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Gold had never brought Killian to his house.
It wasn’t a surprise. Why would he ever? Even with their truce during their adventures in Neverland that lasted all of eleven seconds, they were never on good enough terms to open up their homes to one another and that mutual hatred was no less powerful now as it was back then.
As a matter of fact, over the past few days, that hatred had at least doubled on Killian’s part.
So as he passed through the doorway that led to Gold’s mansion, Killian wondered why Gold would bring him into his house now. Their encounters, even with Killian as a captive, have mostly taken place in Gold’s shop and only took place outside of it when he either needed him somewhere for a specific purpose or wanted to make Killian suffer by throwing his most loved sights right in front of his face.
What could this mansion provide them with that his shop couldn’t?
Killian had asked, but Gold -- as obnoxiously quiet as he was -- refused to answer a single inquiry, leaving Killian in the dark as they made their way from room to room.
The house -- more of a mansion, really if Killian was being honest -- was immaculate in its design, with well maintained wood across the walls, floors, and bannisters. Items, paintings, and furniture that Killian could only assume were valuable lined the halls every which way he turned and all manner of modern conveniences -- many of which Killian recognized as he saw them, but some he could only tell qualified as inventions from this realm -- were readily at their disposal. If not for the owner of the house, Killian may have felt inclined to compliment it.
But the fact of the matter was that the person who owned this house currently held his heart and Killian was in no mood to give Gold even the smallest of praises this evening for that reason alone.
What stuck out even more than the house’s beauty though was its present state of desolation. Save for the two of them, the mansion was deserted. Belle -- according to Gold, at least -- had once more volunteered her babysitting services to Snow and David while they helped themselves to another night to themselves. Killian was torn between being grateful that she wouldn’t bear witness to whatever sick task his crocodile put him up to tonight and hopeful that she might have left something behind, walked in, and stopped her husband, with a laundry list of questions following thereafter and a demand for his heart to be released.
But, in truth, while present, he had little hope for that.
In fact, ever since the not-even-close-to-reformed Mr. Gold took his heart right from his beating chest, Killian had started to have little hope for anything.
As Killian sulked behind Gold, something apart from the house Gold led him through made itself quite apparent to him
That was his empty stomach.
Killian regretted not eating sooner in the day. His stomach had spent the better part of ten minutes now inaudibly whining for sustenance that he could not provide it with. He’d pleaded to any God he could think of that those silent complaints would stay that way, if only to prevent inadvertently giving Gold any more ideas for how to torture him -- as if he hadn’t already been through enough…
Their walk through the house had been a quiet one, though not for lack of trying on Killian’s part. He had tried to question his crocodile’s motivation for this impromptu trip, but all attempts resulted in silence at best and squeezes that all but subdued him into silence at worst.
After passing through a few rooms, Gold stopped. The room they landed in was similar in aesthetic to the rooms Killian had seen before, but with a centerpiece comprised of a long table in the center of it with matching chairs at its sides, clearly a dining room.
“This will be far enough,” Gold said, taking a seat at the head of the dining room’s table with only his words acting as any sort of acknowledgement of Killian’s presence.
Killian -- while not desperate for Gold’s attention by ANY means -- wasn’t too happy about that.
“So what is it you’re making me do now?” Killian spat. “Are you at last ready to show your hand?”
Gold shook his head.
He must’ve felt so coy.
It sickened Killian to his core.
“No. Don’t you see, Hook?” Gold rhetorically asked, all the while tapping Killian’s heart with his index finger in a way that caused not writhing pain, but severe underlying discomfort. “Unlike you,” he continued, “I know better than to show my whole hand. I reveal one card at a time until my enemy bluffs their way into emptying their hand. It makes for a far sweeter victory than just haphazardly keeping your heart on your sleeve. Just look where we both ended up.”
Killian smirked, ready as always with a retort.
“Aye,” he said. “A miserable coward who can’t get by without his precious powers and a man who actually strived to be better, but just barely missed the mark. One day, they’ll see you for who you really are. I’ll be missed and you’ll be reviled in the history books. Now just tell me what I’m doing in your bloody abode,” he growled.
Gold, completely ignoring Killian -- something Killian had grown frustratingly used to -- looked to his wrist where a gold watch sat. “Look at the time! It’s well past eight and I haven’t eaten my evening meal.”
And just like before, Killian instantly had a retort at the ready.
“Why not keep it up?” he snarled. “Your bones are far better company than you are.”
