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It has never rained this hard before in her life. Slipping over the cobblestone streets of the lower town, Emma cursed under her breath. Her thoughts grew more muddled by the second, making it increasingly difficult to run. But that was their plan all along.The rain blinded her, making it impossible to see. She would be just as well off sprinting with her eyes closed, but she couldn’t afford to slow down. She needed to keep going.She was soaked to the bone, her once glittering royal blue silk gown now waterlogged and muddy, seams ripped and fabric torn in various places. Oh, how her lady’s maid would balk at her appearance. That is, if she was still alive. Everything happened so quickly, she doesn’t even know what happened. And her parents –No. She couldn’t think about that. Not right now. It’s her duty as their sole heir to secure the line of succession. She needed to find somewhere safe and stay alive, and there’s only one place, one person who can ensure that happens. It’s certainly not ideal, but it’ll have to do. For the kingdom.“This way! Get the princess, and take her alive!”Emma heard the shouts behind her, mind reeling with desperation to think of a way out. She was sure the voices belonged to the men that attacked the palace, to the men that tried to take her. To…ruin her. She suppressed a shudder at the memory of their groping hands and crude remarks. She had to run faster to get to the port before they could find her again. But her body felt increasingly heavy, numb with shock and exhaustion and the evening’s sparkling wine. Just the wine, she told herself, nothing more. But deep down, she knew that was a lie.She took a sharp left, cutting down a merchant street that sold the most intricate fish hooks in the Enchanted Forest. She knew this street lead directly to the port, though it wasn’t the main avenue. She hoped the brigands wouldn’t think to come this way. Her father used to bring her here when she was little, when he taught her how to fish. She'd picked a hook with a delicate blue feather attached to a sparkling silver spinner, simply because she liked the way it gleamed in the light. As she sprinted hazardously down the alley, she couldn’t help but think that now those once beautiful hooks looked menacing as lightning streaked across the sky, reflecting in the shop windows.She saw the ocean before she reached the end of the street. She knew she must push away the fog slowly creeping into her mind for a chance to survive. With the dock mere feet away, her determination was fierce, though resolve hardly cures poison, she thought bitterly. It was impossible to see straight anymore. Even without the rain blowing directly into her eyes, she knew she wouldn’t be able to stand, let alone run, for much longer. She stumbled onto the street, slipping through a puddle.It was surreal, Emma thought, that she could hear the merriment of the public houses along the wharf. The shouts of pirates losing gold on games of chance, the laughs of friends reuniting over pints of ale. They sounded happy, as if they didn’t know what occurred at the palace, as if they didn’t care what happened to her. She envied their oblivion, she realized, jealousy tainting the sounds of their carelessness, their insufferable joy. What she would give to be back at the palace, laughing and dancing in the safety of the grand ballroom. Instead she was running in fear of her life, towards a man who was the opposite of her definition of joyful company.Too late she felt the slide of her silk slippers against wooden planks, and her world tilted. Reality hit as she slammed her face against the dock. Groaning, she tried to push herself up off the ground. The world swirled around her, a blur of stars and dark water, but she had to get up, she had to make it. For her kingdom. For her parents.As she got back to her feet, her eyes locked onto an immaculate ship at the end of the dock. With her blurry vision, the dark blue boards blended in with the water, but the yellow paint framing the graceful curves of the ship were her anchor. She put one foot in front of the other and moved toward that splash of color. Her head was spinning and she could barely kept her eyes open, but she was moving. That’s what mattered.She hadn’t heard shouting since she cut down the fisherman’s alley, so her plan must have worked. At least that worked out for her. The win was short-lived, however, when she arrived at the ship and realized she now had to board.Emma balked at the gangway. Under normal circumstances, this was the least of her worries as she and her father boarded a new naval ship for inspections. But now…now she could barely walk, her consciousness starting to slip away like smoke through her fingers. A three-foot wide walkway was all that separated her from the cold, churning waters below. She took a deep breath and squeezed her eyes shut. She knew she was losing her lead on her pursuers, and she was not willing to let them finish what they started.Her first step onto the walkway was shaky. She could distantly hear the plank rattling against the deck of the ship, but she was so focused on not falling into the dark abyss of water below to think about how utterly unstealthy she was being. Her arrival would be shocking enough without the element of surprise. She took two more steps before she wobbled, but she righted herself and quickly dashed to the end, catching the smooth railing before she tumbled onto the deck. Taking a deep breath, her extraordinarily heavy head rolled to the side. She wouldn’t be awake for much longer, and she needed to find out if anyone was on board, if he was on board.Her question was answered almost immediately, as she heard a pair of footsteps approaching from below deck, followed by the unmistakable ringing of a sword being drawn.“What the bloody hell - ?” His words were cut short as he took in Emma’s appearance. She knew what she must look like - tattered clothing, soaked hair, and likely, from the throbbing along her hairline, a bloody face. He shouldn’t care what she looks like, because Killian Jones, captain of the infamous Jolly Roger, was her sworn enemy. But now he was her only hope.Her vision started to darken around the edges, and she swayed as she tried to take a step forward. Killian sheathed his sword, but still looked at her, wide-eyed and wary, his usual swagger replaced by a genuine shock she had never seen from him before. She knew how strange this must look. She needed to give an explanation, but she realized as she opened her mouth that she didn’t have a good one to give.“I…I didn’t know where else to go.” She barely whispered the words before unconsciousness swallowed her in a wave of ocean and starlight, and she collapsed into the arms of her nemesis.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

One Month Earlier “I am going to die here.”Emma squinted down at the fabric samples on the table. She had been helping her lady’s maid Sofia select materials to order a new ball gown for hours now, and her weary eyes could hardly see. Earlier, there were swatches of every shade of blue imaginable, but now only two sat before her. Forty minutes had passed since they started this utterly pointless debate on whether sapphire or royal blue was a better symbol to the people and their allies. For some reason it made a difference, so here she sat, wishing she were anywhere but here.“Come now, your highness,” Sofia scolded, then sighed. She walked around the table to stand closer, placing her hand gently on Emma’s shoulder. “It’s not such a hard decision! If we can’t agree, then just pick the one you like best. I’m sure you’ll attract more than one set of eyes in either.”Emma snorted at the thought. Since she turned eighteen, all sorts of men from various kingdoms had clamored to her mother’s castle in the hopes of securing an alliance through marriage. Princes, dukes, captains, commanders – at the end of the day, they were all the same. Love was a second thought for everyone except for her. For all the extraordinary care that potential suitors took to research the culture, history, and ways of her people, they seemed to ignore the single most important detail to their duties: her. Her parents married for love, and she would do the same, even if it meant not marrying until she was ninety.“Well, I suppose the royal blue is the most appropriate - and ironic - choice, let’s go with that. Is there anything left that I must decide before the kingdom crumbles?” Emma laughed, but in the back of her mind she worried that she would have to sit through three more hours of picking between two identical hairpins.Sofia shook her head, chin-length red curls bouncing around her full face, smiling as her brown eyes sparkle with amusement. “Since you obviously have somewhere more important to be, I suppose we are finished. For now .” “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Emma said breathlessly over her shoulder as she launched herself out of her chair and toward the door. The truth was, she didn’t really have anywhere to be. She just wanted to be anywhere but here. She walked until she found herself in the palace gardens. She always found this to be her favorite place in the entire kingdom. It was beautiful, especially in the spring when thousands of flowers bloom for her to study and admire. But she especially loved it because it was her safe haven – safe from courtiers and suitors and crowds full of clingy admirers. In fact, it was the only place she was ever allowed to go outside of her family’s personal wing in the palace without an extensive guard.Emma plopped down onto a gray stone bench, looking out toward the ocean’s horizon. Soon, ships from all over the realm would be arriving for a ball in her honor. It’s not that she wasn’t fond of balls. On the contrary, she was fond of any excuse to drink and eat and laugh with her friends and family - but this one was different.This ball was to be held for her birthday - her twenty-second, to be exact. Normally a party wouldn’t be such a bad thing, except the fact that there were…expectations surrounding this one.Since she came of age four years ago, she hadn’t much of an interest in romance. There always seemed to be something more interesting to think about, to do, or to see. While her parents support her in everything she does, they tended to push when love is involved. It’s no surprise that they wanted their daughter to have the love they share for herself, but she knew deep in her heart she would never find that here in the palace. Here, men were either too proud or too stuffy for her taste, not to mention they were all out for her throne. Or worse, her powers.Of course, her parents would never force her into marriage. She knew that, but they were getting impatient with her lack of interest in finding her “true love,” if such a thing existed for her. In fact, most people spent their entire lives without finding theirs. The odds weren’t in her favor.Her parents would tell her that she didn’t need to worry, that true love would find her when she wasn’t looking for it, or that it may hit her over the head with a rock. But Emma wasn’t entirely convinced that it was in the cards for her at all. * * *      “Guard your left, Emma!” David’s voice rang out above the dull thuds of wooden practice swords colliding. Emma adjusted her posture to parry a blow to her left, but not before it landed. Not a hard hit - her father’s knights were far too scared of hurting her - but it was a blow to her ego from which she was sure to never fully recover. At least, until she won again.It had been three weeks since Emma ordered her gown, and she had her final fitting this morning. Though she was annoyed by, well, everything during the process, she had to admit that it turned out to be the most spectacular garment she had ever seen. She would never tell Sofia that to her face, of course. Her handmaid would only make a habit of detaining Emma for hours, and she would rather swim through the frigid, shark infested ocean to Arendelle and back.Emma huffed and whirled to meet her father’s amused stare, blonde braid swishing over her shoulder. “Well maybe I’d be more careful if you stepped in here with a real weapon, Prince Charming .”David chuckled, dismissing her previous partner with a nod. His dark blonde hair was freshly trimmed, surely at her mother’s behest after his recent jokes of growing his shoulder-length shepherd’s hair back. While her mother would never outright say what a truly terrible idea that was, she did imply that she would be heartbroken for his hair to take away from his bright baby blue eyes, so he never followed through with his nostalgic plan.“I am the king, Princess. ” He walked over and picks up two worn steel swords, both nicely balanced, but plain and clearly meant for practice, unlike the ornamental swords he had taken to wearing these days. “I don’t take orders, unless they’re from your mother. But I can’t deny a challenge from a formidable opponent.”He tossed Emma the lighter sword and she effortlessly caught it by the handle. It took her months to perfect that maneuver, much to her father’s amusement. But the day she managed it three times in a row without sending it skittering across the floor, he rewarded her with a sleek red-leather scabbard, detailed with delicate gold accents. The matching sword, he told her, comes with her first victory in the sparring ring. She won the blade in less than a month.“Then I’d hate to keep you waiting,” Emma smirked, lazily bringing her sword up to a ready position. This, she knew, would drive David insane. Good form is important, he taught her, and laziness is posture’s worst enemy. But she learned early on that sometimes, deliberately ignoring these lessons made him bristle with annoyance. This was a weakness she often exploited to beat him when they were sparring. That was another thing he taught her – sometimes, it doesn’t matter how you win, as long as you do.David didn’t take the bait. He swung with both hands, swords connecting with a great clang. The force of the strike nearly knocked her onto her knees, but she instead used his momentum to her advantage to parry the blow and push his blade into the ground. She lifted her sword to hit back, but he pulled his sword out of the dirt with a hard upward thrust, roaring with the effort. She jumped back, keeping her sword clear of his own blade. Another hard hit with his considerable strength and she would lose before she even got a shot on offense. She stepped to the edge of the dirt ring, her camel-brown boots just inside the line, making sure she was far enough away that David can’t reach her. She has to reset their positions and use her head or there’s no hope of winning.The king noticed Emma’s retreat and inched toward her, step by step. “Remember what we discussed, an evasion is only as good as the attack that follows,” he reminded, his steps calm and sure. Always a gentleman, he would let her have the next attack. Sparring between them had always been a part of her education, and her safety relied on it. While lately she had won more fights than not, she wasn’t naïve enough to think that her ability was as expert as some of the people that wanted her captured or dead. Her parents had relaxed her guard lately, since the threat on her life had diminished after the pirates returned her, but she still couldn’t help but feel like she had to get better, like she was going to need that skill again.Emma lunged forward, lifting the sword over her head and bringing it down with as much strength as she could muster. She was strong, but not strong enough to knock the sword from of her father’s hand. He quickly recovered, striking fast, but missing in his frenzy. Emma saw an opportunity, and purposely neglected her left side when she raised her sword to David. In his haste to capitalize on her weakness, he missed the trap, lunging for her left hip with the flat of his sword. Emma instead stepped forward, catching his wrist with her left hand and bringing the pommel of her sword to his hand, forcing him to drop his blade. She quickly stumbled back, breathing heavily, the steel of her sword glinting in the sunlight as she held it to her father’s chest.“I guess we shouldn’t worry so much about your left side, then,” David said with a laugh. Emma smiled, lowering her sword as she embraced him. “I’m so proud of you.”“And so am I.” A voice floated down from the path at the edge of the practice field, and she turned to see her mother walking toward them. Her long, dark hair was loose, gently fluttering with the breeze, and she wore her bow and quiver over her shoulder. Looking at her in her brown pants, old boots, and white tailored jacket, it was hard to see her as the queen. The vision before her was that of Snow White, the legendary outlaw and huntress from the days of Regina’s reign.“Thanks, mom,” Emma sang, handing her practice sword off to a young apprentice with a smile.“Though I do wish sometimes you would be as diligent with a bow as you are with a sword,” Snow bemoaned. She always wished that Emma would take up her weapon of choice, but Emma found early on that the stealth of a bow didn’t satisfy her as much as the brashness of swordplay, though she did admit it could be useful.“Well, maybe I’ll practice tonight if it can get me out of this dinner,” Emma mumbled, plopping onto the grass and taking a long drink from her waterskin.“Emma, I know it’s not easy, but other kingdoms just don’t understand how different marriage is here.” David was right, Emma begrudgingly admitted to herself. Other kingdoms didn’t know all of the details of her parents’ marriage. Few maintained relations with the kingdom during Regina’s reign, so their story wasn’t as widely known outside of their trusted circle of friends scattered throughout the realm.“Besides, you don’t even have to marry anyone here. They’re mainly doing this as a formality. You know we would never ask something like that of you,” Snow said sympathetically, running a hand over Emma’s hair.“I know you wouldn’t. I just…I don’t know. It’s hard to look at all of these people that have expectations of me that I will never meet,” Emma admitted. “It’s not like I could blame them, the last thing anyone heard about me was that I was some damsel in distress –”“Who saved herself from pirates! That’s not exactly ‘damsel’ material,” David offered, crossing his arms across his chest.“Yeah! Don’t be so hard on yourself. Plus, if anyone makes an unwelcome move, all you have to do is bring them down here and wallop them. They would be sure to keep some distance after that.” Snow laughed and brought her hand to Emma’s shoulder, giving a reassuring squeeze.Emma smiled. Throughout dinner and that night, even as she drifted off to sleep, she imagined the shocked expression the Duke of Some Place or Another would wear when they realized that she really wasn’t just some frilly princess.She was a fighter. * * * 
Emma struggled to control her breathing. Three days had passed since she was kidnapped from the woods just outside the palace walls. Her meals had been too infrequent to tell for sure, but based on the guards’ rotation, that must be about right.

