Okay, so this is my first UOAT fic and I'm not really sure if it's good or not. The story basically follows the storyline of Anya (my OC) and Captain Hook, who for the first half of the story, is Killian Jones (his pre-Hook identity). There is probably going to be some pretty mature stuff in here so beware! Also, Milah does not, for the purposes of this fic, exist. She neve met Hook and they never fell in love. Just to tell you, I absolutely LOVE reviews!

The sky was as red as the ground, a beautiful concoction of red and pink swirling in the infinite expanse, so beautiful you nearly forgot where you were standing. It seemed God had created this very hue of red to entrance, so that everyone would look up instead of down, smile instead of scream, dream instead of realize. Realize that the shouts of the people around them were in agony and fear, and not stupor and joy. Realize that the pool of liquid at their feet was not the cold ocean, but the blood of innocents who would've given anything to live. Unfortunately, it appeared that this time, even God's legendary powers were not enough to distract them from the carnage surrounding them, and they looked down. Some screamed, some feinted, some ran, all prayed.

Buildings were ablaze, and you could see in the eyes of any man, woman or child a reflection of the flames licking at city they had worked so hard to create. Worlds came crumbling down with every building that collapsed and a scream could be heard almost every second, as another loving wife found her husband dead, still clutching his ax. The screams, however, were not the most abhorrent, torturous sound to be heard. Nor was it the sickening crunch of bones as another neck was broken, nor was it the cries of a child who's mother had been taken from them right before their eyes. No, the most dreadful, appalling, hideous sound to be heard was the harsh sound of laughter. It seemed to permeate throughout the shattered city, touching the ears of every citizen, the sound of pure and unadulterated mirth as unimaginable atrocities were committed, and it was sickening. Not only did that sound mean that someone's life had likely just been taken, and that someone had enjoyed doing it, but it also meant the same fate would likely soon befall you. So anyone who heard a laugh fled, no matter to where, no matter how, no matter who they left, they fled.

That is, anyone but Anya, who stood among the gore, desperately seeking out the man, or men, with that very laughter. Her eyes were open wide, frantic with hurry and stress. She must find them before they could hurt anyone else, before another life was destroyed or taken, before...she heard a horrified scream and a jaunty cackle. She followed it, sprinting as fast as her feet would allow, not minding that the bottom of her dress was torn and stained with blood. Her only task was to find the man with that laugh and end this all. Her duty was to...

She knew at once who had laughed the second she set eyes on him: he was tall, he was broad, he was bald, he had a small plastered wide across his face and at his feet was the body of a boy, hardly nineteen. "You want to be next, my pretty? Come closer, dearie. See, the sword has to go in you, not near you." His voice had a thick foreign accent to it, and he spoke slowly , which made him sound simple and lackwhitted.

The great tall man approached, twisting the sword in his hand, eyes twinkling with the anticipation of another kill. Taking an unconscious step backwards, Anya said falteringly, "I am Anya Durand, daughter of King Leopold Durand, the third of his name. I've come to negotiate with your captain." The man laughed. "I'm sorry, miss, but the captain is currently unavailable. You'll have to come again later." Anya's breath hitched in her throat. Why didn't he want to speak with her? She knew the reason they had come, this was it. "I know why you've come, I know what you want. I can rectify it. Just give me a chance and to take me to your captain." she said, saying the last few words slowly as if to intimidate the great beast of a man. He only chuckled again. "If you knew truly why we had come, you would know that it can't be rectified-it can only be avenged." The man had been slowly ebbing towards her, and he now stood only two feet from her; he could easily thrust the sword into her stomach. She needed to think of something, and quickly. "Please, I'm the king's daughter, I can get whatever you want, just take me to your captain to negotiate." Fantastic, she'd just repeated the same thing she's said earlier. The man chuckled again, and took one final step towards her. He rested his hand on her shoulder and brought the sword back. "There'll be no negotiatin', sweetling. Nighty-night" Anya closed her eyes and made her whole body tense, not daring to imagine the world of pain she would experience just moments into the future.

But instead of a swift, sharp pain in her stomach or neck, she heard another man's voice, loud and commanding. "Stop!" She dared to open her eyes, dared to hope that the man would have distracted the brute long enough for her to escape his unsurprisingly strong grasp.