And for that retort, he received a merciless squeeze to his heart. It was just as bad as any of the others he’d received since his heart fell into the absolute worst of hands, but Killian wasn’t brought to his knees by it.
Yes, unfortunately for him, through sheer exposure at Gold’s cruel and vindictive judgments, Killian had become somewhat accustomed to the feeling of the lighter squeezes of his heart. It wasn’t enough to ward off the unrelenting pain by any stretch, but Killian could stand through some of them now. But oh, did his legs hate him for it.
Gold clicked his tongue, still not turning to look at Killian. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. And here I thought you were learning to better hold that tongue of yours. Looks like I’ll have to work a bit harder to make you realize the value of silence, now won’t I?”
“You’ll have to do better than a few squeezes to make me do that. Telling you off is the one joy I have and I’m not about to give it up so soon.”
A smirk met his words. “Well, we’ll see about that,” Gold challenged. “In the meantime, I think I’ll have something to eat.”
Killian glowered as he tried to parse out what Gold’s plan was. He hadn’t moved from his chair, despite his clear intent to eat.
“And what will you make me do in the meantime?” he asked, impatience reluctantly taking over. “Am I to just sit back while you cook?”
Gold’s smirk widened, still only visible to Killian through one side of his crocodile’s face. “No,” Gold dismissed. “I was thinking of a more...active role you could play in my meal’s preparation.”
For the first time since he got here, no retort left Killian’s mouth in the face of Gold’s words, and that seemed to be all the invitation Gold needed to proceed with the latest of his many, many demands.
“Make me dinner.”
The command was as simple as simple could be, and yet, it utterly bewildered Killian.
Killian -- despite even the compulsion of his stolen heart’s commands -- paused.
Apparently there was something to be said for the power of confusion.
“What?”
“I said make me dinner.”
Without so much as a pinch of effort on his part, Killian started to move towards the kitchen. However, suddenly, with no warning, he was given another order.
“Stop,” Gold demanded sharply.
And like the stooge his enslaved heart forced him to be, Killian stopped in place the instant the command finished.
“What?!” Killian all but shouted. “I’m going to make you your bloody dinner! What else do you want?”
“I WANT to make sure you understand my request completely first,” Gold said, finally not only turning to look at Killian, but approaching him like a vulture approached its prey.
“Not exactly a request when you’re forced to obey,” Killian shot back. What little of his heart that he could feel quickened as his foe drew ever closer to him.
Gold smirked. “Six to one, half a dozen to the other. That’s a food pun, in case you hadn’t picked up on it. But back to what I was saying, this REQUEST,” Gold continued, placing special emphasis on the word ‘request’ and practically smiling at Killian’s glare, “has some provisos.” He then frowned and the rest of his face followed, transforming his expression into one harder than the stones of the Echo Cave. “You are not to poison my food. You are not to SPIT in my food. You are not to serve me anything that will cause me pain as I eat it. You are to make a dish to the very best of your abilities, AND you’re not to help yourself to so much as a morsel or crumb until I say otherwise.” Suddenly, his smirk returned -- as crooked as his mind and as foul as his soul. “I’d tell you the consequences of failing to live up to these rules, but thanks to this lovely keepsake, I don’t have to.”
As if just to prove a point, Gold gave Killian’s heart a terrible squeeze, one that was strong enough to actually threaten to throw Killian off of his balance. It was only by sheer luck that it didn’t.
It sickened Killian to admit it, but he was grateful for that. So much of his dignity had already been sacrificed under the mantle of Gold’s whims. Any instance he could take where his pride could be spared was one he would gladly enjoy, no matter how pathetic it was of him to do so.
“Now go,” Gold ordered.
And into the kitchen Killian went.
The first curse had truly spoiled Gold rotten. His kitchen was large and positively stocked to the brim with the freshest food and the most diverse array of spices Killian could ever imagine. A younger version of himself would’ve felt too overpowered to even speak at the mere sight of such a place so full of food while he and his brother lived ration to ration and spent far too many a night with empty bellies singing them to sleep in place of lullabies. Perhaps, that child would have thought this home to belong to a mighty king.
But no -- this kitchen belonged not to a king, but to a pampered overpowered jester, one Killian was now the very much unwitting subject of.
After taking a quick look through the fridge and pantries to see what he had at his disposal for this most embarrassing of tasks, Killian got to work.
There was a fair amount of seafood in the fridge, the cod looking the best of them, so Killian decided to go with that. He was sure Gold would comment on his inclination to prepare fish of all things -- likely something about his life at sea, knowing him as Killian did -- but he was compelled by Gold’s order to cook nothing less than his best, and the delicacies of the sea just so happened to be the one type of food that he had more than his fair share of expertise in.