Her captors kept her deep in the belly of whatever ship she was on, locked in an iron cage. She imagined a brig would be dark and damp with rotting wood and flooded floors, but it appeared as though the crew took as much care here as they would above deck. In fact, the plain wooden walls and floors were so immaculately clean, they seemed to shine. For a pirate crew, they took extraordinary pride in the cleanliness of their vessel.

She had to commend the crew – excellent housekeeping aside, they’ve done a wonderful job of not giving her any clue whatsoever of who was really behind her kidnapping, or even who the captain of this ship was.
Panic and rage boiled up again, making her fingertips buzz with energy. Control yourself, she thought. Don’t give away your greatest advantage. She could almost hear her father telling her those words during their training sessions. A lot of good those were doing her now, locked in this brig. When she gets home, she will suggest lessons on lock-picking.
A sharp click startled her from her thoughts. She whipped her head toward the door of the brig and saw two men she didn’t recognize approach. She knew they weren’t the usual guards, so they had to be escorts.

When she was brought aboard the ship, the first guards searched her for weapons. All they found was a hunting dagger she carried with her when she rode alone through the forest. When they were done searching, they confiscated her clothes and replaced them with an ill-fitting homespun garment that had been mended so many times she was confident it was more random patches than original fabric. On someone thrice her size, it would have been a shirt, but on her it was little more than a knee-length dress. She stood up with as much dignity as she could muster, chin held high. At least they had let her keep her favorite riding boots.
“The captain will be seeing you now, Your Highness ,” the larger man said, spitting her title like poison. He had ruddy cheeks and thinning dark brown hair, and looked like he enjoyed a good meal more than his fair share. He nodded to his companion, who stepped forward to unlock the door to her cell.
The other man was strikingly handsome and appeared to be her age, if not a couple of years older. Though he was smaller around the middle than the other man, he was nearly a head taller and no less physically imposing. His dark red hair could almost be mistaken for brown in the darkness of the brig, but his freckle-framed blue eyes were so bright they could have matched the sea, had she been given a window to actually compare.

They didn’t shackle her while they walked. She supposed she should be thankful, but then again, she was stuck on a ship in the middle of the sea. She would have to find a way to remedy that, but at least she wouldn’t have to deal with other inconveniences first.

Stumbling to keep up with their pace, she was led up a series of ladders, through crew quarters, and down narrow hallways. The air was growing less stale every step they took away from the brig, and by the time she saw sunlight streaming through a hatch on deck, she was gulping down the fresh, salt-kissed air like she had never breathed before.

Her excitement was interrupted when the larger of the two men beat on a plain wooden door at the end of corridor. She reached up and pulled the sleeve of her massive shirt back over her shoulder, but as soon as she let go, it fell back down. The larger man scoffed at her in distaste, but the younger one merely looked at her with eyes full of emotion that she could have sworn was pity.

A voice finally responded to the knock after what felt like an eternity, and the men threw the door open, ushering her roughly inside. As her eyes landed on the captain, she had to consciously school her expression to keep from gaping. She didn’t know why she expected a waxed mustache, long, curly hair, and a bright red overcoat. The captain that stood before her couldn’t have been more different.

In truth, he was the most beautiful man Emma had ever laid eyes on. His kohl-lined blue eyes pierced beneath suggestively arched brows, his neatly maintained stubble highlighting his strong jawline and growing smirk. Tufts of short, brown hair so dark it was nearly black flopped over his forehead, windblown and slightly damp from the gentle ocean spray above deck.

He was leaning against a neat oak desk tucked in the corner of the room, one foot crossed over the other, and he was holding a glass of brown liquid that she could only assume was some sort of hard liquor. Something in his expression was playful, but dangerous.  She imagined the reason he took so long to answer the door was so that he could place himself in this position. The theatrics were almost laughable.

“Ah! There’s our guest of honor!” He quickly downed the last of the liquid and put the glass on the desk with a thud. He pushed off the desk with his hips, one hand going to the sword at his hip.

“I realize we haven’t been properly introduced,” he drawled. He gestured to her more unpleasant escort. “This is Sullivan, lovely fellow as I’m sure you noticed. And this is Johnny. A newer member of my crew, but proving himself useful. My name’s Killian Jones. But you may know me by a more colorful moniker – Captain Hook.”

Just then she noticed that the hand he extended to her wasn’t really a hand at all, but a silver hook peeking out from the sleeve of his flowing black shirt. He was dressed in leather pants, knee-high black boots, and a red vest. A silver chain with several various charms lay visible from the low neckline of his shirt. He looked exactly like the stories said.

She should have pieced it together before. Everyone knew of Captain Hook, captain of the Jolly Roger. His notoriety had gained him the honor of becoming a scary story that sailors and overwhelmed parents told children in coastal towns of many kingdoms, including hers. If a child didn’t finish their chores, or if they disobeyed their parents, the stories said the infamous pirate captain would come and snatch them away with his shiny hook and take them out to sea, never to be seen again. The tales inspired fear in children to be sure, but she could attest that they had the same effect on adults. But she was Emma Swan, she would not cower, not even when faced with the living legend himself.

“Pleasure,” she said coolly, letting her eyes linger as she moved them from his hook to his face, sizing him up. She didn’t accept his outstretched hook.

“A lady of few words,” he replied, jerking his chin toward his crew in dismissal. She kept her eyes on Hook as she listened to Sullivan and Johnny walk to the door and close it behind them. The concern in his voice was feigned and sarcastic as he spoke again. “I assume you’re wondering why you’re here. You must be quite frightened, darling.”

“I’d prefer ‘Your Highness,’” she said, a corner of her mouth quirking up as she met his gaze. “Actually, I’ve been having a wonderful stay. The accommodations are lovely and the company is interesting. And I’m afraid you’ll find me less curious than you assume I am, I think it’s pretty obvious why I’m here.”
The smirk fell from his face as he studies her face. “Ah. Stubborn, aren’t we? That’s alright, I love a challenge.” He stepped toward her, his nose only inches from hers though he stood a head taller. “Then tell me, Your Highness, why do you think you’re here?”
Her gaze was unfaltering as she crossed her arms over her chest. Her wrist grazed his chest and his eyes dropped to her bare shoulder where her shirt had fallen.

“I think,” she said, drawing his eyes back up to her own, “that you kidnapped me because I’m your ticket to a fortune for you and your crew. I think that you assumed this would be an easy job, though I’m not entirely sure who put you up to it yet. I think you were counting on the fact that your reputation would be enough to make me obey your every order out of fear once you had me on board. And I think that you’re about to find out that you’re in way over your head.”

All amusement fell from Hook’s face, replaced by a lethal calm, frightening her more than if he were angry. “I don’t take kindly to being threatened, especially aboard my ship. I’ve killed men for less.”

“If you haven’t noticed, I’m a woman,” Emma said, challenge clear in her voice as she straightened her back and lifted her chin defiantly.
Hook backed away, clearly catching her intended meaning. He turned and walked back to his desk. Slowly, he poured two fingers of liquor before turning around to meet her stare again. “It’s bad form to fight a woman, as aggravating as she might be.”
“Even if I’m willing to make a deal?” she asked. She was annoyed with herself for the desperation that was beginning to creep into her tone, but he sounded like a man who lives by a code, one which she could use to her advantage.

He quirked up an eyebrow and drank from his glass, swirling the contents as he lowered it to his side and sauntered to a rickety chair. He sat down, legs sprawled across the sitting area as he gestured toward an adjacent chair. “That depends on how enticing your offer is, milady.”

Emma didn’t take the seat, but she moved closer. “What if we had a duel? We fight until there’s a clear winner, but nobody dies. If I win, I get to go home.”

“And if I win?” Hook asked, expression thoughtful.

“If you win, you get to finish whatever it is you’re doing right now. Sell me or turn me over to Regina or keep me as a trophy, I don’t care. But the honorable thing to do would be to give me a chance to win my freedom.”

As she waited for him to respond, she hoped she judged him correctly. If she was wrong, he would laugh in her face, thinking her a spoiled, naïve princess. But if she was right, this would be her only chance to get home and see her family again.
With a sigh, Hook finished his drink. “That seems a fair bargain. And since I am a gentleman, I’ll grant you this favor.” He stood up, voice dropping to a menacing growl as he approached her. “But let me make myself abundantly clear, Princess. When I win – and I will win – you will continue this voyage under my conditions, whatever those may be. You will obey whatever I tell you, and you won’t cause trouble while on board. Do I make myself clear?”
Emma smiled sweetly. “It seems we have ourselves an agreement.”

Minutes later, Emma had her own clothes back and a sword in hand. Above deck, he sun was shining, the sea breeze curling her hair around her face in ringlets that shone in the sun. It would have been a pleasant day if she wasn’t surrounded by a hoard of smelly pirates.

Hook circled her lazily, his own sword raised. “Now, I’ll only say this once. Because I’m a gentleman, I’ll give you a chance to yield. Save you the embarrassment, as it were. We can all go about our business and pretend this never happened. What do you say, Emma darling?”

“I think I would still prefer ‘Your Highness,’” she mumbled. She lifted her sword and adjusted her stance. Left foot forward, shoulder width apart from her right. She could almost hear her father patiently explaining the basics to her when she was young. She hoped with all of her heart that her training would be enough.

Hook moved closer to her with each circle, chuckling to his men. “Well lads, it seems our princess is too scared to begin the fight she begged for!”

As bellowing laughter rose from the crowd, Emma struck and landed her first blow, slicing his midnight black sleeve open to expose a tattoo on his right forearm. He was quick to return the strike, twirling around as if he were merely rehearsing a complicated waltz.
They danced around the deck, swords ringing in the midday sun. Never block from the outside, she could hear her father say. Always block from the inside, draw the blade away from you.
They were well matched, Emma realized. This must be a shock to Hook, who no doubt expected little more than basic knowledge from her. She needed to use this to her advantage, but if she would find a way, she has options. She didn’t intend to lose this fight, even if it means she doesn’t win fairly.

Feigning exhaustion, she allowed Hook to make the next blow. As his sword struck Emma’s, he used his body weight to knock her to the ground. He looked down at her, using his hook to catch her blade as she desperately tried to shove him off. He had her pinned.
“Experience always wins a fight, lass, and I have two hundred years of it. Don’t feel bad, you never stood a chance.” Two hundred. She knew from the stories he spent a great deal of time in Neverland, but she didn’t realize just how old he really was. Above her, his expression turned provocative. “You know, normally I would prefer to do more...enjoyable things with a woman on her back.”
His wink made her want to vomit.

“You know,” Emma grunted under the weight of his sword, “I really don’t like your penchant for pet names.”

Her frustration got the best of her and before she could stop herself, before she could choke down her power, a wave of bright light burst from her chest. Hook was blown back, cursing, and she stood up as quickly as she could to advance on him. He was laying on the deck, still too stunned to move, and she raised her sword above her head and brought it down on him with all of her strength. He barely blocked the attack in time, but the panic in his crystal blue eyes was unmistakable.

Now he knew this was no ordinary deal with a frightened girl, but a set up. She saw the defeat written on his face. She had won.

She kicked his wrist, sending his sword skittering across the deck to the feet of his now speechless crew.

Cocking an eyebrow, she looked down at Hook as she leaned her face in to his. She placed a foot on his chest and her sword at his throat. “I believe that’s my victory, Captain. Now take me home.”
 Emma woke with a start, eyes darting around the room. It was just before dawn, and the embers from her fireplace cast a faint, warm glow around her room.Today was her birthday. Her new dress hung on the door of the armoire against the wall, matching jewels and beautiful silk slippers dyed to match the gown perfectly laid out on the tufted stool before her vanity table. Tonight, she would have to trade in her usual dark blue breeches, comfortable white shirt, and worn boots for this extravagant ensemble. She hoped that she could pull it off, to at least appear to be the princess everyone expected, even if she didn’t feel like she was.Lost in her thoughts, it took a while for her to realize that she was completely alone, not even the usual guard posted in her sitting room. Perhaps that was a birthday present from her parents. She had complained for a while about never having a morning to herself, so this was a welcome surprise. Maybe this won’t be such a bad day after all , she thought to herself as she rolled over, feeling excited in spite of herself.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Earlier That Day
 
Barely an hour after dawn, Killian Jones caught the first glimpse of the capital. The castle’s spires shone in the bright morning light, standing tall above the sprawling, colorful coastal city below. If it weren’t for his contentious history with the royal family who resided here in the summers, he would have gone so far as to say he liked the city. Shops were neat and well stocked, vendors were reasonable and polite, and distractions were obscene and plentiful. It was a rare gem among cities.

Over the next few hours, he and his crew would make port, resupply, and be on their way by nightfall. Spending too much time here was a risk Killian wasn’t willing to take. Gold coins could keep a harbormaster quiet about a ship’s true colors, but Killian knew word would spread to every dingy tavern and brothel by the water that was hoping for some business when the crew made their way into town, in search of a good drink and a better time. From there, it would only be a matter of time before city guards alerted the palace that the Jolly Roger had made berth, and the entire Queen’s Navy would chase him out of the kingdom and beyond.

