d suffered the day before was gradually sharpening into raw, throbbing pain everywhere at once. Favor had better not be expecting him to begin his travels in the next few days. He doubted he could make it much past the cave entrance at this point.

“Up, Torn stranger! Eat!”

A negligible weight landed on Killian’s hip, and he almost could have ignored it, if it weren’t for the smoldering laceration on his forearm not far away. Instinct drew the arm away from the monkey crawling on him, but that awakened some of the burning injuries on his back, and he had to admit defeat. If this creature had half the persistence that Alice did, it would not go away until he’d risen and eaten whatever he’d been given.

Killian dragged open weary eyelids and blinked until some of the cave came into focus. It was a blur of motion as the First Clan fed themselves and prepared for the day. The weight came off of Killian’s side, and the white fluff-ball from the day before landed next to a platter of what looked like assorted fruit. The little creature could not have carried that whole thing by itself, could it?

“Eat!” repeated Fluffy. Killian glanced upwards to where Blackbeard was tethered, and to his surprise, he found the other pirate up and eating already, uncharacteristically quiet. He really was taking his promise to heart.

With a wince and a deep breath, Killian pushed himself up, feeling the familiar burn of stiff, scabbed wounds chafing against leaf or hide bandages. He’d been provided a blanket at some point during the night, and he gingerly rearranged it over his shoulders to keep out the morning chill. White Fluff nudged the fruit platter and then raced away, apparently assured that Killian would eat now that he was sitting up and awake.

“Look who’s much the worse for wear,” remarked Blackbeard under his breath. He slurped pulp from his fingers and reached for another bit of green-tinted melon. Killian did not have much of an appetite, and the noisy eating habits of his fellow captive didn’t help in the slightest, but he knew he needed to rebuild his strength to have any hope of rescuing Puzzle. Moving slowly, he selected some kind of berry and tried to rouse himself. Just as quietly, Killian addressed Blackbeard without bothering to look at him.

“You may have staved off your imminent execution last night, mate, but we both know we’re entirely at the mercy of these monkeys. Let’s try and keep it civil, and if I can give them what they want, perhaps they’ll consider releasing us in the end.”

Blackbeard scraped the remnants of his breakfast up with one finger, seemingly unconcerned. “And what is it that they want, Hook? Besides our seasoned flesh roasted on a spit?”

Killian managed another careful mouthful before citrus juice made its way into a gouge in the back of his hand. Immediately, the whole area was ablaze. He cursed and tried to use the edge of the blanket to dab it clean. He couldn’t think of any harm in telling Blackbeard as much as he knew... “I’m to rescue a lost child, taken prisoner by a rival clan.”

Blackbeard scoffed. “You?”

“Aye, me. For some unfathomable reason, they don’t seem to trust you.”

Having licked his fingers clean and wiped his beard with his sleeve, Blackbeard leaned back against the cave wall, still smirking. “Their loss.”

Killian intended to leave it at that, knowing that Blackbeard wouldn’t truly have any objection to riding the coattails of his hard labor. For all his talk, the man was fundamentally lazy, and would take any opportunity to relax and be fed while everyone else around him did all the work. And that was better for the First Clan, as well. Should the roles have been reversed, and Blackbeard made it to the Less camp, he was just as likely to pull a double-cross as make any actual rescue attempt.

“What do you get out of it?” Blackbeard’s tone was casual, but Killian knew there was real suspicion behind the question.

“My freedom, I hope.”

“You could take that anyway, if they release you to travel into enemy territory.”

“They have your map, mate, and I’m in no fit state to attempt to navigate myself out of here without it.”

With a cruel chuckle, Blackbeard assented. “I will give you that one. But if that is all the reward you are demanding, then you are even more of a fool than I had thought.”

Killian ignored the insult. Blackbeard’s opinion of him was worth less than nothing, and though there wouldn’t be any specific harm in his rival knowing of his hopes for a cure, it somehow felt dangerous to let him in on the secret. As if it would be tainted somehow; as if it would only come true if Blackbeard kept his ignorance. So Killian stayed quiet and focused his effort on finishing his fruit. It was quite sweet, and at any other time he would have savored it, but with the way he was feeling at the moment, pleasure was beyond his capability.

He had not quite finished when he spotted Mandible approaching. Though the healer monkey had obviously been up just as late as Killian himself, he appeared much more alert. Killian credited that to his full blood volume and lack of pain with every slight movement.