Besides, much to what he desired out of his limited freedoms, cod would give him a means to make comebacks or quips.
If there was one thing this atrocity couldn’t take from him so easily, it was his mouth, and he’d use it as liberally as he wished with the time he had left.
But for now, some of that time was not to be used for making comebacks, but for cooking a dish for his captor.
Ovens weren’t something he was comfortable with just yet, so instead, Killian opted to use the stove. After applying some spices to his cod, he lined a medium sized pan with olive oil and put up the heat on the stove. After a few minutes, the pan was ready for his fish to go on there. Killian was able to ascertain around how long he’d need to wait between flips and got to work on a simple lemony sauce that could go on top it.
Once the sauce was prepared and his fish was cooking in the nearby vicinity, Killian started to consider a side dish. Gold wouldn’t be content with just the fish alone and while he’d be happy to give Gold as little as possible to enjoy, his heart pushed him to do more, making the meaning behind Gold’s words perfectly clear.
Atop Gold’s kitchen counter was a bounty of fresh vegetables, with each one being more plump than the last. It made Killian’s stomach groan about the food it was bereft of in a way that nearly made Killian whine.
Gold was a real bastard with his commands.
That was putting it lightly.
Killian rubbed his belly reassuringly just before he got back to work, promising it a meal of its own once this was finished.
As he looked at the vegetables, he got an idea. He’d seen Mary Margaret enjoy these -- as she put them -- ‘salads,’ and frankly, it was easier than anything else he could think of to make. Not only would that lessen the time Killian was forced to spend in Gold’s vicinity, but it would also satiate his captor quicker. Heaven knew Gold wouldn’t be patient waiting for his meal and would gladly take any opportunity to punish him for his sluggardly work.
The only way to make his wrath less severe was to move fast.
Still, it wasn’t like hastening the job would completely remove pain from the equation. Not one to ever forget anything apparently, Gold gave Killian’s heart squeezes at seemingly random times as he cooked. Not only were said squeezes a living nightmare to endure on their own, but they proved to be dangerous too when given at the right time. One of them happened just as Killian was lighting the stove, burning his hand -- as if the damage to the first one wasn’t bad enough. Another nearly caused a cut that would bloody his fingers as red as Regina’s apples, done as he was chopping up carrots for the salad.
Despite the unpredictability of the squeezes themselves, their existence wasn’t surprising.
After all, Gold was a bastard like that.
Killian toiled, forcefully careful via his orders as to give Gold -- as he demanded -- “the very best of his abilities,” and after twenty minutes, he was ready to present his crocodile with just that.
Gold was waiting in the dining room at the head of the table, just as he was before -- facing away from Killian. A fork stood up in his right hand and in his left, as always, was his heart.
Oh, what Killian would give to exchange the heavy plate in his hand for that precious organ and at last return it to its rightful place...
But that wasn’t about to happen any time soon, so reluctantly, Killian placed the foods of his labor in front of Gold for his assessment.
Gold’s tongue peaked a touch over the horizon of his lip’s parting point upon smelling the food and downright smirked as Killian put the dish in front of him.
Well, at least that was a good sign that he didn’t hate it.
He then looked to Killian.
“Fish?” he asked, a chuckle bubbling under his words. “Let it never be said that you can’t be predictable, pirate.”
“If that reaction’s anything to go by, the same can be said for you,” Killian shot back. “You said to make you my best, and this is my best. Eat it or don’t. I don’t care.” With a tight glare, Killian began to walk towards the entrance, momentarily entertaining the hope that he would actually be able to walk out the door and exit this house-shaped gilded cage.
He should’ve known by now not to be so foolish.
An intense fissure of pain jolted through Killian’s body like electricity through the town’s poles.
“Did I say you could go?” Gold asked, his face once more hard as he reprimanded Killian. “No, I didn’t.” But as quickly as his features changed one way, it changed back, with Gold now holding the calmest of expressions. “And yes,” he continued, “I WILL partake in your meal, and I’ll give you the privilege of letting you watch me as I do. After all, what more could a chef want than to gaze upon those that enjoy their food?”
“This chef wants to go home,” Killian said, playing along with his crocodile’s sick metaphor.
For that comeback, his heart -- wedged between Gold’s hand and the dining room table -- received a swift punch that made Killian have to take an awkward step forward just to remain vertical.