He loosed a breath and leaned against the smooth railing, bracing himself on his elbows. The sounds of the waves lapping against the side of the bow were his favorite music. The seas were violent and deadly, unforgiving and unyielding, but also capable of such calm and utter silence that could be equally as crushing. Everything about the sea called to him, the wild, untamed tide mirroring his heart.

The crew was starting to stir below deck. Within minutes, the weary skeleton crew that tended the deck nightly would turn into a bustling team of his most seasoned and respected sailors. Everyone aboard had been hand-picked by Killian himself. His men all possessed the qualities that he valued most – ruthlessness, swagger, loyalty, and, most importantly, honor.

Without honor, his brother taught him, a man was no better than the dirt beneath his boots. His crew had sacked a hundred cities, stolen countless riches, but they lived by a code. Good form applied even to pirates.

“Captain Jones!”

The voice that sounded behind him grated on his every nerve.

“Yes, Mr. Smee?” A joyless, tight smile graced his face as he pushed away from his perch.

Smee approached, wringing his ratty red hat in his hands. He was a short fellow with an unkempt beard that covered much of his puffy face. While he lacked in charm and good looks, there was no one aboard the Jolly Roger who Killian trusted more. Any task he needed done, no matter how menial or vicious, Smee was more than happy to do. His help had always been appreciated, but something about his loyal fervor was unsettling.

“Is everything in order for today, sir?”

“Aye, save for one thing. I need you to stay aboard today so the purser can take care of the supplies. It might be a while before we are back in port, and I need everything done correctly.”

Smee shifted nervously, and when he spoke his voice was timid. “All day, sir?”

Killian narrowed his eyes at the first mate. So many questions lately from his first mate. He huffed and replied, “Yes,

all day.

Is that going to be an issue, or shall I find someone else to take over your position aboard my vessel?”

“W-well, Captain, sir, the crew was wondering, myself included, if we could have the night - just tonight - in port,” Smee stammered. “For morale, you see. It’s been such a long while since we’ve had a night of fun – but not that it’s your fault, of course, Captain – and some of the men are getting quite restless and -”

“Enough. I’m sorry to hear that life aboard the Jolly isn’t

fun

enough for you.” Killian crossed the deck and Smee followed close behind, spewing poorly executed apologies. Killian whirled around, taking two long strides toward him so that he had to look down to meet his companion’s beady gaze. “Any member of my crew who isn’t satisfied with the leave they have graciously been given are welcome to stay ashore and forfeit their positions, including you. Do I make myself clear, Mr. Smee?”

“Y-yes, Captain,” he replied, blinking furiously. “Of course!”

Killian scowled as Smee scurried below deck, to hurry the crew or to distance himself from a beating. Whichever it was, he didn’t particularly care.

His men came up in groups from the commissary, their usual bleary attitudes replaced by excitement. The purser, Mr. Lansing, had dispersed their cuts of the Jolly’s latest plunder - a small but wealthy merchant ship - over breakfast, and were ready to spend their heavy pockets on whatever grog and women they could find in their few hours of freedom.

Nodding to the helmsman in dismissal, Killian sauntered across the deck, hand on the unremarkable pommel of his sword, and took up his position at the helm. In all his years as captain of the Jolly Roger, he had never once allowed anyone else to bring his ship into port. No matter how much he trusted his crew or what sort of condition he was in, no man would ever again have the power to decide where Killian or his vessel would go. Maintaining control of his own fate was a hard-learned lesson, but one he would never forget, even on a supply run.

The crew worked for the next hour to dock at the end of a long gangway, as far away from prying eyes as they could get. Slowly, the ship quieted as every member of the crew, save for the sullen first mate, disembarked for the day and Killian left to register the ship. A few extra coins slipped to the harbormaster ensured that random patrols would be steered away from the ship, and even won the purser a couple of recommendations on where to get the best supplies on short notice.

Hiding his hook in the folds of his heavy leather jacket, Killian left the docks and walked toward his favorite tavern. Though it was dim and dingy, the food was always hot and the barmaid’s gossip was shockingly detailed, which made it an invaluable place to pick up news from the kingdom and, sometimes, the realm beyond. Most of the time it was idle chatter, but every so often he would pick up word of a ship carrying valuable jewels or areas offshore where the navy was stationing extra patrols. Yes, this dilapidated shack was useful and familiar and nearly brought a smile to his face when he laid eyes on it.

Killian shoved the door open and exhaled, momentarily taking in his surroundings. There were three men seated in opposite corners of the room, eating meals and keeping to themselves. The room was warm, a welcome respite from the cool autumn winds blowing in from the bay, and a massive fireplace lent the room a warm glow. The light was welcoming, but not bright enough to chase away the shadows from the far reaches of the room. This was most certainly an important business feature, considering this was a den for some of the more secretive locals and travellers in the kingdom.

Killian had barely taken a seat when the barmaid came to lean on the corner of his table, dropping a tankard of ale in front of him. She was a robust woman with dark hair and enchanting eyes that, depending on the light, danced between green and golden brown. Her dress featured a low-cut bodice, but anyone who frequented the tavern knew she wasn’t to be whisked away to a room in the inn next door for a few hours of leisure. No, this woman knew how to use her appearance to extract information, and how to make a man suffer if he overstepped her boundaries.

“Lovely to see you again, Maria,” he drawled, putting his elbow on the table and supporting his head flirtatiously with a finger and his thumb.

“Aye, I reckoned I hadn’t seen the last of you when I heard that princess of ours escaped your

care

last year.” She raised an eyebrow, as if to remind him that nothing got past her keen ears.

Dropping his gaze to the table, Killian traced the rim of his ale with a ringed finger. “There were...unexpected complications that I didn’t figure into my plans. Rest assured that will never happen again.”

Her face the picture of boredom, Maria inhaled sharply. “You mean you’re back to take the princess?”

Killian huffed a laugh. “No. She’s worth a pretty penny, but I can’t afford the trouble presently.”

“Good,” she replied, standing up and stealing a quick look at the door. “The princess is well guarded these days, though less so than when she came back last year. But some of the best warriors and noble princes from the realm are lined up out the palace gates for her hand in marriage. You’d have to sneak in with their luggage or cling to the bottom of their gilded carriages to make it close to her right now.”

Another laugh. Getting close to the princess wasn’t the real issue, it was finding out how to deal with her once you had. “I appreciate the advice, love. However, my visit will be brief and uneventful. I’m here to restock my ship and be on my way by sundown.”

Maria nodded and disappeared into the kitchens. Killian had barely finished his ale when she came back with a tray of hot stew, a loaf of bread, and another cold tankard. She opened her mouth to speak when the door opened, ushering in a bone-chilling breeze. They both watched as a man with a heavy cloak walked directly toward the table and threw his hood back, revealing his long blonde hair, tanned skin, and dark eyes.

“Captain,” the purser said in greeting. “Maria, you’re looking well.”

“What is it, Lansing?” Killian knew that whenever a member of the crew sought him out on shore leave there was trouble or bad news.

“I’ve ordered everything we need, plus the extra provisions we discussed at no extra cost.”

“Then what the bloody hell are you doing ruining my meal?” The men across the room looked warily across the room at his exasperated tone, but quickly returned their gazes to their own plates.

Lansing cleared his throat. “There is a...complication with delivery.”

“If they need extra men to transport the orders, find whatever crew you can and have them back at the docks in time -”

“That’s not it, sir,” he interrupted. Killian’s brows furrowed at the impertinence. “Our largest suppliers are unable to get what we need at present. They say the best they can do is tomorrow morning.”

Killian’s jaw set in frustration. “Then pay them extra!”

“I tried to offer them more money, Captain, but they insisted the best they could do is perhaps late tonight. The issue with that is that by then the storms will have blown in and it will be immensely difficult to sail out.”

Of course there would be storms, Killian lamented to himself. Changing seasons brought choppy seas, but a storm wouldn’t cause a shortage of food supplies in such a wealthy town. If anything, less daring captains would be holding out on departing the capital until the winds had passed. “Do tell me, what was the reason they gave for refusing to serve a well paying customer the goods they are owed on the day they requested them, then, Mr. Lansing?”

Maria’s laugh rang in his ears as he turned to look at her. “Because,

Captain

,” she purred, “every respectable or sizeable business in the city has been bought out of wares to supply the palace. They’re to play host to every eligible bachelor and their courts in the Enchanted Forest tonight. The Jolly Roger’s needs will simply have to get in line behind Princess Emma’s grand birthday party.”

Grinding his teeth, Killian once again faced the purser. “Inform the crew they have the night to themselves,” he bit out, “but everyone is to be back on board at first light, or there will be hell to pay. We can’t afford to be here any longer than that.”

“Yes, Captain.” With a curt nod, Lansing was on his way, leaving Killian to his stew and misery. As he left the tavern and headed for his ship, he couldn’t help but feel that fate was playing a cruel trick.
 
* * *

“I believe that’s my victory, Captain. Now take me home.”

She had won. A spoiled, entitled princess fresh from the palace walls had just bested him in a fight. In front of his crew.

Killian’s breath was heavy as he looked up into the princess’s face. Those blue-green eyes were full of rage so icy they matched cold kiss of her blade on his throat. Her brows were drawn tight and her mouth was set in a hard line as she pinned him down, a beautiful, deadly woman.

Fury and shame washed over him as he replayed the duel in his mind. Of course she had magic. Her parents were a true love pairing, and there had been rumors around the realm for ten years that the young Princess Emma had light magic so powerful it had sent the Evil Queen into hiding. He silently cursed himself for allowing another magical being get the best of him in a fight.

“Our bargain,

princess

, was for a fair fight,” he spat.

“Actually,” she countered, pressing her foot harder into his ribs, “I said we would fight until there was a clear winner, and clearly, I’m the winner. The deal stands.”

Infuriating. This brilliant woman was bloody infuriating. But he had given her his word, and his word was his bond. Without honor, he was nothing more than a murderer and a thief.

“Mr. Smee!”

“Aye, Captain?”

“The princess will be taking your quarters until we return her to her kingdom.” His eyes remained locked on the princess’s as he spoke. “She will receive normal rations and will be treated as our guest. Will this suit you,

Your Highness

?”

“It’s a start,” she answered coolly.

“Good. Then I suggest you go before I change my mind,” he replied. He quirked a brow seductively as he added, “Unless you’d like to put on a show, then I’ll gladly stay put.”

Scoffing, the princess stood and walked to the hatch. Killian nodded at Smee to follow her, standing up and brushing off his leather pants. The rest of the crew remained on deck, watching their captain with bated breath. Hesitantly, Johnny stepped forward.

“Do you really mean to set her free, Captain? We’ve been through all this trouble to get her already and -”

Killian rolled his eyes and exclaimed, “Of course we aren’t setting her free, you bloody idiot! Now get back to work before I send you worthless dogs off the plank one by one.”

He raked his hand through his hair and strode to his cabin, slamming the door behind him. He’d have to come up with a damn good plan to get out of this one. This girl, this over-indulged excuse for a princess had bested him.

With witnesses!

Oh, his pride would never allow this to stand. If there was any way out of this hell, he would find it.

A sudden knock on the door startled him as he slumped in his desk chair. He grunted and the door eased open. Helmsman McHanna's face peered around the worn wooden entry. “Captain? What’s our heading?”

Silently, Killian stared at the wall above his neatly made bunk. He promised the princess he would return her home. Upon his honor, he could not break that vow. But the pirate in him desperately wanted to bend the rules, just enough to suit his needs.

“Continue south. Back to land, but not the capital.” The wheels in his head were spinning, invisible hands desperately trying to grasp at any idea that came to his mind. He couldn’t jeopardize the money he and his crew were set to make from the princess’s capture.

“Aye, sir.” McHanna turned on a heel to leave, but Killian quickly called out to stop him. There was one option that could satisfy both bargains he was trapped between.

“I need you to send a message to our friends in the north.”

Three days later, Killian sat in the front of a longboat, staring at the shore as it drew closer. Emma was sitting next to him, body tense and angled away from everyone. Her hair was mussy, large sections pulled out of her haphazard braid, and her complexion was pallid. She looked at him briefly and he winked at her, smirking in victory as she rolled her eyes and huffed.

To his knowledge, the princess only left her room once during the three days it took them to return to her kingdom, and even then Johnny had to forcibly bring her up on deck to help her seasickness. It was no small satisfaction to Killian that she had spent her time feeling as miserable as he did. Even now, as the waves were pulling at the sides of the unstable longboat, it gave him some amusement to think that -

“I thought our agreement was for you to take me home.”

Killian took a deep breath through his nose and sneered at her. “Don’t you recognize your own kingdom, princess?”

A couple of crew members snickered while they continued rowing the boat to shore, and the princess shot them a look that would make lesser men run for cover. “Of course I recognize it. But surely it would have been easier to just turn around and return me to the palace rather than volunteer yourself and your crew for a week-long trek through the woods.”

“Ah, but where’s the fun in that, love?” His mood lightened significantly as he saw how his sarcasm and pet names bristled her. “But not to worry. It’ll only be three of my men and myself accompanying you on your journey home, the rest of the crew will be back aboard the Jolly Roger, making sure everything is in order.”

“That still doesn’t answer the question,” she mumbled.

“You posed no inquiry, but I assume you mean for me to tell you why I didn’t just drop you back where I found you, yes?” He took her silence as confirmation and grinned smugly, sitting back as he braced his elbows against the lip of the boat. “As you are aware,

Your Highness

, you have been kidnapped. It wouldn’t be in our best interest to simply walk in the front door of the palace with you in tow and ask forgiveness for committing high treason. I quite like my head where it is, as do the ladies. Hence the remote location. We will take you within a half day’s journey of the palace and you’ll be on your way from there, as promised.”

When he finished, she stared at him with an intensity that could shake Davy Jones himself to the core, her gaze so full of hate and distrust that Killian became uncomfortable. “I’ll tell you something,

Captain Hook

. I’m very good at knowing when someone is lying to me. When I find out what you’re hiding or what you’re planning, I promise I will make you regret it.”