Mandible stopped a couple of paces away and eyed Killian critically, then cast the same sharp gaze on the lounging Blackbeard. Killian’s counterpart gave no sign of recognition, but whether that was an act or simply due to the change in lighting compared to the night before, Killian couldn’t guess.

“Good morning, Laden,” said Mandible politely. “I hope you are not experiencing too much pain today.”

“I’ve had worse,” came the automatic reply. Killian set a half-eaten fruit slice down on the platter and shook juice off his fingers before it could trickle somewhere more painful. “Thank you for the fruit.”

“Have you eaten enough?”

Killian nodded. Mandible beckoned two helpers to come closer, and they dragged a lidded clay pot by the handles until it stood halfway between the two pirates.

“Then come with me. Tell your friend he may relieve himself into the basin, and cover it afterwards.”

With a tiny smile at Mandible’s need to specify the part about the lid--he himself wouldn’t put it past Blackbeard to be careless about sanitation--Killian glanced over his shoulder at the other pirate and caught his eye. Nodding at the vessel, he gave a terse,

“Chamber pot. Make sure to use the lid.”

Blackbeard rolled his eyes and nodded. “Ladies first.”

Mandible somehow understood the expression of ridicule, and he hopped forward to grab Killian’s sleeve. “No. I will examine you now. Follow me.”

Killian felt a sudden, unreasonable spike of anxiety; he hadn’t realized Mandible meant to do that today, and what if he didn’t find anything that could lead to a cure? Feigning calm, he stumbled to his feet, biting back a groan at the surge in pain. “Seems I’m needed elsewhere. Knock yourself out.”

Blackbeard glared at the lack of ropes around Killian’s wrists and ankles, though they would be completely unnecessary considering the ball and chain still hampering his every movement. Killian drew a breath, steeled himself for more pain, and slowly limped after Mandible’s retreating form.

***

The cave went back even farther than Killian had imagined. As he hobbled along, he tried to distract himself with an attempt to estimate the number of monkeys that made up the clan, but they never stayed still for very long, and it was nearly impossible to keep track of even the ones visible at any given moment. It was a fascinating sight, though, with signs of surprising intelligence everywhere he looked. Storage and cooking areas. Tiny hammocks, fire pits, plush cushions for seating. What might have been a schooling corner for young ones. Even a small pen containing miniature goats, which was so absurd that Killian was tempted to stop and stare as one species of animal tended another.

Mandible finally brought him to a well-lit alcove in the very back, where the sloping rock ceiling met a smoothed-out wall, complete with several nooks carved into the stone and topped with animal--goat?--skin mattresses. Considering this monkey’s role, it wasn’t a big stretch of the imagination to conclude that these were sick beds, tucked in the quietest and most protected part of the cave, with all of the tools of the trade nearby for quick access. Indeed, an impressive array of shelves were practically overflowing with jars, vials, pouches, and plant matter, so variable that Killian couldn’t begin to guess at any of their purposes. The area was lit with oil lanterns; presumably to prevent a build-up of smoke in the less-ventilated area of the cave.

A woven sheet stretched between two weighted poles acted as a bit of a privacy screen, though in its current configuration it was open on two ends and anyone could poke their heads around for a peek. Two or three assistants were busy beside a couple of pots steaming over a fire and a stone-topped counter that held herbs for chopping and grinding. Killian appeared to be the only patient at that time.

Mandible waved Killian past the busy healers and into the space behind the screen. There, the bed alcove was neatly made up with an inviting sheet and pillow, and a woolen blanket lay folded at the foot. A rough estimation judged it to be fitting for an average-sized human, which was somewhat surprising, but perhaps these monkeys got more “Torn” visitors than seemed likely.

Pointing at a familiar clay vessel, Mandible repeated the name Killian had used for Blackbeard, uncertain, as if it were a new phrase. “Chamber pot?”

“Aye. At least, that’s what we call it in the realm I hail from.”

Nodding, Mandible regained his usual confidence. “Please use it and then remove your garments. You may cover yourself with the blanket for warmth.”

“All of them?” Killian asked, feeling slightly foolish.