“Well, too bad for you. Now, go stand over there,” Gold said, pointing to his left.
Killian moved towards the wall on the left side of the room. However just as he was about to lean on the wall, he felt a tight pulse all throughout his body.
“WHAT?” Killian shouted, with far too much panic in his voice for his liking.
“I didn’t say lean on the wall. I said STAND over THERE.”
Suddenly, right in front of Killian were two pieces of white tape that formed an ‘X.’
“There,” Gold said, half gritting his words, but clearly pleased by his handiwork. “Instructions easy enough for even a pirate to understand.”
“You can forgive me for wanting some comfort,” Killian said without missing a beat, walking over the spot Gold directed him towards.
“Actually, no,” Gold said, now casually tapping the surface of Killian’s heart, “I can’t. You’re not here for your comfort. You’re here to ensure MINE.” At that moment, Gold eyes bulged, as if he thought of something, something Killian knew would be terrible for him. “And as a matter of fact,” he continued, “You just gave me the best idea for how to do so.”
From below his feet, Killian felt the two pieces of tape try to move from under his shoe. When they were finally free, they moved so they were right beside Gold.
“Yes, what meal could be complete without a waiter?”
Suddenly, Killian found himself engulfed in a poof of magic and when it was dissolved, he instantly realized he was wearing new clothes. Atop a black shirt and pair of pants sat a clean white apron-like piece of garb and a napkin rested atop the center of Killian’s right arm.
He knew that these were what waiters wore in this realm.
Gold was really out to taking the piss out of him tonight, and as loathe as Killian was to admit it, he wasn’t doing too bad a job at it.
Not only did the clothes remove even more of Killian’s already quickly diminishing sense of dignity, but they were uncomfortably tight too. It was clearly intentional. Even if Gold knew nothing about his size, his past self had given him properly fitted clothes back during his and Emma’s journey through time.
Gods, he wasn’t going to have another adventure with Emma…
And the very man that took those chances away from him was now treating him as little more than a servant.
Killian grunted at the injustice as he walked over to his new spot.
To say he was less than thrilled at spending the duration of what was all but guaranteed to be a slow meal that would grate on his nerves like parmesan cheese waiting on Gold hand and foot was an understanding beyond anything that one could ever imagine.
Still, for as terrible as this latest bout of torture was, he’d had worse in his life, and considering just what it was that Gold was holding, he honestly expected that worseness to show itself.
Gold clicked his tongue as he looked at the dish Killian prepared.
He took out a fork and plunged it into the salmon, pulling it out with a three-pronged bit of fish. Gently, he placed it in his mouth and started chewing.
Immediately, Gold released an enticed hum.
“Very good,” he said, as calmly as Killian imagined Archie was on duty. “My compliments to the chef.”
“Delighted you like it,” Killian muttered, his tone as angry as the heart currently absent from his chest was.
If only he had control of it -- then, he’d prick something of his own with a pronged piece of hardware, but it wouldn’t be a fork to a fish.
No, it would be his hook to a crocodile’s neck.
But the fact remained that he DIDN’T have control of it and, as per Gold’s command -- he was stuck standing there, unable to do anything but watch as Gold ate his food.
“Ahem,” Gold coughed. “Excuse me,” he said, feigning kindness. “I happened to get some of this lemon sauce on my cheek.”
“So what do you want ME to do about it?” Killian grumbled. Then he looked down at what was on his right arm.
He then knew exactly what Gold wanted him to do.
“Why, remove the substance, of course.”
Killian’s arm moved before the command could even resonate in his brain.
The napkin slid from his arm to his hand and gently rubbed the lemon sauce off of Gold’s marred cheek.
Right there and then, as Gold resumed digging into his supper, Killian realized that because of his own inadvertent slip of the tongue, he’d be doing that a lot for the remainder of his time here.
Killian hadn’t ever heard Gold eat before, but as he was forced to endure his crocodile feast upon the spoils of his cooking, he discovered that his foe truly did live up to his nickname.
Every bite was accompanied by a loud smacking of his tongue and lips. Gold moaned his delight through his mouthfuls of food. Slow chews that had the volume of claps of thunder gave way to Killian getting a peep show of each morself to enter his crocodile’s mouth.
He doubted that it was genuine. Even with all the hatred in his heart, Killian could admit that Gold wasn’t the type to have poor table manners, nor abandon basic etiquette so recklessly.
No, only HE would be treated to such frivolity, and Killian was as grateful for it as he would be for a bucket full of sand flung into his face.