Not even two hundred years of practice could keep the ice in her voice from cracking his carefully crafted mask, his bravado momentarily slipping and giving way to trepidation. But she was just a princess, coddled and protected by her parents and her guards from the moment she was born. He doubted she had any real expertise beyond basic swordsmanship.

Long, silent minutes passed, and Killian was grateful as the boat began to drag on the sandy floor beneath the waves. Along with Smee and Sullivan, he splashed into the shallow water to haul them to the beach as Johnny remained sitting next to the princess. He wouldn’t put it past her to jump into the sea and call out to some long-lost mermaid friend to rescue her.

Leaving the crew to unload supply satchels from the boat, Killian took out a map and compass and found their bearings. Nearly a week’s walk northwest with only one town to risk exposing their identities along the way, this route had been carefully chosen for many reasons, not the least of which included avoiding the many dangers that came from travelling too deep in the woods of the Enchanted Forest.

If they were lucky, five days from now, King George’s men would come to exchange the princess for a hefty ransom, and they wouldn’t have to get anywhere near the capital city or the palace.

Killian opened his mouth to speak, but quickly stopped himself as he faced the princess. She was being assisted out of the boat by Johnny, her deceivingly delicate hands braced on his shoulders as he lifted her up and away from the waves, then placed her onto the dry sand. He quickly turned away, and for the life of him he couldn’t figure out what bothered him about the scene.

What did she need help for, anyhow? She easily bested him in a fight - albeit with the help of her magic - and she hadn’t once complained about the dirt subtly smudging her skin from days at sea with no bath. And yet somehow she was afraid of a little bit of water?

“Perhaps she is as spoiled as we thought, Captain,” Smee mumbled as if he were reading Killian’s thoughts.

Killian exhaled through his nose and turned his attention back to his watchman and the princess. They were talking casually enough as if they had formed some sort of friendship these past three days while he guarded her cabin, though she kept a hand on the dagger she had belted at her side. Johnny hauled the last of the supplies out of the boat and Killian cleared his throat.

“Today, mate.” The words came out sharper than he intended. Johnny ducked his head at the harsh tone and walked toward the rest of his crew, leaving the princess in the sand alone by the turquoise water.

Perhaps what he was feeling, he realized, was shame. Shame for not being a gentleman and helping the lady out of the boat, as Johnny had done. Shame for kidnapping a woman, whether or not she was as strong and willful as this one. And worse yet, shame for becoming a man he knew Liam would have so despised.

For five days, Killian trekked through the unbearable late summer humidity with his crew and Her Royal Highness, Princess Pain-in-Killian’s-Ass. While he had expected for her to complain about everything from their lackluster squirrel dinners to sleeping on the ground, she hadn’t griped about a single thing. In fact, she seemed to thrive on their current environment, or at least her biting sarcasm was made sharper by it. And what made it worse, he thought, was that it was usually directed at everyone except for Johnny, who currently walked alongside her like some awestruck puppy.

Royal attitude aside, their travels had been unremarkable. No monsters, no skirmishes with minor criminals, nothing save for the unrelenting heat. Killian suspected, however, that this was to change tomorrow night when the time came to exchange the princess for his reward.

Thunder rumbled overhead as Killian glanced over his shoulder and narrowed his eyes. “Mr. Davies!”

Johnny and the princess stopped their hushed conversation as hurried footsteps sounded behind him. “Aye, Captain?”

“I believe it’s time to start scouting for a place to camp for the night. Why don’t you take Smee and Sullivan with you and find some place before the bloody rain starts.” Killian looked over at the man, noticing how careful he was to avoid his captain’s eyes as he nodded. “Good lad.”

He stood and watched his men walk ahead before turning to the princess. “Now, Emma -”

“It’s either Your Highness or Miss Swan to you,” she corrected.

“Swan?” He quirked an eyebrow at her, then rummaged through his worn satchel for an apple they brought from the ship. He tossed her the fruit, and nearly scoffed when she caught it perfectly without breaking eye contact.

“Should I be worried that this is poisoned?” Beneath her bitterness, he saw genuine concern in her eyes.

“Come now, love. I think you and I both know poisoned apples are hardly the most effective murder weapon in the kingdom, thanks to your mother.” He smirked at her, and though she rolled her eyes, she looked relieved as she wiped the apple on the hem of her shirt and began eating as they resumed walking.

“You know,” she mumbled around a mouthful of apple, “I’m actually very tired of your pet names.”

“So you’ve said,” he retorted. “However, I’m quite curious how you came by your own name, Miss Swan.”

She was quiet for a moment, the only sound between them the crunch of the leaves beneath their feet and the munching of her crisp apple. He had almost given up on getting a response from her when she quietly cleared her throat.

“I used to love this one story when I was a child. About a baby duck who was born to the wrong family and was picked on for being the ugliest sibling.”

“Yes, I know the one,” Killian said, peering at her out of the corner of his eye as she took another large bite of her apple.

“I don’t know, I just felt as a child that I could never grow up to be as good and pure as my parents. And I always felt like such an outsider because of my magic that I guess I related to the duckling.” She finished off the apple and chucked the core into the woods with a thud. “I always found comfort in the story, because it turned out the duck was really a swan all along. Not worthless, not disappointing, not ugly. Just different. Just like me. And before you say it, I know that sounds like a horrible explanation.”

A small silence stretched between them as they walked, thunder rumbling in the distance ominously. Killian had heard the story, of course. His brother used to read it to him from a book of tales he stashed away in his bunk aboard their first ship. They had both been so young and miserable that Killian remembered feeling as if he too understood what it meant to be an outsider, to feel that he didn’t belong in the situation that had been forced upon him. But hearing the perspective of the princess, it almost made her...relatable.

Finally, Killian spoke. “Well, Miss Swan, I’d say the name is aptly chosen. As I recall, the ugly duckling grew up to be the most beautiful of the birds.”

The princess glared at his poorly disguised flirting, but huffed a single laugh through her nose when he quirked his eyebrows at her. Killian was inclined to continue when he saw that twinkle of humor in her eye until they came to a halt where Johnny and the others had set up camp.

“Thank you, Captain, for the conversation,” she said stiffly, all the amusement drained from her face as if she had suddenly remembered why she was here in the first place. Killian said nothing in response as she stalked away, toward the fire Johnny was trying to light. And for the first time, Killian Jones may have felt regret.

The sun had fully set when the rain started. Sullivan found no luck hunting for squirrels or rabbits, and neither did the princess, he noted smugly, when she had stormed off into the woods with her dagger, muttering about how her mother could hunt circles around their sorry asses. Their dinner consisted of apples and the supply of hardtack they brought from the ship, the latter of which was likely to be soggy and inedible by the morning. It had been days since any of them had a proper meal, and it was beginning to take its toll, especially on Mr. Smee, who had likely never missed a meal in his life.

The only luck they had that evening was perhaps in finding their campsite. Tucked in the side of a hill, a small stone outcropping offered them shelter against the rain. All five of them were pressed with their backs against the sodden back of the makeshift cave, shoulder to shoulder, with their legs stretched before them. The rain-cooled air offered a welcome reprieve from the heat, but if the deluge continued, it would make for a cold night without a fire. Indeed, the princess was thinking the same thing if the chattering of her teeth was any indication.

Killian stole a glance to his right, where she was nestled between him and Johnny’s broad shoulders. They had been quite chatty at dinner, but now that the rain had started and they were so cramped together, no one spoke a word.

Despite his prejudices, he had to admit that she was breathtakingly beautiful. The gods had to give her some quality to lessen the blow of her harsh words and strong will, he thought, but there was no doubt now in Killian’s mind that there would have been lines of suitors outside the palace walls within the year had she been left alone.

But more than that, something intrigued him about the princess. While he had never been one to turn away from a pretty face, the princess’s spirit was a compelling challenge. Everything from her insufferable swank to the infuriating things that came from her mouth when she even deigned to speak to him seemed to call his name, as if it were a summons for his soul.

It was all Killian could do to not call off the trade tomorrow and find a way to get her back to the ship instead. Not as a hostage or a trophy, but as a personal puzzle that he may well never solve. And something deep within him knew that would be okay. He was lost in thought as he drifted off to sleep next to his crew, almost hoping tomorrow didn’t come.

The captain woke with a start, hand going for the sword he had discarded to his right. But all he found was an empty scabbard.

Panic sunk in. His brother’s sword - all he had left of Liam - gone.

He blinked, taking in his surroundings. It was still storming, the rain coming down in blinding sheets that were only made worse by the near-constant lightning. Smee and Sullivan were still in a deep sleep, Smee’s damp hat flopping in his face. And to his left, Johnny was bound and gagged, an empty space where the princess sat probably not moments ago.

“Oh, bloody hell!” He exclaimed, lunging to remove Johnny’s gag.

What a fool. He was a bloody fool. They all were, for believing that the princess would allow them to escort her the entire way without nearly the fuss she could have put up. Her attitude had been tedious the past days, but with her magic...she had been holding back. She pretended to be a docile captive long enough to gain their trust so that they would give up rotating watches, then used the weather to her advantage.

Killian finally got the damp knot untied in Johnny’s gag - a handkerchief that Killian himself had given the princess to tie back her golden curls - and shook the watchman’s shoulders. “What the hell just happened here?”

“I’m not really sure, Captain! She was asleep one moment, and the next my hands and feet were tied and she was tying that kerchief around my face and I tried to stop her but - ”

“You blubbering buffoon! Which way did she go?” His heart was beginning to race. If he didn’t make this meeting tomorrow, he wouldn’t just lose a great deal of money, his life may be forfeit as well. But if he could find her, he may still have a chance to pull this off, princess be damned.

“North, Captain,” Johnny panted. He was struggling against the bindings on his hands, but Killian had no intention of untying him just yet. He had questions to ask once the princess was recovered.

“Smee!” Killian roared as Smee and Sullivan were just stirring, mumbling about the ungodly hour of their awakening.

“Y-yes, Captain,” Smee yawned, straightening his dripping hat.

“You come with me. You take the right path and I’ll take this one,” he said, pointing to the path that lead straight from the ledge where they were camped. “Sullivan will stay here with Mr. Davies. If he tries to escape after the princess, kill him.”

If Sullivan was in any way surprised by the captain’s command, he hid it well. He simply nodded and placed a hand on his sword.

“Come, Mr. Smee. It’s time for a hunt.”

Killian stepped out into the pouring rain, letting the darkness of the night devour any lingering light in his heart.

Tricked.

Killian Jones had allowed himself to be tricked by a princess whose parents were little more than bedtime stories. Heavens above, she was no less mythical than her parents. This is what he had been reduced to: chasing a fairy tale through the forest.

He’d accepted that he was the villain in any story that would be written about his adventures. Villainy was his destiny. In fact, he rather liked it that way. No rules, no restraints on what he could and could not do, save for one: villains can never have happy endings.

It was this thought, this bitterness Killian allowed himself to feel that motivated him to continue trudging through endless mud and rain. Right now was his opportunity to destroy the princess’s happy ending, to make sure that she never knew the happiness her parents did. She had gambled by crossing him, and he would see to it that she lost.

Sprinting now as fast as he was able, he looked for any sign of the escaping princess, but there was none. No footprints, no broken branches, not a single leaf out of order. Clever girl. The rain was doing a fantastic job of hiding her tracks, no doubt a trick she learned from her mother.

Killian abruptly stopped and looking around. Two hundred years of hunting lost boys had sharpened the pirate’s senses, and as he stood still, the sounds of the rain faded away as he focused on heavy panting that wasn’t coming from him. It was very doubtful that Smee had made it this far - his pace was abysmally slow. Peering through the trees, he tried to find a glimpse of blonde hair, or gleaming blue-green eyes.

But he never thought to look up.

He heard the princess’s cry as she launched herself from the tree. Her boots slammed into his shoulders and they both went sprawling.

His teeth sang as he slammed into the ground. A warm trickle started down his face, no doubt from a nosebleed. He picked his head up to see the princess, covered in mud, already picking herself up off the ground. He almost choked as he saw his sword - his brother’s sword - strapped across her back, but any sense of calm fled his body as she palmed two daggers. Where had she gotten the second one?

His blood roiled as he recognized the scarred wooden hilt of Johnny’s dagger.

“You’re making a huge mistake, Swan.” He pushed himself out of the mud and onto his feet.

She chuckled darkly, gesturing with her daggers as his sword glinted in the lightning. “As I see it, the deck is stacked in my favor. All you appear to have are your wits and your good looks.”

“It doesn’t have to be this way. We agreed we would escort you back to the palace.” Time. He had to buy himself time. Smee had a sword, and as soon as he bothered to show up, he could use their numbers to take control of the situation.

“Yes, you did. But you didn’t mention what you were planning with my grandfather, King George, now did you?” She was practically snarling at him. “Did you think I would let you hand me over to him? Did you

actually believe

that I was some naive little girl who couldn’t figure out what you were planning?”

His shook his head, pounding headache starting to set in. Just a few more moments and Smee would surely show up. He had to keep her here. “Tell me, princess, how did you figure out our plan?”

She snorted. “Seriously, you guys aren’t subtle about your messengers. Black crows? You may as well have signed ‘Dear King George’ on the outside of your little love letters.”

“Aye, your grandfather was quite stubborn about the birds, I’ll give you that. I see where you get it from,” he replied with a sneer, delighted at the disgust he found in her face at the comparison.

“I made you a promise a few days ago. Do you remember that promise, Hook?” She took a slow step toward him, and he began looking around to find anything he could use as a weapon.

“Aye, I do. I believe you’ll make me regret my villainous ways and all that.” He took a small step forward, schooling his face into a prurient expression. “Tell me, love, what do you intend to do to me? Shall I scream or beg for mercy?”

A challenge. He still needed time, and if he could play into her pride, she might just give it to him.

Something in her face shifted. She took another step toward him, and he straightened as she came within touching distance and studied his face.

“Seems a shame to waste such a pretty face,” she admitted.

“Glad you finally seem to be coming to your senses about me.” He raised an eyebrow, but continued to watch her every breath.