“Please.” Mandible did not even await a reply before ducking around the corner, leaving Killian alone but more exposed than was preferable. Sighing, he limped to the bed and lowered himself stiffly to a seated position. The complication of the ankle shackle, plus the usual hindrance of a hookless wrist, meant that the task of undressing might take twice as long as Mandible expected, and though Killian hadn’t ever been exactly prudish, a setting such as this lent itself only to awkwardness.

It was becoming an all-too common occurrence, stripping and allowing strangers to prod at and bleed him. And, of course, he would go through it all a hundred times if it meant he could be with Alice again… but so far, nothing had come of any of it, except for humiliation, sickness at the hands of a jaded apothecary, near-abuse by several healers, far too many spells by various witch-doctors--to the point that Killian had begun to wonder what kind of effects he might suffer in the future as a result of mix-and-match magic--and that wasn’t even mentioning the wizard encounter. That one was better left forgotten.

Still, Killian reflected as he pulled off his boots one by one, maybe this time would be different. The monkey would certainly be the strangest examiner of the bunch! And Mandible’s proven skill at healing had to bode well, didn’t it?

Killian managed to unlace his trousers easily enough, but bending down for the chamber pot was a different story altogether, and he was fairly certain, when all was said and done, that his back was bleeding again in several places. Well, came the wry thought, at least he was in the right area of the cave for that to happen.

He awkwardly relieved himself into the pot, covered it, and set it aside, guessing that it would be taken away for study. He still did not understand what value it had, but most of the practitioners he’d visited had also demanded such a sample.

That accomplished, Killian stepped out of one trouser leg and then set to work on the difficult process of sliding the other leg over the shackle, chain, and spherical weight attached to his ankle. The bottom cuff of the garment was much too narrow, and though it had been stretched by days of motion by the chain, Killian ended up tearing some of the threads in the seam in order to fully fit the ball through. He growled a soft curse at the impediment. Then he removed his socks, folded these and his trousers, and set them neatly near the pillow. He had just spread the blanket over his bare legs when one of Mandible’s assistants darted into the alcove to retrieve the chamber pot. Just as he’d suspected. Killian waited until he had left to begin unbuttoning his shirt.

It wasn’t that he was particularly ashamed of his body. True, he wasn’t in tip-top shape anymore. He had aged since Neverland, and although a decade of scaling Alice’s tower so frequently had kept him spry, that had obviously ended with the curse, and he was maybe slightly softer around the middle these days. But that hardly mattered; he wasn’t here to impress anyone. It just felt odd to be unclothed in front of too many strange monkeys, even when they themselves didn’t wear any clothes! It was the vulnerability of the matter, perhaps. And if many hundreds of years of dubious bodily autonomy didn’t grant him the right to be particularly covetous of it now, he didn’t know what would.

His stained, torn shirt joined the rest of the pile. He could hear the team of healers chatting in low tones on the other side of the screen, though he could not make out any words. He tried to picture what it must have been like, growing up here, in safety, with a large crowd of friends and siblings and not much to worry about beyond simple daily tasks. And the Less, of course. Which, he reflected, may pose more of a problem than upon first impression. Why else would they need such a well-stocked medicine supply and more than one healer?

Mandible must have been listening for the cessation of the rustling of movement to indicate when Killian was ready. After one moment more, he peeked around the corner, and Killian gave him an affirmatory nod. Mandible, in turn, glanced behind himself and made a gesture, then approached, lugging his animal-skin pouch in his wake. One of the assistants followed with a brightly glowing stone in hand; Killian had never seen the like, and he surmised it must be magical.

“Do you think you can lie comfortably on your back?”

Killian appreciated the question; the healer knew the constellation of fishhook injuries would be bothering him. But having lived through far worse, Killian thought he could tolerate it and nodded. “I might fall asleep, though, so you’ve been warned.”

As Killian struggled the heavy ball up onto the bed, gingerly pulled his legs up, and prepared to lie back, Mandible replied,

“There will be time for that later.”

Wincing, Killian drew some slow breaths to combat the increased pain as his back contacted the bed’s surface. He arranged the blanket loosely across his torso, figuring the healers would soon need access to his chest. Tucking his left arm beneath the wool, he draped his right over his abdomen, feeling the prickly tug of the Warrior Ant jaws holding the wound closed. He tried to relax as the initial fire in his back began to fade.