About a quarter of the way through his meal, Gold turned to Killian.
“Hungry?” he asked.
Killian had to give it up to his stomach. It had been a real trooper through all of this, allowing the next of his comebacks to land just well as he wanted them to.
“No thanks,” he retorted. “I’ll let you fatten yourself up all on your own.”
Gold looked at Killian’s heart, as if deciding whether or not it was worth squeezing. However, with a shrug, he just let it and the hand holding it sit upon his lap as it did before without so much as a single action taken to cause him harm as he continued his dinner.
That...was weird...
He couldn’t help wondering what Gold was up to now, but he found himself able to hazard a guess.
Killian inwardly snorted. Hunger was nothing he wasn’t used to. Whether through shortages of food on The Jolly Roger or the shoddy excuses for rations aboard Captain Long John Silver’s ship, Killian knew well the feeling of an empty belly.
His life had been quite hellish since Gold first took his heart, but for the first time, Gold was delivering to him a punishment that he knew he could withstand while maintaining some sense of honor.
As Gold continued to feast though — with all the quickness of a slug with salt on its head — Killian could smell his food and quite strongly at that. Somehow, its scent had felt more...pungent well over than ten minutes after he presented it to Gold than it was even when it was cooking upon the stove right in front of his face.
Was he just hallucinating?
No, he wasn’t THAT hungry.
But as the minutes passed, Killian started to wonder how true that was.
He knew how stomachs worked. Despite what Gold claimed, he wasn’t daft. He was hungry and it only made sense for a stomach to release its wants more and more with every minute it was denied sustenance.
However, Killian was sure that whatever it was that was going on in his insides was anything but normal. It wasn’t so much the gradual rise in hunger that he would expect while trapped in such a situation, but closer to a racing decay of whatever remained in his insides.
Killian looked to Gold, who was only half of the way through his meal. With one of his hands holding Killian’s heart and the other digging into his supper with the help of a fork, it didn’t seem like magic had a hand in his stomach’s present tantrum.
If it wasn’t Gold, then what was wrong with him?
Gold hadn’t spared Killian so much as a glance since he started eating, but he housed a grin on his face, one that only grew crueler as Killian’s stomach grew emptier and emptier.
Killian examined his crocodile closer, though his mind -- tainted by hunger as it was -- would just barely allow it.
He noticed something this time.
The fork in Gold’s hand, while delivering his food to his face, was twirling in the most unusual of patterns as it grabbed and served Killian’s fillet.
So he WAS using magic.
“What are you doing to me?” Killian growled, though the fact that it happened after yet another cleaning of his crocodile’s face likely took away from the menacing angle he sought to create through his tone.
“Oh, nothing,” Gold dismissed. “Just…”
“OUT WITH IT!” Killian roared.
“Touchy, touchy, touchy.” With every utterance of the word, Gold gave Killian’s heart yet another uncomfortable tap, each harder than the last. “I’m simply reminding you of the importance of resolving the calls of that healthy appetite of yours. Your body, after all is like a battery —do you know what a battery is?”
In truth, Killian didn’t — not fully, in any event, but he understood the metaphor Gold was so clearly throwing in his face well enough to follow.
As mentioned before, he wasn’t daft.
But he WAS hungry.
“Well, no matter,” Gold proceeded. “What matters is that a battery needs to be recharged to work just like we need food to recharge ourselves to function in this beautiful, breathtaking, life-filled world of ours.”
The bragging was impossible to ignore, and somehow made Killian’s situation even more hellish than it already was.
“If you find filling one’s stomach to be of such importance, then why are you emptying mine?”
Gold’s response was so cruelly simple that Killian almost couldn’t believe that something so blunt could ever leave him.
“Because it’s fun to see you squirm.”
Killian was certain he wasn’t squirming. His posture was decent, all things considered.
He was also certain that if things kept going the way they were, that wouldn’t last long.
It was nothing short of a miracle that his knees managed not to cave into it all.
Minutes passed. The pain inside Killian’s stomach only grew worse, getting to a point where in between Killian’s swipes of Gold’s sauce-dabbed face with his napkin, he had to hold his stomach with his hand and hook, nursing his aching organ as if it were a child he was to give birth to any minute now.
But unlike birthing a child, the only reward for this pain would be more of it, until his crocodile was pleased with his handwork and got bored of his unwitting toy.
Between Gold and his father, there was no state worse to be in than at the mercy of that particular family, and unfortunately for him, that’s exactly where he was now.
And that state was, as Gold had anticipated, helplessly squirming.