“Yes, I am,” she breathed. Her eyes slowly dropped from his eyes to his mouth, then down to his neck, and back up. “I’ll just have to leave it intact then.”

Before her words registered, she swung with her daggers. He was barely able to stumble back as the tips of the blades sliced mercilessly, one to his throat and the other to his abdomen, in a maneuver he could only call brutal.

It struck him then that not only was this princess competent in swordplay, but she was a trained warrior. They hadn’t just been lucky the day they picked her up alone in the woods. They had walked straight into a trap.

Killian looked at her face. Nothing in the princess’s expression indicated that she planned to spare his life if he got between her and her exit. Surviving was what he had always done, and this time would be no different. The heavy rain cooled his blinding rage as he took a step back and held up his arms, hook gleaming in the midnight storm.

He shook his head, disbelief setting in. After weeks of planning with King George’s overconfident henchmen, he would never have predicted this outcome. His pride, crumpled at the feet of a pampered princess.

The worst part was, he couldn’t help feeling a twisted sense of admiration for her.

“This isn’t over, you and I,” he snarled.

She put away her daggers and drew his sword from over her shoulder. Thunder cracked overhead as lightning harshly illuminated her features.

“You had better hope you’re wrong, Killian Jones.”

The princess raised her arms above her head and thrust his sword into the ground with an impact that made the hilt bob as she stepped back, but her eyes never left his own. She backed away step by step, until finally she disappeared into the shadows of the trees and took off running.

As Killian stood there, water dripping down his scowling face from his soaking wet hair, he hoped she was right.

* * *
 
Rain pattered against the windowsill as Killian pushed his feet into his boots. Moments ago, he had been awoken by a loud bang on deck. He could only have been asleep two hours, and no one could bloody stand to leave him alone it seemed.

The entire crew, except for Lansing and Smee (the latter of whom was only behind on orders), was sleeping off ship, probably next to whatever wench they could find the fastest. He knew they wouldn’t be back a moment before they were due. But he didn’t put it past Smee to try to sneak away.

This thought did nothing to improve his sour mood. His dreams, those memories of a wicked, clever princess, plagued him on nights like these. He suspected he would never get over the anger he felt when he thought of what happened last summer, nor would his pride ever recover.

He buckled on his sword, foregoing his usual leather vest for his heavier coat, and shoved the door to his quarters open. He would finally throw Smee overboard this time, he decided. He had grown too interrogative, too disrespectful in the past year, it was time to teach him a lesson.

He stomped up the narrow ladder and drew his blade, a curse on his lips as he laid the first foot on deck.

“What the bloody hell - ?”

He stopped.

Everything

stopped. He no longer heard the rain falling on the deck, no longer felt the cold wind that battered his face. All he knew was unending ire and genuine shock.

His eyes swept her from head to toe as they stood in stunned silence. She was swaying, and her dark lined eyes were glassy. Blood was running down the side of her face and staining her blonde curls from a gash she received very recently. Her silk gown was probably once stunning, but now looked more like an old dish rag that hung in tatters over matching silk slippers. In another circumstance, he might have thought she was beautiful.

Suddenly, she stumbled forward as if she was unable to control her own body, so unlike the woman he met over a year ago, a veritable warrior. He took a step toward her and sheathed his sword, but he couldn’t bring himself to speak until she did.

“I...I didn’t know where else to go,” she slurred, her voice a whisper above the downpour. Had she been poisoned?

He opened his mouth to speak - he had so many questions - but before he could ask any of them she pitched forward with a grunt. He lunged and caught her unconscious body in his arms.

Frantically, Killian looked toward the docks. Surely she would have been followed here by guards or even the king or queen themselves. But there was no one in sight. If ever there was an opportunity, now would be it. The princess had even willingly given herself over.

With a grunt, he hefted her into his arms and carried her down the stairs to the first mate’s quarters. He kicked the door thrice, and Smee promptly answered, as if he hadn’t been asleep at all. Smee looked from Killian’s face to the woman in his arms.

“Is - is that...?”

“Aye, now open the bloody door!” Smee flung the door open and began to gather his belongings. Indeed, he had been awake and working at the small table in the corner.

Killian placed the princess onto the inlaid bunk on the opposite wall, though not as gently as he should have. He didn’t think she would mind, considering she didn’t even stir as her foot hit the corner of the wall on the end of the bed.

“Seems our old friend has gotten herself into trouble, and couldn’t resist bringing it to my ship,” Killian drawled.

Footsteps approached, and the two men whirled around to meet the groggy stare of the purser. Lansing looked from the men to the bunk behind and blanched. “What happened here?”

Lansing was already moving to the wash bowl. He rung out a cloth and began to clean the blood from the princess’s face as Killian and Smee stood out of his way.

“Mr. Smee, I need you to fetch the entire crew immediately. Tell them we leave in an hour, whether their sorry asses are back here or not.”

“Sir?” Smee’s eyebrows were knitted together as his wide eyes met the captain’s.

“We are taking the princess with us. I don’t know why she is here, but she is obviously running away from something, and I plan to assist her. Which means we need to leave. Immediately.”

“Y-yes, Captain,” Smee breathed, then stumbled out of the room into the rainy night.

Killian turned from the doorway and approached the bunk. Lansing was almost finished cleaning her wound.

“I think she’s been poisoned,” he said quietly.

“No sign of that, but she may have been given something non-lethal. It'll run its course in due time. She needs stitches though,” Lansing suggested quietly.

“Whatever needs to be done. We treat her as one of our own for now,” he replied. He could not measure the hatred he had for this woman, but he would be damned if he didn’t take advantage of this chance fate had just dumped onto the deck of his ship. He moved the princess’s stained hair from her face as Lansing prepared the wound to be sewn, the corner of his mouth lifting in a devious smile.

“Welcome aboard, Miss Swan.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

With every heartbeat, there was relentless pounding in her head.

In some distant part of Emma’s mind, she sensed warm sunlight streaming in from a window. It was suffocatingly hot.

Where am I?

Opening her eyes seemed so impossible.

Every thought was painful, slow. It felt like she was wading through a pool of honey. She could have even sworn there was a gentle swaying, as if that pool were an ocean.

A warm hand suddenly grasped the side of her face, followed by the cold press of a rag on her forehead. She could have moaned from the relief.

She heard a voice - a man - speak to her, but she couldn’t understand what he said.

Slow down

, she wanted to say.

Tell me who you are.

Cautiously, she cracked her eyes.

She was in a bunk. Snug, yet big enough to lay comfortably. There was wood everywhere, shiny and pristine. But the windows were dirty, as if no amount of cleaning could wipe off the salty grime that stained them.

Had she actually made it to the ship?

So dizzy… all she could feel was the world spinning around her, everything whirling out of control. Her head was roaring so violently she could hear it in her ears. It was so stuffy, so hot in this room. Why would no one open the window?

Emma tried ask, but her mouth was dry. Her throat stuck together, threatening to choke her. She had barely become aware of her jagged breathing as she felt her consciousness fading away.

The last thing she saw was a glint of frightened blue eyes.
 
* * *
 
Gasping for air, Emma jerked awake so suddenly she almost slammed her head into the ceiling of the bunk.

As she took in the details of the room, she realized three things:

First, it appeared she had indeed made it to the ship. Hanging nets of citrus fruit and strange dehydrated plants gently swayed back and forth. The polished oak table under the window sat empty save for a single tattered map and a rusted sextant. A small chest of drawers sat in the corner, the candle on top long since burned out. From the open window behind her, she could hear waves rhythmically lapping up onto the side of the ship.

Second, she wasn’t in the brig this time. The room was familiar to her from her last tenure aboard the Jolly Roger, and she knew where she was even in the early light of dawn. If her headache was any indication of her condition, she had probably been given the first mate’s quarters purely out of necessity, not hospitality.

Third, she wasn’t alone.

Deep blue eyes gleamed from the corner, staring straight at her. Long legs were stretched out in front of a rickety chair, lazily crossed at the ankles. A freckled hand raked down the man’s face in exhaustion.

“I thought I told you not to come looking for trouble when I helped you escape last year,

princess,

” the distinctly male voice growled.

All Emma could do was blink, forcing air into her lungs through the tightness building in her chest and throat. She forced herself to swallow, her throat screaming from dryness.

“You know I’m not very good at following directions,” she rasped, feeling her lips crack slightly as she allowed herself a small smile.

His huff quickly turned to a genuine chuckle. “No, you never have been,” he admitted, stretching his arms over his head as he stood up and approached the bed. “If I hadn’t grown up dealing with your insufferable stubbornness, I’d hate you for it.”

“Sofia would wallop you for thinking ill of me, regardless of how close you are,” she croaked as Johnny came closer. Her mouth was like sandpaper. How long had she been asleep?

He laughed softly. “Yes, you’re probably right about that.”

“It’s nice to see you in one piece.”

She was sure that when she escaped last year he would be punished for his part in the plan. Despite their strategy, she was fairly certain his role had been quite obvious. He arranged most of the escape himself, insisting that leaving him tied up with no weapons would be the most convincing way to keep blame off of him rather than simply making him an easy target against the angry pirates. But he looked more or less the same since the last time she saw him, no injuries or scars that she could tell. Either Hook hadn’t found out, or he had been hurt in other ways. Somehow, she doubted it.

A pitcher and ladle sat on a small washstand tucked neatly beside the bunk. Carefully, Johnny picked them up and perched on the edge of the mattress.

“Here,” he whispered, dipping the ladle into the water. He raised it to her lips tenderly, as if he knew the pain she was in. It was disorienting - the dull ache in her head and the sting of her dry, cracked mouth. She pushed up on her elbows and leaned forward, drinking deeply and savoring the clean taste.

Emma swore she would never take water for granted for as long as she lived. The first ladle was gone before she could feel it on her tongue. The second was pure relief. Each time she emptied the container, Johnny patiently refilled it. By the time her thirst was slaked, she lost count of how much she consumed. It could have been the whole pitcher, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. As Johnny set the crock aside, the ladle clattered against the bottom.

“Hello again, Emma,” he finally said, a relieved smile lighting his face momentarily.

She cleared her throat and forced a small smile. “Hello again.”

“When he hears you’re awake, he’s going to freak.” He spoke softly, as if speaking too loudly would indeed alert the captain. She wouldn’t put it past Killian to have a guard on the other side of the door.

“Good,” she mumbled, sitting up fully with a muffled groan.

“I think he was hoping you wouldn’t wake up until he decided what exactly he was going to do with you.”

Emma’s attention snagged at that. “He doesn’t already have a plan?”

“No, of course not! You showed up in the middle of the night, drenched from head to toe and drugged beyond reason! And mind you, that’s not even including the nasty gash on your forehead. Lansing had to sew you up. It took him nearly an hour, you know,” he informed her.

A faint memory of her head smacking against the dock flashed through her mind.

Well that would explain the headache,

she thought to herself. She reached up and touched her forehead. It was swollen, but she could feel the stitches. The skin felt tight, but she didn’t detect any fever. Someone had been cleaning it regularly to keep the infection away.

“If he doesn’t have a plan, then where are we?”
Johnny shook his head. “We don’t know. He won’t tell anyone, not even Smee. I don’t even think we’ve been near the shallows since we left the kingdom. All we have heard is that he wants to stay on the open seas for as long as possible, but that can’t be long given our supply stock.” He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “He hasn’t even told most of the crew that you’re here. Besides him, only Smee, Lansing, and myself know, and he promised a swift death to any of us who should leak the information. I think he hopes Regina will just poof onto the deck and take you away before anyone finds out.”
Emma nodded slowly, studying Johnny’s face. He offered a short smile and reached over to tuck a stray hair behind her ear.

“Why would you come back, Emma? Please, just tell me your plan and I’ll do what I can to help you.”

“Someone stormed the castle during my birthday celebration. I don’t know who was behind it and I don’t really know why, but the men, they…” She stumbled over her words, but took a deep breath and continued. “They were obviously ill-intentioned and they were after me. I know someone let them into the palace, there was no other way they could have gotten in. Not on that night, anyway. So I didn’t really know who to trust and I had heard the Jolly was in port and I just remembered that Hook seemed desperate to keep me on board last time for whatever trade he was planning. I figured if I showed up so conveniently, he would try to make another deal with King George and I’d have time to come up with a plan while he was keeping me here. At the very least, I could find a way to get word to my parents during transport.”

“Killian hasn’t been in contact with anyone for days, not even suppliers in other ports.” He looked away and shook his head. His pause was hesitant. “When we left the city…Emma, I don’t think anyone will be looking for you, even King George.”

Emma’s stomach dropped. “What?”

His eyes returned to her face and he carefully took her hands in his. “Emma, when we left, the last news we heard was that the bandits who sacked the castle had killed the royal family.”

Tears stung her eyes. Her throat tightened as she processed his words. Every one of her worst fears were coming true in a single moment. Those words threatened to drown her, to stamp out any light that lingered in her heart.

Her parents were dead.

Murdered.

“I’m so sorry.” His voice sounded miles away as she choked out a quiet sob.

Like a candle in the rain, she felt her magic flicker out, her heart cold and numb.

She felt utterly empty.

No light, no happiness, no powers left.

Gone, like her family.

She had never realized it before, but that light was given to her by her mother’s smile and her father’s laugh, by their love for each other and for her. Could her light even exist without them? She had no true love of her own - what if her powers no longer had anything to feed on?

“Emma?”

Johnny’s voice shook her from her thoughts.

“You wouldn’t know, by chance, if Sofia…” His voice trailed off, unable to finish his thought.

All Emma could manage was a shake of her head. No, she hadn’t seen her lady’s maid for nearly an hour before the attack. Of course he should be worried about her, the only family he had remaining might very well be gone too. For all they knew, she was. She was a close friend of the royal family, after all.

Alone. They were both completely alone in this world.

Her entire life, she had been Emma Swan, daughter of the legendary Queen Snow and King James. Just a princess, a girl in the shadow of her parents’ legacy. Eventually, she had hoped to grow into her role. She had hoped to become a queen as dedicated to her people as her mother and as just as her father. But now that they were gone, she would have none of their wisdom to guide her.