Both healers leapt up onto the bed next to Killian, and the one bearing the stone light scooted over to his other side. Mandible set his pouch near Killian’s head, saying,

“This is Aura. She will be providing light and assistance as needed.”

Killian flashed her a tight smile. “Hello, Aura.”

She nodded back, a serious expression on her silky flaxen face. Killian couldn’t help wishing she appeared a bit more relaxed; her somber attitude wasn’t helping his own anxiety at the moment. He drew another calming breath and turned his attention back to Mandible.

“Let me first check your arm,” said the healer as he began to gently unwrap the bandages around Killian’s forearm. Killian closed his eyes and imagined he was in his bunk on the Jolly Roger, with Mister Smee tending to a wound he’d received being an idiot pirate, his mind occupied with thoughts of Pan and the Dark One rather than his separation from his daughter. In some ways, that old angst was preferable to his current suffering, although, obviously, he in no way wished to go back to the days before he’d been given the most precious gift of his life…

With Aura providing well-aimed lighting, Mandible was quick to assure himself that the ant heads remained in place and no infection was obvious yet. He carefully applied some herbal ointment to the wound and wrapped it with fresh leaves and skins. He would save the fishhook injuries until later, but some of the other, deeper cuts should be washed and re-dressed soon. However, Mandible wanted to give himself as much time as possible to collect the required information about the curse on Killian’s heart, so that he could research and perhaps concoct a cure while the Torn ally was gone on his mission. So he set aside his bandages for the time being and moved his focus to Killian’s overall state of being.

Killian opened his eyes when he felt a small paw rest gently on his forehead, perhaps assessing for fever? Could the monkey really be so practiced that he knew what a normal human temperature felt like by touch alone?

“The healing is progressing as expected,” reported Mandible. “If you keep your wounds clean and dry, I would not anticipate complication. Now, if you are agreeable, I would like to collect two samples of blood, one from a peripheral site in the usual fashion, and one from the area just above your poisoned heart.”

Unsurprised, Killian nodded. “I thought you might. You have my consent for whatever you think is necessary to pursue a possible cure.”

“Very good. Aura, please retrieve the collection set; enlist Vision and Measure if you need assistance.”

Killian heard the assistant leap to the cave floor and bound away on the mission she’d been assigned. He closed his eyes and willed himself to relax. The unpleasantness would be over soon, and if it yielded any result, it would be more than worth it.

While they waited, Mandible pulled the blanket off Killian’s feet and lower legs, hissed at the chafing from the ankle shackle, and said,

“I was unaware of the extent of this injury. I already have Molten working on a method for removing your burden, and once I have completed my tests, I will dress any other wounds requiring attention.”

“Thank you,” Killian replied. The very act of having another being observe the irritated skin was driving the pain level higher, and he looked forward to the prospect of being freed. If only the weight on his soul could be so easily removed…

“This?” came a soft squeak from ground level, and Mandible repositioned the blanket over Killian’s feet.

“Yes, thank you, Aura. I will need some light now.”

A slight give in the padding beneath Killian told him Aura had joined her boss up on the bedside. A moment later, Mandible vaulted over Killian’s hip to face him.

The healer’s bloodletting equipment appeared to be fairly standard, although his blades were made of razor stone and not the typical tarnished metal. The healer settled himself at Killian's left side and curled his fluffy tail below his elbow as a tourniquet: another departure from the norm. He positioned a collection vessel beneath Killian's wrist, then swiftly cleaned and punctured the skin over the larger vein that would have drained the thumbward side of his hand. The stone was so sharp that it took a heartbeat or two for the pain to register as blood began dripping down into the vessel below. Keeping a watchful eye on the process, Mandible requested,

“Please tell me, in as much detail as you can, the story of how your heart came to be poisoned, and its exact effects on your physiology.”

Haltingly, Killian began to recount the tragic tale, barely managing to keep his emotions in check as he relived the hubris that had caused such grief, those first agonizing nights apart from his daughter, the helplessness and desperation that he still felt when he thought of his Alice, trapped and alone, with no human comfort to be had.

By this time, the blood in the bowl had reached the depth of at least half an average human finger. Mandible loosened his grip with his tail, placing a pawful of plant fibers over the sluggish crimson stream. Then he wrapped a hide bandage over the dressing. Without being bidden, Killian pressed his palm over the small cut, applying pressure while Mandible secured the first blood sample.