Killian felt his stomach collapse in on itself like a deflating balloon. Pangs of hunger were as relentless as tidal waves during a storm and ten times as painful.
It didn’t take long before Killian was on his knees. When he looked up, Gold stood atop him.
“Hungry?” he repeated.
Not a single comment left Killian’s lips, as if all of his remaining strength was just focused on keeping his stomach from imploding.
Gold grinned.
“Look who’s learning now,” he gloated. “Let’s see if it sticks this time.” Gold sat back down and slowly cleaned the rest of his plate, scooping up its contents like a fish did with water. By the time he was done, Killian was certain not even one drop of the sauce he prepared remained.
Killian groaned. He shouldn’t be thinking about sauce -- not when his body wanted him to do nothing more than drown in a pool of it.
But instead, he was almost unrealistically parched, likely more of Gold’s magic at work.
He felt his salivary glands dry up like a dessert, unable to even give him spit to swallow.
“Well, it appears you can teach an old puppet new tricks after all,” Gold boasted, standing once more like a meerkat over a bug. “You’re so quiet and demure tonight. I’ve trained you well.” over Killian.
“Not well enough.” Killian was pretty sure that’s what came out of his mouth, but the look Gold gave him though suggested that whatever he said came out in the most ridiculous manner possible. Killian’s cheek instinctually reddened through a combination of rage and shame.
To be fair though, between his hunger and his thirst, his ears were acting up trying to pick up on just about anything.
But Killian didn’t need the full extent of his hearing to understand perfectly what the next words Gold uttered were.
“Tell you what: I’ll give you food if you do one little thing for me.”
By his poor, tired body’s command, now practically committing mutiny against his brain, Killian listened intently, frustratingly ready to do anything Gold asked him to for a release from this spell that tortured it so.
Gold could clearly tell he was winning this battle, and that fact made what he said all that much worse.
“Beg for it.”
With every fibre of his being, Killian aimed to refuse.
His instinct was to refuse -- to say ‘never’ to his crocodile and suffer nobly until Gold was forced to release him one way or another.
But the problem was that that single word -- despite every impulse from here to Neverland and beyond telling him to do so -- wouldn’t leave his barren mouth.
Instead, all that left his far-too-weak lips was a low, airy, pathetic wince that echoed through the ears of both of the room’s occupants like a shanty through a tavern.
The starvation Gold was putting him through not only rivaled the worst of his childhood, but exceeded any expectations of pain Killian could ever afford the emotion. Hot tears that were only just barely kept at bay by Killian’s ever decaying resolve pinched his cheeks. His knees threatened to cave and there was no telling just how much worse things could get if that happened. After all, it wasn’t like Gold would let him sleep.
In fact, Killian was willing to bet Gold planned to maintain the opposite through his control and powers for no other reason than live out his sick pleasures.
It was at that thought that Killian realized just how inescapable his situation truly was and was only going to get from here.
A snappy comeback wasn’t going to do anything to get him out of this.
It wouldn’t get his stomach any less empty.
And it likely wouldn’t even make him feel better at this point.
All it would do was prolong the pain, and this was a pain that he couldn’t take anymore.
His body was tired, and almost too weak to function, likely only still keeping him conscious via Gold’s magic.
And that ‘likely’ wasn’t going away any time soon.
So if he wanted to end this -- if he wanted even a single moment of comfort before his demise -- he knew there was only one thing he could say.
“P-p-please give me some food.”
Gold’s grin widened.
“See?” he asked rhetorically. “Was that so hard?”
“Incredibly,” Killian snapped, trying to hold on to some pride.
It was moot, but he couldn’t let go of that last bit of fight in him, even if it would accomplish nothing now.
Gold all but spat in his face and he kneeled down to look Killian in the eye.
“And as I said before, that makes this victory all the sweeter.”
A poof of magic came and went and once it dissolved, an empty porcelain bowl appeared on the floor between them. Killian eyed it, expecting something to appear inside it, but nothing showed up.
“Is this a joke?” Killian slurred. “Am I to crack my teeth on this?” He prayed that Gold wouldn’t actually make him do that. If he was truly going to die, he’d prefer holding on to his teeth for as long as he still had them.
“No, no, no!” Gold dismissed, sounding less like the monster he was and more like an assuring friend. “Nothing of the sort. I was just about to get your dinner. Just wait right here.”
Shoes clacked as Gold made his way back to the kitchen. Killian waited in near silence and complete dread for his return. Gold was quiet as a mouse for five long, painstaking minutes that Killian dutifully counted through the light ticking of the clock in the other room.