And the throne -

“Wait. You said ‘killed the royal family.’ Does everyone think

I’m

dead?”

Confusion flashed across Johnny’s eyes. “Yes, everyone thinks you were killed along with your parents.”

“If they think I’m dead, surely someone else has taken my parents’ throne.” A plan started to form in her mind as revenge began to cloud her judgement.

“And whoever it is, they are almost certainly responsible for the attack,” he finished, nodding as he let go of her hands and sat back in his chair beside the bed.

“Is there any way we can get news from the Enchanted Forest soon?”

Johnny took a deep breath. “We will have to stop for supplies in the next few days. We left the city without even loading what we bought. Cooke says we will be out of food in about six days’ time. I’d wager we will make port sometime in the next three or four. She wouldn’t let Killian put it off much longer than that.”

“Well then,” she started, wiping tears from her eyes, “I believe it’s time for my royal entrance.”
 
* * *
 
There was no salvaging the dress. It was unfortunate - she did like the way it turned out. Emma felt a pang of regret as she recalled blowing Sofia off when they’d selected the extravagant garment. But a pirate ship was no place for frilly dresses and fancy ribbons.

It took 20 minutes to find a pair of pants in the dresser that remotely fit her, and the shirt required strategic tucking to remain on her body at all. Johnny disappeared while she dressed, but to her delight, he returned with a belt. There were no boots on board to spare, so she slid her feet into her ruined silk slippers and took a deep breath as she braided her hair back onto her neck.

Queen.

The word hit her with a violent clang.

She was technically the queen, though no one knew she was alive. Every whisper in the court of her inexperience, of her uncontrolled powers, of her unwillingness to find love or companionship shouldn’t matter anymore. She was the queen, whether she was ready or not. But somehow, those whispers still meant a great deal.

A broken queen of a broken kingdom.

“Here,” Johnny said, moving to the desk and opening the drawer. When he approached her again, she saw that he held a plain dagger -

her

hunting dagger, still attached to the soft brown belt that she wore around her thigh. “A woman should never be unarmed.”

She offered a small smile. “My father said the same thing when he gave this to me. It was a gift from him on my sixteenth birthday,” she told him as she buckled the holster over her still too baggy pants. Not a flattering look, but she was going more for ‘imposing’ than ‘stunning.’ “I believe you were already off pirating by then. You would have laughed yourself hoarse watching him teach me to use it.”

“What a pity I missed it,” he joked, prodding her with his elbow.

Her smile was hollow as she took one last look in the mirror over the dresser. “Let’s get on with it, then.”

Johnny opened the door of the cabin and led her through a dark corridor. She recognized the path. She had come this way before her duel with Hook. Five more paces and a left turn, then she would be at the stairs leading to the deck.

Her thoughts raced through her head. She had no clue how Hook would react, let alone the crew. Would she be banished to the brig again, now that she was healing? Would Hook even care to keep her safe this time, now that she was presumed dead? Or would the crew just throw her to the depths without a thought? Would she even be valuable enough for her plan to work? She was just a princess without a crown. A queen without a throne.

Queen.

Sunlight warmed her face and she blinked against the glare. A slight salty breeze ruffled the loose curls around her face.

She was a queen, and she would save her kingdom.

The clatter of footsteps on deck slowed. Shouts died to whispers as Emma’s eyes swept the deck before finally levelling a determined stare at the ship’s captain.

“What is she doing here? Has she been here this whole time?” Quiet chatter confirmed what Johnny had told her earlier; the crew truly knew nothing of her presence here.

Hook’s face was expressionless as he studied her from behind the wheel. He stared at the gash on her forehead for a moment before his gaze slowly drifted down her body. She almost scoffed, until he finally took in her slippers. A familiar smirk spread across his face and she shifted, trying to draw attention away from her feet.

“Well, well!” His voice boomed across the hushed deck. “It’s about time our sleeping beauty awoke! Or is that the wrong kingdom? I always forget these things, you princesses are all the same.”

Hesitant laughter rumbled around her as Hook descended the stairs onto the main deck.

Oh, she

definitely

did not miss this. She’d nearly forgotten how aggravating he was - his taunting, his demeanor, his

face

. One day, she was going to slap that quirked eyebrow straight off of that annoyingly handsome face.

“Welcome aboard again, Your Highness,” he said with a mocking bow. He stepped forward, his toes nearly touching hers as he looked down into her face after briefly nodding a dismissal to Johnny.

Mischief danced in his eyes as he waited for a snarky response, but she couldn’t find the energy.

All she could feel was all-consuming anger.

“Or should I say Your Majesty?” His voice was quieter this time, prodding.

“Miss Swan will still do,” she snapped.

“Ah, there she is,” he coaxed, moving the end of her braid over her shoulder. She slapped his hand away and actually scoffed this time.

He was baiting her, she realized. He wanted her to play along. But why?

“I guess some things just never change, captain.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,

Miss Swan.

Though I do prefer you in more...flattering clothes. Perhaps we could change that,” he goaded, his eyebrows wiggling as he turned and strode back to the helm.

Another scoff. Emma followed as Hook began barking orders at the crew to continue their work.

“We need to talk,” she demanded, crossing her arms over her chest when they stopped at last.

“Oh?” He studied his map, refusing to turn his attention toward her. “To what would I owe such a pleasure?”

“I have a few questions I need answered, and I’d rather do it now than later.”

Emma looked at his map and was dumbstruck. None of it made any sense. Random points and dots and scribbles filled the paper in no particular order or system. It was no map she had ever seen before. Certainly not one that could help her find out where she was or where they were going.
“It’s called a star map,” he explained over his shoulder, noticing her attention. “You need a key to read it, and only I have the key.” “Why go to all that trouble? Seems like a lot of work to hide your location from your trustworthy crew.”
Hook swivelled to meet her stare as she heard Smee choked a cough behind him. “No,

you

have caused the trouble here, Miss Swan.” His voice was deathly quiet, all amusement in his piercing blue eyes now replaced by razor-sharp intensity. “

You

owe

me

answers, not the other way around. I’ve played as your host for the last week and made sure you were cared for. For all I knew, your actions were just part of some elaborate scheme to capture me and my crew, but being the gentleman I am, I chose to help the maiden in distress. The way I see it, princess, I owe you nothing. In fact, you are now indebted to me.”

She was speechless. Truly speechless. He was right. He’d had no reason to protect and care for her beyond his own moral code. She moved her hands to her hips, her eyes scanning the faces of the crew standing with them on the quarterdeck. They were all carefully avoiding eye contact, as if butting in on this argument may earn them a walk down the plank.

Hook took a deep breath, reigning in his temper. “Meet me at my cabin in an hour and we will talk. You are free to roam the ship as you please. Consider Smee’s quarters as your own until I say otherwise.”

“Wait, I’m not…” Emma’s brow furrowed.

“A prisoner? No,” he informed her. He finally folded his map and once again took up his position at the wheel. “You came here willingly, and for now you’re of little to no use to me as a hostage. I suggest you enjoy your time aboard, however long that may be.”

A dismissal. She nodded and turned on her heel, slowly walking back to the hatch she came from.

So he truly didn’t have a plan for her, then. She couldn’t decide if that was a comfort or not. Since she was basically worthless, he may just dump her off at the next port and forget about her if she played her cards right.

She wound her way through the gun deck, aimlessly wandering through the neatly stacked crates of cannonballs.

It wouldn’t be such a bad thing. From there, she could find her way back to her kingdom and possibly rally a force to overthrow whatever tyrant had taken the throne. It would give her the time she needed to come up with the plans and funds she would need to make such a rebellion work. Maybe a stray naval unit would find her and help her in her quest.

But she couldn’t deny the mobility being aboard the Jolly Roger offered her. A decent amount of scheming might even help her to convince the captain to help her take her kingdom back. He had, after all, once been a military man himself.

No.

Don’t be a fool, Emma

. She would have to do this on her own, with whatever cards she would be dealt in the next few days.

She didn’t know how long she had been wandering, lost in thought, but she wound up at a closed door, light streaming in from a closed hatch above her head. A simple wooden sign on the door read “Captain Jones” in neat script.

Three unanswered knocks told her it certainly hadn’t been an hour. Emma loosed a breath and lowered herself to the floor, allowing her thoughts to consume her.

Queen.

Part of her couldn’t believe her parents were gone. Refused to give up that hope. But another horribly rational part told her that it was time to face it. Her parents were dead. They were never coming back. No kiss, no curse could reverse that. All magic comes with a price, and that sort of magic demands a steep payment. She briefly wondered what that payment might be, if it would be worth it to risk her own life to get back her parents -

No, she couldn’t. Her gift had been light magic, and she would not darken her heart. She was the queen, and her people deserved a good leader.

But she knew, deep down, that rage and desperation had already begun to taint her heart.

She was queen, she had to do better. She couldn’t allow revenge to distract her, to corrupt her.

She was queen, and her people needed saving.

She was queen.

But she was queen of nothing.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