“It may be different if she were older, although I imagine the pain would be the same. But she’s still just a child, and it’s been months… I can’t do this much longer…”

Mandible heard the anguish in his voice and looked up. “I understand, Laden. We will try everything we can think of, you have my word.”

Tearfully, Killian met his gaze and nodded wordless thanks. Taking a position closer to Killian’s shoulder, Mandible reached into his pouch and drew out a funnel-shaped device.

“You described the curse pain as sharp, like knives in your chest, yes?”

“Aye.” The word came out constricted and bitter, sounding broken. “And the closer I get to her, the more intense it gets, and the further its range. Touching her… I’ve only managed it once, and I was thrown violently backwards. And it spreads, until every inch of me is engulfed…” His voice cracked. “I’ve told myself it’s not a weakness to avoid that pain, that it would kill me if I ignored it for too long, yet a part of me feels so selfish for keeping my distance.”

“It is out of your control, not a moral failing on your part. It sounds as though the curse physically moves you, regardless of your intentions.” Mandible clambered over to Killian’s other side to give himself better access to the poisoned heart. “Now, please continue to breathe normally and stop speaking while I listen.”

Killian obeyed as Mandible rested the wider end of the funnel against his chest, over his heart, bringing his miniature, tufted ear down to the smaller end to listen. The healer’s validation, well-intentioned as it was, could not overcome the irrational guilt Killian carried. Maybe he could not be in the tower with Alice, but he could theoretically stay at its base, guarding it, conversing with her from afar, providing her with the non-essentials that did not magically replenish themselves. He had done so for the first several weeks, in fact, while they both struggled to come to terms with their new reality. But like an insidious mold creeping along a damp baseboard, the curse had inexorably spread outward from its victim, slowly tightening the vise within Killian’s chest until he could no longer endure standing directly at the base of the tower. And he had backed off a bit, hoping that would be the extent of it, until day by day, he found himself measurably farther away, less able to hear Alice as she went about her confined life in the tower, struggling to communicate with her and ascertain her needs, or provide the hollow reassurance she was too smart to believe anyway.

Eventually, it had gotten so bad that just being within sight of the tower caused his rib cage to constrict, his lungs providing the bare minimum of oxygen, the pain radiating to every fingertip and toenail, and so he’d just… stopped. Stopped fighting, stopped making the attempt. He’d told himself it was so he could have the freedom to search for a cure, but deep in his heart, he admitted to himself it was a fear of the pain that he’d given in to. What kind of father would do that?

He would never forgive himself for that failure.

Mandible had spent so long listening to Killian’s chest that it seemed he must have fallen asleep using the funnel as a pillow. But just as Killian was debating whether to clear his throat or make some small movement to rouse him, the healer monkey straightened and asked,

“Could you kindly position yourself on your side so I may listen from the back?”

Killian stiffly rolled onto his right side and settled into as comfortable a position as he could manage, while both Mandible and Aura scampered around behind him. He felt the funnel device rest against his back, and again Mandible listened for a long while. This time, though, he instructed Killian to take deeper breaths at intervals, and hold it in between, while hopefully hearing whatever clues he needed to form a picture in his mind of Killian’s particular ailment.

When enough time had elapsed, Mandible set aside his listening device, saying,

“I do not detect anything out of the ordinary, at least nothing obvious. But perhaps the poison will be evident within the blood collected today. I am familiar with many of this realm’s plants and their effects. If one of their toxins is responsible, I am hopeful we will have the ability to craft an antidote.”

The next blood collection vessel appeared to have a rim shaped directly off the side and covering nearly half of the hole in its top. The healer lit a long twig from the flame of an oil lantern, passing it to Aura once it burned steadily. Killian couldn't imagine what its purpose might be, nor enjoyed any of the possibilities that came to mind, but he had given his permission for Mandible to collect whatever samples he needed, and it was for a good cause, after all. He stayed silent and watched the duo as they worked.

Mandible produced his blade, made two quick slashes on Killian's chest just above his heart, then had Aura hold the smoldering twig inside the collection cup for a handful of seconds. Then, moving quickly, he pivoted, ready to position the vessel over the slow trickle of blood welling from the cuts. Killian closed one eye in anticipation of a scalding touch, but all he felt was the continued sting from the double cuts Mandible had inflicted. The cup rested against his chest with its lip on the bottom edge so that, when Mandible eventually determined it was time to remove it, its contents would be contained.