It was the only way to distract himself from the agony and shame he’d already gone through so far and would soon be wading through in just a matter of moments.
Killian felt disgust that a wave of relief coursed through his body upon seeing Gold come back into the dining room. He knew he was in for more torture -- masked well by a large white cup that no doubt contained whatever Gold considered to be dinner -- but his body didn’t care. To his cells and organs, he was about to get food and that was all that mattered.
“What are you feeding me?” Killian growled, trying to see the contents of the white cup but being helpless to see below Gold’s now towering figure.
“You know?” Gold said, clearly reveling in Killian’s movements. “I think I was wrong about you being a puppet.”
A snarl overtook Killian in record time. “Well, I certainly FEEL like one, thanks to you.”
Gold shook his head.
“No, no. I think you’re less of a puppet and more of a -- Say, did I ever tell you that I’ve always wanted a pet?”
“JUST GIVE ME THE BLOODY FOOD!” Killian regretted shouting as he did, but his body -- everything about him in this moment -- was desperate for something to take the pain away.
What made that desperation all the worse was how Gold had a front row seat to every bit of it.
He grinned.
Of course the bastard would grin.
“You see?” he said, as if Killian hadn’t just shouted in his face. “That bark of yours -- that’s not like a puppet. That’s more like a…”
And then Gold dropped the contents of the white cup right into the bowl.
Killian didn’t have pets, but even he knew what he was now expected to eat the second it fell out of its container.
“Like a dog,” Gold finished.
Littered throughout the porcelain bowl was ounce upon ounce upon ounce of wet dog food.
Gold grinned as Killian stared in horror at the ‘dish’ -- a term he used incredibly loosely -- in front of him. Stew-like slop the color of mud and twice as horrid smelling as messily filled the bowl. In fact, it threatened to overfill it.
“Only the finest -- and cheapest -- chicken liver-flavored dog food money can buy,” he said, not bothering in the slightest to hide his enjoyment.
Honestly, Killian felt that even most enemies of his -- apart from Gold himself -- didn’t deserve this. What lied in front of Killian…
It looked awful.
It smelled worse.
It would no doubt be terrible in his mouth.
It was also this, or nothing.
Killian waited on the command to eat the food, but none came. He was sure Gold remembered his ‘request’ from earlier that prevented him from eating until he said otherwise, but by Killian’s own will, his head remained well above the bowl’s surface.
“Are you going to force me to eat it?”
Gold smirked, shaking his head for what must’ve been the eightieth time this evening.
In his hunger, Killian had lost count.
“Not at all,” he said in that same stupid calm voice he’d used all night. “BUT, while I’ve never owned a dog, I think it’s important to not let one’s pets grow hungry. After all, if you’re my pet, then that makes you my responsibility. So to answer your question, no, I won’t make you eat it, but until you do, your stay in my home will be extended indefinitely.”
Gold rose a finger, and four transparent walls that extended from the floors to the ceiling rose with a thud and engulfed Killian’s form as well as his bowl. Killian’s free space extended maybe half a foot in each direction, but given that he was on his knees when it was placed, it didn’t amount to much space at all. Gold then grabbed his chair from the dining room table, placed it right in front of the invisible wall directly opposite Killian’s face, and took a seat, smiling the entire time.
“Bon appetit.”
And thus the restraints of his curse to not eat was lifted.
Killian looked at the bowl, somehow even more sickened by it than the last time he gazed its way. The consistency was somehow partially soupy, partially chunky, but not enough of either of them to truly classify it.
But the one thing he could classify it as, to be quite frank, was repulsive.
For the barest of seconds, Killian contemplated not touching it. Gold needed to kill him on a certain day, and Killian seriously doubted that was today. If it was, Gold would’ve done a lot more bragging to that effect.
No, it wasn’t today, but what would happen today would likely be the return of Belle to her home or his death via starvation. Either would be poor results for Gold and would warrant his freedom.
If he just held out, maybe -- just maybe -- he could outlast Gold.
And from there, who knew what he could do...
It was truly a lovely fantasy.
Too bad his body didn’t allow him to have nice things.
No, Killian’s body had clearly had enough of his insubordination and with a force of might that could put Poseidon to shame, lunged his face into the bowl.
A splash that likely would’ve drenched his clothes and face in the muck-like food was only prevented by his hand and hook reaching the ground before he did.