An hour later, Killian found the princess sitting against the door of his cabin with her head in her hands. Her knees were drawn to her chest and her golden hair had fallen over her face. He stopped a respectful distance away, almost afraid to come any closer.There was a strange darkness that seemed to radiate from her, wreathing her in shadows. It was curious, he thought. This gloom seemed to breathe and move as she did, the dark twin to the bright glow he had noticed surrounding her during their duel last year.He cleared his throat. “Forgive me, Miss Swan, I must have lost track of the time.”Her head snapped up, those cunning turquoise eyes scanning over him. Those strange shadows retreated inside of her so quickly he thought he might have imagined them. She stood up, dusting off her dingy pants.“Yes,” she snapped, “it would seem you did.”Though he was precisely on time, he didn’t correct her. When he lost his brother, he had been like this - hardened, angry, cruel. He knew from experience that it would do neither of them well to provoke her.“Apologies,” he mumbled, shouldering past her to the door. Annoyance rolled off her in waves as he fumbled with his keys. He carried only a few, but the worn brass often grew slick with humidity when they were this far out at sea. The door clicked open, and he left it ajar as he entered his room. His eyes rolled back into his head in exasperation as he heard a hmph behind him, her highness clearly agitated by his informal invitation to follow.Quiet footsteps sounded behind him. She plopped down into the seat in front of his desk, her eyes a brand on the back of his head. He unstoppered a crystal decanter of spiced rum, one he seldom enjoyed, and quietly poured two glasses.“If you’ll allow me,” he said quietly, setting down the decanter and picking up the glasses. “I would like to offer my sincere condolences on the news of your parents.”She eyed him warily as he offered her the rum. He noted the slight shake of her hand as she took it from him.“Are you sorry about them? Or are you sorry that the news means I’m not of any value to you now?”Sighing through his nose, he walked around the desk and sunk into his own chair. He had uttered those words earlier, half realizing how they might have sounded to her.It was true, her presence here was no small inconvenience. She didn’t have enough experience to work on board, and she couldn’t be ransomed if she was presumed dead without Killian being suspected of fraud. He had only just begun to consider the cost of another mouth to feed, the supplies she would require, not to mention the risk of her powers. There were still whispers throughout the kingdom that her powers were no more controlled now than they were when she was a child, and he couldn’t say that was a comforting thought in close quarters.“Believe it or not, I am capable of sympathy.” Her eyes narrowed as her expression set into a scowl. “A long time ago, I lost the only family I had in this world, too.”A scoff. “What, immortality doesn’t run in the family?”His jaw tightened. “No. But it would seem that murdered family is a commonality you and I now share.”The shock on her face was enough to show how little she knew of his past, legendary pirate or not. “I’m sorry, I didn’t…”“No. You wouldn’t.” He twirled the rum in his glass, watching the princess over the rim.On a different day, he might have delighted in her awkward silence, might have taken the opportunity to make her pay for what her kind did to his brother. Had she been another woman, he might have used her sorrow to gain an advantage for other purposes. But now...her pain hit too close to home for him to exploit her in any manner.“Now,” he said, taking a swig of his rum and sighing heavily, “I believe you said you wanted something from me.”“Nothing beyond answers, captain.” Her voice was steely, a calm setting in as she sipped her rum confidently, no sign of the usual grimace that most people wore when he offered this particular liquor. Honestly, he was impressed.He waved a hand between them, leaning back in his seat provocatively. “Fire away, princess.”She studied him for a moment before speaking. “Where are we?”“On the open seas, love,” he chuckled, removing a flask from his coat.“Which seas, dear?”“See? I told you that you would warm up to the endearments.” He poured his own glass, then reached for hers.“Answer the question,” she warned.“And what if I’m not at liberty to say?” Killian ran his tongue along his bottom lip. Oh, he wouldn’t provoke her harmfully, but a little flirtation never hurt a broken heart.“Let me try again,” she conceded too quickly for his liking. “What’s going on here?”His smirk grew by the second. “Well, as I recall, you quite dramatically stormed onto my deck and demanded answers from me. We set a meeting time, to which you were absurdly early, and now here we are.”The annoyance on her face almost made him forget how cursed this situation really was. “Hook-”“Killian, if you please.”“I don’t.” She leaned forward, downing the content of her glass. “I can see you’re going to be difficult about this, so let’s just get straight to it: I need to know what you plan to do with me, so I can either plan to deal with it or kill you and anyone else who could be a threat to me.”His smirk died instantly. “I told you earlier, Miss Swan, that I have no nefarious plans for you. Right now, no one in the realm knows you’re alive aside from my crew, except perhaps the grunts who chased you onto the dock a week ago. As I said before, you’re not a hostage.”“So I’m free to go at the next port?”He paused, considering his options. There would be no harm in letting her go. He would miss out on no profit, and he would certainly be glad to rid himself of the unnecessary risk. But, inevitably, people would find out that she is indeed alive when the rebels at the palace can’t produce a body. And when the news breaks…well, he might be able to strike a deal again, especially if he used the meantime to earn the princess’s trust. Perhaps this time, she wouldn’t bloody run away when the time came to get rid of her.“No.”She raised her eyebrows, her icy stare never leaving his own. “So I’m not a hostage, but I’m not allowed to leave?”“Yes, I believe you’ve quite got the idea.”Her laugh was dead. “And why is that?”“I see it this way. You have little experience in the real world without your armed guard and your servants. I couldn’t imagine that you’d get very far alone. Being the gentleman that I am, I’m willing to offer you the protection of my sword and my crew until such a time when we can find a more...appropriate solution.”Her gaze drifted to the floor silently. He could almost see the gears in her head turning. Maybe now was his opportunity to make a deal she couldn’t resist.“And, most importantly, everyone thinks you’re dead,” he continued. “Now, if I were plotting my revenge against a hoard of blood-thirsty rebels, I would think that remaining hidden for as long as possible while you gathered information would be a tremendous advantage. Hiding among a pirate crew is a fairly decent cover, is it not, milady?”After a few moments she looked up at him with an arched eyebrow. “Let me get this straight,” she started. “A year ago you tried to sell me to the highest bidder, and now you expect me to believe you’re just going to offer me free protection and what, help with planning to take my kingdom back? Do I look like an idiot to you?”“No, of course not! I expect to make a deal with you in exchange for protection and help. And perhaps a modest wage, if you play your cards right.”“What-”A knock sounded and the door swung open not a moment later. “Ah! Mrs. Cooke!”Since Liam had captained this ship, Killian’s crew had only one female member. Cooke was a jolly woman who was never short on wit nor advice - whether it was wanted or not - and she never failed to amuse Killian with the limitless boundaries of her audacity. But for over two hundred years, she had cared for his crew as if they were her own. Her skills in the galley were no match to her other expertise. Cooke was responsible for the more serious ailments that Lansing couldn’t handle or when there was an epidemic on board. In fact, for almost two centuries, not a single member of Killian’s crew had succumbed to any injury or illness aboard the Jolly Roger because of her work. But most importantly, there was no one in the realms that could match her for knowledge of histories and lore, which made her the most invaluable member of his crew by leagues.“I’d heard the lady was awake, but I reckoned I’d come see the beauty for meself!”“She is awake, but I must say, we need a bloody change of clothes before I can agree about her beauty,” he teased, chuckling as the princess scowled dramatically at him.Cooke slammed down a tray on the desk between them, frowning at the empty liquor glass that sat in front of the princess. “By the gods, Jones, what d’you mean sharing that with the lady? She hasn’t had solid food in over a week, she could have fallen over with a drop! Just look at her, all gaunt and grim.” Her mouth pressed into a hard line as she studied the royalty in front of her as if she were no more than a small child. “No matter, we’ll fix you right up, dear.”A large bowl of stew steamed in front of the princess, along with a fresh loaf of warm bread. Very few aboard got such treatment from Mrs. Cooke, including Killian himself, he noticed bitterly.“Thank you,” the princess nodded politely.Mrs. Cooke laughed. “Well, well. Looks like she could teach you lot some much needed manners around here!” She eyed Killian pointedly and he waved her off. “Enjoy your meal, Your Majesty, and if you need anything, you know where to find me.” She let herself out with one last warning glare at Killian.The princess stared at the door for a long, quiet moment before looking back to him with a raised eyebrow.“Please, go ahead.” He gestured toward the food with his hook. “It’s not poisoned, but the next one might be if you let it turn cold. You’ll find that Cooke can be a vengeful woman.”After a brief moment, she silently began eating, lost in herself. His bargain was a gamble. Realistically, he didn’t offer much, but it was the best she could do in her situation. He sat back and watched her, waiting for her to speak first.For several minutes, the only sound in the room was of her spoon scraping the bowl. He refilled her water glass for her each time she emptied it, and watched as she slowly finished everything on her tray, then quietly turned her gaze to the sea outside the grimy porthole across the room. Eventually, she spoke.“If I’m to stay here, I don’t want to hear anyone call me ‘Your Majesty.’”Killian nodded. “As you wish.”“And about your crew-”“The crew,” Killian interrupted. “Are not to be worried about. No one shall touch or even disturb you. Should you wish to join my crew while you’re aboard in any capacity, they will treat you as one of their own. You should expect nothing short of absolute respect from the lads, and should they not meet your expectations, bring it to my attention. Though I do imagine you’ll have to put up with a good deal of grumbling from Mr. Smee on account of you borrowing his quarters for the time being. I’m afraid nothing can be done about that.”The princess nodded once. “I want to help while I’m here. I’m not the kind of girl who sits around and does nothing. My father taught me a few things about being on a ship, but I know I have more to learn. I’ll do what I can, and I’ll work for my keep. I know I’ll need things that aren’t...readily available here, I don’t want it to be a burden.”“Make a list of things you’ll need and it can be arranged. No member of my crew pays for necessities, only pleasures and comforts.”He emptied the last of his flask into their glasses, and watched her carefully. Her cooperation felt...well, strange. The entitlement and arrogance of a spoiled princess she’d shown a mere two hours ago on deck had melted away into a person he didn’t quite recognize. He honestly wasn’t sure if he liked it. He began to wonder if perhaps her stubbornness was her most attractive quality.He cleared his throat and lifted his glass, banishing his thoughts. “Is there anything else you’d like to demand, or shall we strike a bargain, Miss Swan?”“I want your word that you’re not just setting me up.” Her voice remained calm and quiet, but steel flashed in her eyes like lightning in a harrowing storm. “You have pledged to help me take back my kingdom by helping me until I come up with a plan, and I want to know that this isn’t just some empty promise to you. You may hate me. We may have our past and our grievances with one another, but the lives of everyone in my kingdom aren’t bargaining chips to be used in our petty rivalry.”“I wouldn’t exactly call it a petty rivalry,” Killian grumbled. “You bloody tricked me and cheated in a fair fight, then you show up a year later and expect me to -”“If you won’t uphold this bargain because of me,” she interrupted, “then think of all the innocent lives, of all the men and women and children, of the families that are depending on me to fulfill this quest. I’ll work for my spot here, I’ll play along with whatever schemes and stories you deem will keep me safe, but I will not sacrifice my people for your revenge. Do we have a deal?” A chill licked at the base of Killian’s spine, the weight of her gaze burning into him as if some magic had been released by her words. Despite her hesitation to accept the crown, the princess had certainly sounded like a queen just now. Whether she knew it or not, she had found the one card that could keep herself and her quest safe, if she played it right. Only decades of experience kept the unease from Killian’s face.“Aye. You have my word, Emma Swan. I will protect you, by sword and trickery, until you are ready to depart my crew at the time of your choosing.” He raised his glass, maintaining her fiery stare.Silently, she tilted her glass to his, until a quiet clink of crystal rang in the air. Her eyes lingered on his for a long moment, then she slouched back into her chair in a very un-sovereign manner. “Thank you.”“It’s an honor,” he said mockingly. The conditions of their bargain were loose enough, perhaps something could be gained.I will not sacrifice my people for your revenge.Had she known the power in that speech? Surely, she couldn’t. Upon his honor, no innocent could die at his hand. He’d killed his share of men - greedy, selfish, abusive, cheating, yellow-bellied bilge rats were terms often used to describe his victims. Every man who died at his hand or sword had deserved their fate. But never innocent lives. His brother had raised him to know no greater shame than that. But she didn’t know about Liam - she had confirmed that much before they began their negotiations.If these were even negotiations.Killian was still strangely unnerved by how easily they had reached their agreement. Had she walked in here knowing exactly what to say and do to get him to offer her this agreement? Royalty had a way with manipulation. And so did witches.But in the back of his mind, he knew that in front of him sat a girl - an orphaned girl - who was in way over her head, and scared out of her wits about it.He downed his drink with one motion, and stood. Swiftly, he rounded the table and leaned against the polished surface, his knees nearly touching the queen’s.“So, if we’re not allowed to call you ‘Your Majesty,’ what are we to call you around here?”She looked up, startled by his question.“Come now, love. The least I can do is give you a proper introduction to the crew with a name of your choosing. Surely you’ve always wanted to be called something other than some royal title.” He raised his brows with genuine curiosity.A small smile crept onto her face, and his breath caught. For a moment, he thought she was rather beautiful.“Swan. You can call me Swan,” she declared, standing up and placing her empty glass on the table.For a moment he remembered walking through the forest a year ago in the thick summer heat as he told her about the fairytale she’d loved as a child. He’d never forget it, the first time he’d ever related to the princess in any way.His eyebrows pinched together as he eyed her glass, “Well then, Swan, where the hell did you learn to drink like that?”She laughed, genuinely laughed, and rolled her eyes, turning on her heel and striding for the door. “They teach you more than just curtseys and waltzes at the palace, Captain Hook.”As she vanished through the door, shining golden curls falling from her loose braid, Killian couldn’t help but feel that he had just made the biggest mistake of his life.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Well, that was easy.

To be honest, Emma had expected a bit more yelling, with some insults sprinkled in, maybe a nice brawl to top it all off.

She might have actually preferred it.

Her hands went up to the leather strap binding her hair at her shoulder and slowly untied it, loosening the already ruined braid. As she raked her hands through her frizzy strands, she tried to find a reason why Hook had been so sympathetic with her this afternoon. He was right, she had set him up to fail during that duel last year. It wasn’t exactly fair of her to expect him to simply overlook that and protect her for an indefinite period of time using his crew and resources. But then again, he

had

been trying to turn her over to her evil grandfather, who would no doubt have had her killed. or worse. He could deal with the inconvenience of her company until she was ready to go.

The only question left was whether or not she could trust that he wasn’t planning something behind her back.

She supposed the only answer she would get was that she knew Hook lived by a code, and as long as she didn’t wrong him too greatly while she was here, he couldn’t just throw her overboard.

She hoped so, anyway.

She sighed through her nose and began to braid her hair back, tighter than she did this morning. The humidity had made quick work of unraveling the loose plait she liked to wear. She would have to just braid it this way until she got back to land. From her view through the cloudy window in her cabin, she knew they were a long way from any port.

In any case, Emma knew she had to come up with a plan quickly. The longer she stayed here, the riskier things would be. Too much time here could allow Hook to plan something for her, or for the rebels in the castle to gain too strong a foothold for her to take it back. Her biggest fear, though, was that spending too much time here would give way to apathy. What if all of this was just a lost cause anyway? Without her parents, would there even be a kingdom left when she returned? After all, they were the true heart and soul of the Enchanted Forest. The people rallied behind Snow White and Prince Charming, not their reclusive daughter who couldn’t even use her magic to clean her rooms without spreading gossip to every corner of the realm.

She shook her head and tied off her new braid, running her hand over it to check for any unexpected bumps or loops. Not that it mattered what she looked like - she was sure there were pirates on deck who hadn’t bathed in at least a month, judging by the smell of some of them. She wondered when they even last had the opportunity to care about personal hygiene. Who knew, maybe she would become a smelly pirate during her tenure aboard the Jolly Roger, too.

No. She couldn’t stay long enough to dismiss her standards like that. Her parents would want her to take back the kingdom, to follow in their footsteps. If she couldn’t have her own true love, she could certainly kick a few rebels out of their castle. She could put aside her grief long enough to do that. Even if that grief consumed her when this was all over, she could say that she was the savior of her parents’ kingdom.

“Are you just gonna fuss over that braid all night, or will you actually get up and eat somethin’?”

Emma jumped and spun around, eyes snapping from the horizon that had long since turned dark to the doorway where Mrs. Cooke now stood with a tray, much like the one she’d had this afternoon. How long had she been standing there, lost in thought? She hadn’t even heard a knock on the door.

“Oh. I’m sorry, I guess I lost track of time.” Emma gave a small, quick smile that set Mrs. Cooke’s face into a scowl.

“I’ve no need for apologies. Just needin’ to know whether you’ve eaten your fill. It’s my job to make sure my crew is fightin’ fit, and its newest member is no exception!”

“Your crew? Isn’t Hook the captain?”

Mrs. Cooke gave a laugh so loud that Emma was sure it could be heard across the seas. “Killian Jones may strut about with that smirk and attitude, but mark my words, what I say goes aboard this ship. I’ll have ‘im strung up on the mast by his knickers with that hook of his before he could say “yo ho” just for questionin’ me. But the lad knows what’s good for ‘im, and I haven’t had to make an example of ‘im in over a hundred years.”

Emma stifled a laugh, but she couldn’t keep the grin from her face as she watched Mrs. Cooke set down the tray and remove a spoon from her apron pocket. “What happened a hundred years ago?”

“Ah,” she said, gesturing for Emma to sit. “I’ll tell ya if you promise to sit down and eat somethin’. You’re all skin and bones.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Emma said, quickly sitting down and accepting the spoon. The cook sat and watched silently with raised eyebrows until Emma took a bite of stew, then another, before nodding and beginning her story.

“Killian had lost his brother a few decades before. He was just startin’ to join the livin’ again. Those first few years, he was cruel and withdrawn. He was completely obsessed with that Peter Pan child - though he wasn’t even a child, not by my reckonin’. For a time, we worked for Pan in Neverland. Brought supplies to the island for ‘im, kept ‘im fed and stocked with what he needed. But as the decades passed, Killian got tired of bein’ a mule. The deal went south and Pan tried to take revenge on us for breakin’ ‘is trust. Of course, Killian didn’t take well to it, so he set out for his own vengeance against the boy. All we did, day in and day out, was hunt those poor children that Pan would drag away and corrupt. I was content to let ‘im for a time. Those boys would often turn nasty once Pan got a hold of ‘em. We always tried to get the ones who seemed closest to Pan. Tried to leave the innocent ones. But sometimes the other boys would tell the crew lies and give us to the wrong child. There was one boy Killian picked up who was new. Just taken from home, you see. That’s how Pan would find the boys. The Lost Boys, he called ‘em. Only they weren’t lost, they were stolen. Nasty little git.”

The look of distaste on Cooke’s face made Emma pause, only to have a stern glance thrown across the table. How had she never heard this story before? She’d heard countless tales of Captain Hook and the hunts to find the Lost Boys, and the countless ports he’d sacked once he returned to their realm, lost in his blood lust. But she’d never heard that he used to

work

for Peter Pan. She resumed her meal before Cooke changed her mind and stopped the tale.