"Tag, what are you doing?" The man's voice was dangerously low, speaking the words slowly and intimidatingly. The man, Tag, released Anya's arms and took an unsure step backwards. "I-nothin', cap'n, just...followin' orders." Anya was shocked to see the man stuttering; he must have been 7 feet tall! She did not want to imagine what the man who could inspire such fear in him would look like. Instead, she wanted to see for herself. She turned slowly, as though is she moved to quickly Tag would strike. What she found was different than she expected. The man before her was not short by any means, perhaps just under six feet, but nothing like the man who had attacked her. His eyes were a fierce blue, just as hers were, though perhaps a little less stunning. His hair was unkempt and pitch black, and he wore a cocky smile on his face, as though he knew a joke no one else knew. No, she didn't truly understand why Tag was so afraid of this man, but if she had any good sense about her, she ought to be just as terrified.

"What's your name?" he asked, giving her a demeaning grin as he stared down at her. Anya houghed. True, the man was considerably taller than her, but then again, so was every man. And most women, for that matter, but she was most certainly not a girl. The man looked to be the same age as her, and if not, younger. She kept those thoughts confined to her mind, however, and replied, "Anya Durand, daughter of King Leopold Durand, the third of his name." She bit back a boy and instead gave the man a stiff curtsy. If she was to get what she wanted, she would have to play nice.

The man gave a knowing laugh, as though he had heard the silent boy quip at the end of her sentence. "And just how do I know, Anya, that you are the true daughter of the King, and not some helpless peasant lying to save her pitiful life?" the man asked. Truth be told, he already knew that she was his daughter. No one else could have blue eyes like hers, piercing and deep, but he wanted to see what she'd say anyways. "Because I will take you to him right now, so that you may negotiate for what you want." she replied, attempting to conceal the look of desperation that was so evident on her face. "And what is it your king wants?" the mysterious captain whispered, his face just inches from Anya's face. She narrowed her eyes, disgusted that a man as vile as him would come even this near.

"I think you know."

"Humor me."

"He wants peace. He wants the murder and treachery to stop. He wants you to set sail and go far, far away"

"I think I can manage that. Don't you, Tag?" the captain turned to his crewmember, who gave an approving grunt.

"Then why don't you come with me to negotiate your price?" Anya whispered, voice dripping with venomous kindness. "Lead the way, princess." The captain's voice was as sickly-sweet as hers. Was he trying to mock her? No matter, Anya had to get him to the castle to stop the murder of her people. "Very well, captain. Would you allow me enough courtesy to give a name?"
"In case you had not noticed, princess, pirates aren't too courteous." he replied redundantly. The woman scoffed "You don't say?"

The rest of the short journey was spent in silence while winding through piles of dead bodies, many of which Anya had known and loved back when they were people, only seven glorious hours ago. A lot can change in seven hours, Anya thought maliciously.

The castle was among the few places in the city untouched by the hands and swords of the filthy pirates, having no spot of blood touch the ornately gilded walls. Inside, it was the same story, though many a peasant was huddled in there, with whatever few belongings they had left. Servants scuddled desperately about, trying desperately to quench that man's thirst, feed that woman's daughter, heal that man's gash. There were at least 3 times as many people laying on the ground in pain than were servants and nuns and nurses to help them. Briefly, Anya stopped to help with what she could, but knew she had to continue on to her father in order to stop any further damage from occurring in her beloved city, so she kept on.

It seemed a lifetime to reach her father's courtroom, where he and five of his most trusted commanders stood huddled over a map of the city, whispering conspiratorially. They did not notice the presence of the three new people in the room until Anya cleared her throat uncomfortably and gave her father a pointed look. "Father, I present to you the men who are responsible for the destruction of your city and all those who reside here." She stepped aside and gave a vague smile, knowing now that since she was in her father's company she could speak as frankly as she liked.