But that new position only made things worse. The lack of space in his box wedged his back tightly between his neck and buttocks, causing pain that Killian KNEW he’d feel for as long as Gold kept him alive to course through his spine.
As if that weren’t bad enough, his new position made him look like the very subject of Gold’s ridicule.
To his captor, he was just a dog and nothing more, and now he embodied that insulting title on not just a mental level, but a physical one, too.
And Gold -- like he with the dog food he was just about to dig into -- was eating it up.
“Such a good dog,” Gold mocked, speaking like he would to Pongo.
Killian wanted to retort, but his body wouldn’t grant him such dignity until it was properly fed.
Oh, and it would soon get fed, but not with anything any sane person or even canine would want anywhere in their digestive system.
With the heaviest of hearts and shame that filled his soul like the chicken-liver mess that made up his ‘food,’ Killian dug his mouth into the bowl.
Killian had eaten rotten fruits and vegetables that men found unfit for even their cattle. He’d eaten breadcrumbs from the floor. He’d bitten bits of decent bread from around the spores of mold that had been thrown in the garbage.
But this was so much worse.
It wasn’t even the taste that was as much a problem as was the pain and humiliation of it all. Rarely did anyone ever see Killian sift through places for the smallest scraps to eat, and here Gold was, watching him like a hawk as he dug into his own personal feast of misery like an animal in an unfit cage.
Throughout this whole experience, Killian had done what he could to not beg for death. There was always hope that Emma could save him before his demise and he wouldn’t risk wishing even the chance of that away.
However, give every bit of humiliation at Gold’s hands he’d been forced to suffer tonight alone, that underlying desire was growing harder and harder to deny, and right now, Killian didn’t even make an attempt to hold it back.
God, death just sounded like a mercy now.
As he ate, Gold continued giving his heart the occasional, unpredictably-timed squeeze. More than one instance led to him choking on the dog food and sending it down the wrong tube.
Yes, Gold had all but guaranteed that this was one meal that -- by decree of his esophagus -- Killian wouldn’t soon forget.
Ten minutes that -- like his bowl -- were filled to the brim with anguish and sorrow passed as Killian ate up his slop. He was certain the only thing preventing him for being sick off the concoction was the fact that his stomach had only just been relieved of its practically unreal state of emptiness, and Killian felt just the tiniest bit grateful for the assurance that he wouldn’t need to handle his own vomit tonight.
That didn’t mean that he wanted the substance anywhere near his stomach though.
But there it remained, content to make his stay in Killian’s organs a long, happy arduous one.
And the fact that Killian willingly wished for that just made that thought all the worse.
Shallow panicked breaths followed Killian’s final swallow of his ‘meal,’ breaths that his captor basked in like the cheers of a kingdom full of admirers.
Gold got up from his chair and paced the floor, circling around the walls that still bound Killian from the rest of the outside world. “So, before I set you free, anything else you’d like to say to me tonight? Any smart remarks? Any snappy comebacks? Even a retort? Come on, I know you want to.”
Gold left a pause for Killian to speak.
And he let it pass without a word in edgewise.
He just wanted this night to be over.
“No?” Gold asked, mock innocence caking him like sand caked a seafloor. Killian couldn’t bear to shake his head, unwilling to take yet another hit of humiliation.
He only hoped that his silence would be enough to at last get him out of this wretched dwelling.
And for once, his hope actually paid off.
“Good,” Gold said sharply, words that were just as much a solace as they were a damnation of his dignity.
Still, he’d take it.
It killed him inside, but he’d take it.
After all, it wouldn’t be long now before he was killed on the outside too.
A snap of Gold’s fingers brought down the walls and the usual orders to keep their rendezvous between them paired with one or two more heart squeezes for good measure passed as they usually did. The only difference was Killian’s refusal to speak, something Gold seemed to enjoy far more than was healthy, even in the face of a most hated foe.
Then, at last, Gold gave Killian permission to leave.
Killian would’ve run out the door had it not been for one final order to walk to the door. When he was at last outside the confines of the mansion, he ran as far as he could, taking comfort in the privacy of the woods.
Words couldn’t hope to express the embarrassment that Killian felt at thinking about how that out of everyone in the world that could’ve bore witness to this, it had to be GOLD, that GOLD of all people had to be the one to have control over his heart, and that GOLD had brought him to a state where he could do nothing but keep quiet to spare himself from Gold’s wrath.
This whole affair was a travesty, and based on Gold’s positively gleeful expression as he let Killian go for the night, his suffering was far from over.
And there was nothing his body nor mind could do to stop it.