Catching sight of Killian's skeptical eye, the healer explained,

“The flame creates a suction that helps to draw blood to the surface. If the curse is contained within, I am hopeful that this technique will help us in our study.”

“Clever,” Killian replied, impressed despite himself. He'd never seen such a process before, and that was saying something. He prayed that the unique techniques in use within this unlikely location portended breakthroughs to come. None of the other, more traditional practitioners he had visited had detected any trace of the poison within his bloodstream… but perhaps this time would be different.

***

Not long after Mandible had begun to dress the wound on Killian's chest, a new member of the First Clan appeared around the privacy screen. His fur was slate gray, he had a ruff of white, and the skin on his face was a striking collage of blue, red, and yellow.

“Molten,” greeted Mandible. “We are nearly ready for you.”

Killian recognized the name as the one who would be ridding him of his shackle, if all went according to plan. Though its connotation inspired caution, he did not appear to be carrying anything hot, just a trusty old file like those Killian had used himself on occasion.

Aura carefully retreated with his blood samples, and Molten took her place on the bed. He was tall enough that he did not have to leap up like the others, which hinted at the power that would be required to cut through the metal band around Killian's ankle. Finished applying the leaf bandages, Mandible positioned himself behind his patient and turned his attention to the inflamed fishhook punctures scattered at regular intervals all down his back.

Molten folded back the blanket concealing Killian's shackled ankle. Fabric brushed the raw skin, conjuring visions of the monkey's file slipping off of its intended track and adding its own mark to the scrapes already there. Killian almost sat up then, nervously saying,

“I've done this sort of thing before, mate; perhaps I should save you the trouble…”

Mandible rested a paw on his elbow. “Just relax now, Laden. Molten has a very steady paw.”

“I will take great care,” confirmed the larger animal as he slipped the edge of the blanket beneath the iron band to add a layer of protection between Killian's skin and his file. Killian lay back slowly. If Mandible trusted him…

As both monkeys proceeded with their respective tasks, Mandible said,

“I have promised to provide Favor with your answer to our proposed agreement by sunset. I realize that you may not feel physically capable of a rescue attempt at this time, but I also believe that you must understand his urgency. Would you like more time to consider?”

Sighing, Killian closed his eyes. Mandible was right about both statements. If they allowed him weeks of recovery time beforehand, that would be one thing, but he doubted Favor would have that amount of patience. “How far is it to the Less Clan territory?”

“Being forced to navigate the canyons as you would be, I would estimate half a day’s journey, assuming you do not take a wrong turn. We will provide you with a detailed map.”

That did not sound too bad. Theoretically, he could complete the mission within a single day. But it would do Alice no good if he were slain in the attempt. “And if I refuse? What happens then?”

Both monkeys paused for a moment. Quietly, Mandible replied,

“I could not guarantee your safety in that case. There are still those among us who believe that no Torn intruder should be allowed to leave the Stone Forest alive.”

So, certain death on one hand, possible death on the other. As he had suspected, but it was helpful to have it spelled out in no uncertain terms.

“Well, it appears I have no choice, doesn’t it?” Killian opened his eyes and turned his head to meet Mandible’s unflinching gaze. “You can tell Favor I will act as the First Clan champion. But the sooner I am required to depart, the smaller my chances of success.”

Mandible resumed his work, and Molten took that as his cue to continue as well. Killian could see the tension drain away from both monkeys’ movements.

“Understood, Laden. I will argue for Favor’s patience on your behalf. Once you have been freed and your wounds tended, you may remain here for uninterrupted rest, and we will provide food and medicine for your continued recovery.” Here he paused once more, but only briefly, adding, “You have the sincere thanks of the entire clan for your willingness to risk your safety for our princess.”

Killian made a rueful face. “Don’t thank me yet. Success has been a complete stranger for far too long now. This would be an extremely fortuitous time to get reacquainted.”

#ouat fanfiction #laden of the torn #wish hook #ouat blackbeard #knightrook angst #guilt #healing #blood samples #fire cupping #poisoned heart #wound care #making deals #i intentionally made the monkeys' speech similar to killian's #especially mandible's #because the translator potion uses Killian's own speech patterns to interpret what they are saying to him #if anyone was wondering :P

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