The shorter man, the captain who refused to give her his name, stepped forward almost proudly, though his prideful air was somewhat diminished by the dirty glance he shot Anya. He gave a curt nod and a curter bow; it was clear he refused to respect her father's authority. "King Leopold. So nice to see you again. Time certainly has done no favors for your looks, has it? How long has it been? Two, three years? Already in that time you look twenty years older than when we last encountered (and you didn't look particularly dashing then, either, if I can be so frank)." The king pursed his lips and replied in a guarded tone, "You may not be so frank, scum. I would suggest you leave this city immediately, or..." the king nodded to the commanders he had formerly been consulting with, who drew swords and daggers from their scabbards. The pirate just scoffed, and began pacing slowly back and forth, back and forth. "I wouldn't be doing that if I were you." he said tauntingly. "Oh? And why is that?" asked the king, playing along. "I have very powerful enemies in very powerful places. In fact, one of them is right here in this very town. I can't quite recall his name...Rubblestilmen? Rebelkilsin..." Anya's father whispered quietly, "Rumplestilktskin?" Killian turned to Leopold and said, "That's the one. Yes, he's the one that's been that's been torching your city, killing your people...Well, him and my crew, that is. And if I don't return to my ship within the hour, he has orders to...shall we say, decimate this meager town and every unimportant person inside it? Yes, I think we shall." The captain laughed. Anya's father spat at Killian's boot, who replied, "Such hostility. I truly did expect you to mind your manners, King. But I suppose when everyone is below you, you really have no need for courtesies." He laughed again. Anya's father, who had clearly had enough of these insults, cut right to the chase. "What do you want, Killian? And don't be around the bush, hundreds of people die every minute you continue this buffoonery."

"So nice that we can be honest with each other, King. I'll tell you what I want. I want revenge. I want revenge for my sister. I want revenge for Anita. She didn't deserve to die. She never did anything. And yet, you sent her to the chopping block just like that, without even a backward glance. She deserves justice. I will not let her life go unavenged."

King Leopold's face had gone from impatient to somber, his eyes shifting uncertainly. After a few moments of careful calculation, the king closed his eyes and sighed. "Very well, Killian. You shall have your revenge. If you promise to leave this city and never return, I submit. You can kill me however you like, I only ask that it be quick. I don't deserve this. You're responsible for your sister's death. But either way, I submit. I submit."

Anya let out a horrified gasp, and bolted for her father, as though she could protect him from the man named Killian's sword. The pirate however, grabbed her arm and yanked her back rather violently, causing her to slam into the council table. She let out a pained gasp as her father cried her name fearfully. Killian only shook his head and laughed, "The girl's fine, Leopold, and you'll be fine as well. See, sending you to a swift and painless death, that's not revenge. Revenge is doing exactly what you did to me to you. You didn't kill me. Obviously. No, you took the most important person in my life away, and you shall suffer that same fate. But who to choose, who to choose? Your only brother died when he was only an infant, and your wife disappeared a long, long time ago. It seems the only one you have left...is your...daughter?" Killian walked slowly over the the table and chairs he had thrown Anya against, pulling her forcefully up by the hair. She screamed painfully and her father lunged at Killian, who had only to step aside to avoid the King's pointless attack. "Now, now, Leopold. I don't think you'll be wanting to do that." Her father tried to rise, but was shoved back down by Killian's boot. "And why is that, vile soul?" Killian then took from his boot a dagger, so clean it reflected the sun's rays, and touched it gently to Anya's neck. A shiver ran down her spine. "Because one misstep, and the dagger," he pressed it a little bit harder into her soft skin, "slips from my hand."

The king raised his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. You've won. Let's not do anything too brash." his voice was shaking with the fear of a man who was standing on one leg at the edge of a cliff. "I can give you anything, Killian. Anything. Name it. Gold, power, my kingdom. Anything but her. Anything but her." Her father's voice finally betrayed him, and broke until his words had become sobs that shook his whole body. "I've already decided what I want. And that's HER, because SHE'S revenge." For good measure, the pirate wiped away a tear that had fallen unnoticed down her cheek, before walking slowly out of the chamber, dagger still pressed to her neck. Anya tried to shake free from his grasp, but knew if she moved too much that it might cost her her life. So she sucked in a pained breath, closed her eyes and spoke the four hardest words she'd ever had to say, "I'll be okay, father."

As the pirate captain shoved her onto his pirate ship, filled with men that had just spent hours ravaging her city and its citizens, Anya realized that she had been wrong earlier. True, a lot could change in seven hours but much more could change in five minutes. She also realized that the socerer Rumpelstiltskin was nowhere to be seen. A bluff. He was never much of a threat to the city after all, she thought bitterly. The loss of everything she held dear was for naught.