“This boy, he was smaller than they usually came, especially for fourteen. I knew something weren’t right the moment I laid eyes on ‘im, but the crew didn’t know no different. Killian had ‘im put in the brig, like they usually did. We were on the other side of the island from Skull’s Bay. That’s where we usually dropped the boys. Lots of crocodiles there. But we had a bit more time with ‘im than usual, so I took ‘im to the galley with me. He was a frightened wreck, shakin’ all over like a sail in a hurricane. I gave ‘im somethin’ to eat and after a while, he started talkin’. That’s when I found out what was so different.”

Cooke watched Emma take the last two bites of her stew then pick up her bread and nodded, satisfied with her appetite. She sat quietly for a moment, until Emma exclaimed around a mouthful of food, “Well don’t stop there! Why was the boy so different?”

Cooke laughed and conceded. “Because this boy was actually a girl.”

Emma’s mouth fell open, exposing a half-chewed wad of bread that Cooke made a disgusted face at. “But there’s no such thing as a Lost Girl!”

“You’re right,” Cooke sighed. “But this girl...this girl was different from the other girls. She was an orphan, her mother left her on the road when she was big enough to walk, and never turned back. When she got older, she learned to dress like a boy to keep unfriendly travellers off her. Kept her hair short, wore loose clothes. Even learned to bind her chest to keep ‘em from guessin’ by her shape. She’d just run away from a group of bandits tryin’ to rob the only coins she had when she wished she would be taken away to a better place. That’s when Pan’s shadow grabbed her. Then we found her. Guess that disguise of hers worked too well.”

Emma silently continued pinching off bites of bread as Cooke smoothed a wrinkle out of her skirts, then took a deep breath and continued. “Anyway, I knew we couldn’t kill this one. Just hearin’ her story made me wonder if we should have even killed any of ‘em. They were just kids, after all, weren’t they?” Though her face remained stoic as ever, tears lined her eyes. “So that night I told Killian we had to stop it. I’d indulged his hunt for long enough, and it was time for ‘im to move on. I couldn’t tell ‘im the kid was a girl, it wasn’t my secret to expose. But Killian thought I’d gone soft. He told me if I didn’t support ‘im no more that he’d kick me off my ship, Liam’s wishes be damned. So I did the only thing I could.”

“What was that?” Emma prodded, dusting the crumbs off of her hands as she folded her legs into the chair.

“I walloped ‘im then tipped ‘im off the side of the ship! Told ‘im how ashamed Liam would be of his baby brother, carryin’ on this way. Had to swim back to the ship in the freezing water while his crew just sat and watched. The blubbering fools were too scared to bother to throw ‘im a rope.” She started laughing, and Emma couldn’t help but laugh too. She didn’t realize how much she needed to laugh, the joy it filled her with. She almost swore she felt a small kernel of light magic stir at the sound of laughter echoing through the cabin. When it began to die down, Cooke spoke again.

“Well, it was safe to say that ole Killian gave up the hunt and let the poor girl go. Even gave her a magic bean to get her somewhere safe. Gods, I miss the days when you could get those as easily as we did. Of course we did stay and try to capture Pan for many more years. But Killian never did forget the long swim back to the Jolly Roger, or the shame of knowing I was right about what Liam would think. Ever since, he’s been a different sort of man. ‘Bides by a new code. We’ve still done some...questionable things to be sure. But we’ve not let no one else die who didn’t deserve it.” She gave Emma a pointed look, and stood up, collecting the empty tray and spoon.

“Now, Miss Swan, tomorrow you eat in the mess or you don’t at all, am I understood? And make sure you rest tonight. I’d imagine they’ll have you workin’ sun up to sun down ‘til we make port in two days.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Emma replied, smiling at the old woman as she walked out of the room. “Good night, Mrs. Cooke.”

Cooke turned around and winked. “Good night, dear.”

The warmth and light Emma had felt during the story lingered long after Mrs. Cooke left.
 
* * *
 
“Here’s what I don’t understand,” panted Emma, grunting as she pulled and secured a tack line. “My knots look

exactly

like yours, so how could they be wrong every single time I finish a task?”

Johnny laughed and leaned back against the polished rail next to her. His knife glinted in the afternoon sun as he cut an apple, the last of the store on the ship. He’d won it in a game of chance not minutes ago, and was earning envious glances from the crew as a result. Luckily, they were only a couple of hours from port, where they were sure to pick up a bushel, or twelve.

“Because, dear Emma, it’s not because the knot’s wrong, it’s the way you do it!” He pointed with his knife, flourishing it through the air as he explained the knot again. “What does it matter if it’s right this time if you waste so much effort on each knot that you can’t keep it up all day? We have to make you efficient.”

Emma laughed, wiping sweat from her forehead that threatened to drip into her eyes. “There’s only two things I’ve ever seen you ‘efficient’ at, Jonathan Davies: chasing a skirt - with no success, I might add - and being a general pain in everyone’s asses, which I believe you were so good at that you got kicked out of the palace.”

“I personally never had much use for a skirt. Rather unflattering on the hips. But you’d be surprised how far annoyance can get you.”

“You’re right, I would be,” she sighed, moving to the rail next to him. He offered her half of the apple and she accepted, glad for a bit of refreshment in the unrelenting humidity. Her shirt had become so damp with perspiration yesterday that it had clung to her skin with no hope of drying. But it

had

kept the massive blouse from nearly falling off her every time she moved. She hadn’t thought it much of an improvement. Though she was concerned that it might cause unwanted attention, no one seemed to notice. It seemed as though Killian Jones was a man of his word.

Killian Jones was also a man of few words the last two days. They’d spoken exactly twice: the first time he’d reiterated his request for a list of necessities she would need while she was on board, and how frequently she would need them. The second time, he’d asked how she was getting along with her chores, and after a quick response, he’d merely winked and walked away. She’d been thinking about that wink ever since.

“Emma?”

She whipped her head around so fast her braid slapped her cheek and stuck there. A man she knew was standing before her now, but she couldn’t remember his name. The purser, if she remembered correctly.

As she peeled her hair from her cheek, Emma asked, “Yes, sorry. What did you say?”

“My name is Lansing, I handle the money and supplies on the ship. I’m here for the list Captain Jones requested from you.”

“Oh.” She fished around for the list that had been stuffed into her pants pocket this morning and smoothed out the damp parchment. “Sorry, hopefully you can read it.”

Lansing smiled at her politely and replied, “I’ve seen worse, Miss Swan. Most of the crew are barely able to read or write, and some are completely illiterate. Not much in a pirate’s education.”

“No, I would imagine not.”

A brief pause settled as Lansing read her list. “Are you sure this is all you need?”

“I’m pretty sure. I may be royalty, but I’m not some stuffy courtier who can’t leave home without a gilded carriage.”

“I’m sure it’ll make your time here easier. Now, to settle the wages.” Lansing opened a pouch at his waist and counted two stacks of gold coins. He handed the larger to Johnny, who grinned appreciatively. “You get a standard wage this time. Next time you’ll get a crew bonus in addition. When we find a profit, we split it evenly amongst the crew. Spend it as you see fit.”

He plunked the gold into her hand and moved to the next crew member to disperse funds. She rolled the coins around in her palm. For a standard wage, this was quite generous. She’d be able to buy at least two shirts, a set of trousers, and a pair of shoes, and still have a bit left for a frivolous purchase or two. As she slid the coins into her pocket, she realized how attractive a pirate’s pay could be.

Emma turned around and faced the gray waters, taking a bite of her apple. She hadn’t noticed the change from the vibrant blue of the deep ocean, but they had to be in a bay now. Indeed, toward the horizon, she could just make out a sliver of land. At their current speed, they’d be there maybe an hour before sunset. She supposed that was planned. They’d have long enough to place orders and make their purchases before the shops closed up, but they’d still have the cover of darkness for most of their stay. According to the crew’s gossip, they would only have the night on land before departing again. It was supposedly a small port city that was only frequented by pirates and small merchants, but they wouldn’t take the risk.

“Alright, lads...and lady,” boomed a familiar voice behind her. She glanced over her shoulder to see Hook climb through the forward hatch and step onto the deck. “Step lively! I want anchor detail ready aport in one hour. Last dogs and first watch, your turn to stay on board this time. You know what to do. And if you don’t -” Hook’s eyes swept across the vessel to meet hers as he walked toward the massive spoked wheel “- man the poop deck.”

Emma’s head spun, and not from sea sickness this time. She looked at Johnny, who appeared to be holding in a laugh with every muscle in his body.

“Am I supposed to understand

any

of that?!”

He finally let his laugh go. “Anchor detail are crew members who help bring the ship in when we drop anchor, which isn’t you,” Johnny explained, moving toward the main mast. “Aport just means on the port side, and ‘last dogs’ and ‘first’ are both names of watches. We’ll teach you those later. You’ll learn it in no time, promise!”

She scoffed and finished her apple, tossing the core into the waves below her. “So what is a poop deck then? Obviously that message was for me.”

“It’s not as disgusting as it sounds.” Johnny pointed to the highest partial deck in the back of the ship. “Just head aft.”

Emma rolled her eyes and began walking. “Why can’t pirates just say what they mean,” she muttered.

She heard Johnny’s laugh fade above her as he climbed the mast to the crow’s nest. Turning her eyes to the quarterdeck (

that

one she knew), she saw Hook at the helm, nodding a dismissal to the man who’d been there before. She hadn’t even made it up the stairs before he spoke to her.

“You’ll be much more comfortable up here, love.”

“You just want me out of the way,” Emma clarified. She crossed her arms over her chest and pinned him with a stare.

“Even you have to admit that I’m much better company.” His left eyebrow quirked and a smile pulled at half of his mouth. A teasing mood today, then.

“Tell me, captain, how am I supposed to learn if I’m only allowed to take advantage of

your

company?”

“Because I’m the expert on this ship, and I’m happy to impart a lesson or two,” he replied with a smirk.

“What makes you think I want a lesson from you?”

His stunning blue eyes sparkled with mischief as they moved from the top of her still-frizzy braid to her clingy shirt to her ruined blue silk slippers in response, and Emma couldn’t help but turn on her heel and stomp up the remaining stairs to the poop deck before the sound of his light-hearted chuckle filled the air behind her.

“Everyone starts somewhere, Swan. Make yourself comfortable and watch the lads work. I learned a lot by watching the men who came before me, you can try the same.”

Emma looked down on Hook and pursed her lips. The way his dark hair seemed to flow gracefully in the wind perturbed her. Unfortunately, she knew he was right. Being able to see the system at work might help her more than practicing the same damned knot sixty times a day.

“Fine. Poop deck duty it is.”

Even Emma joined in on the roaring laughter of the crew, and she couldn’t help but feel a small sense of belonging.
 
***

Now that she was on solid ground, Emma had to admit that she missed the gentle sway of the ship. She didn’t know if she had adjusted to the movement or if her magic had stepped in to spare her stomach, but over the last few days, she had begun to find it soothing in the middle of the night when she woke from nightmares that never seemed to end.

The port was one of the smallest she’d ever seen. The dock was only big enough for their ship, and though they’d been able to tie off, it had been a true testament to their experience and skill. A handful of shops sprinkled the shoreline, and there was a single battered inn that offered rooms and dinner, so long as you didn’t ask what was in the stew. As she passed the inn, she breathed in deeply, the smell of freshly baked bread making her sigh, and she vowed to return later.

So far, she’d been able to find a nice scented soap, powdered shampoo, a large sack of assorted hard candies, a new bodice more suited to working, and a pouch of extra leather straps for her hair. Her first stop in town had been to a clothier who looked more than pleased to see a woman for a change. The lithe older woman had measured every inch of her and promised to alter two correctly-fitting shirts and a pair of pants or two first thing in the morning for a good price. Before she’d allowed Emma to leave, she pointed her in the direction of the town’s shoemaker, who also promised to have a pair of buttery soft camel-colored boots soled for her by dawn. She had to admit, the man’s work rivaled that of the palace cordwainer.

The only place she had yet to visit was a small cosmetics shop that clearly didn’t get as much business as the rest of the town. As Emma pushed open the door, she saw strange baubles and plants hanging from wicker baskets along shelf-lined walls. Apparently, the young woman behind the back counter also sold magical items, or what she

claimed

were magical items. Gypsies around the kingdom often turned a large profit on the dreams and insecurities of local villagers who spent their pennies on charms to bring them good luck or a plentiful harvest. The only difference between them was that this woman had a storefront; the goods were no less fake.

“That cursed crew bought out the last of the kohl liner if that’s what you’re looking for. Try again next week.”

The woman hadn’t turned around from organizing a shelf in the back of the shop. Her deep black hair seemed to absorb the light from the candles flickering around the shop as she stacked various jars and tins of different creams, no doubt advertising to make one look years younger or dissolve even the worst of warts.

“No, that’s not what I’m here for,” Emma said quietly, stepping into the room and squinting at the shelves in the far corner. “I’m here for something to help with my hair.”

The woman spun around and eyed Emma with plain scrutiny. She had to admit, this woman was stunning. Her gray eyes were lined with thick black lashes and her mouth sat in a perfect pout. Her most striking feature, however, was the cunning behind those eyes. It was as if she could read every thought running through Emma’s mind, a notion that made her infinitely more uncomfortable.

“If you’re looking for a cream to make it smoother and more manageable, I have a large pot for the right price.”

Emma smoothed her hair down in embarrassment. “Uh, that sounds lovely actually. But no, I need something to change it. The color, I mean.”

The woman put her hands on her hips and exclaimed, “Now why on earth would you want to do a thing like that? I’ve got a hundred women a year coming through my shop door to try to get their hair to look like that!”

“Because I...I just want to try a new look.”

“Try a new look, my ass,” she muttered, waving Emma to follow her. “Sounds to me like you’re a woman on the run.”

Emma examined her, trying to find any sign of suspicion on her face. “You see a lot of that around here?”

“More than you think,” she replied, rifling through a basket of darkly colored bricks. “What do you think about a nice dark red or a warm brown?”

“Both sound good, I guess.”

The shopkeeper grabbed two bricks and carried them to the counter and began wrapping them in parchment. “So what are you running from then, Miss…?”

“Swan,” Emma answered quickly.

The woman stopped wrapping the parchment and narrowed her eyes. “No, that’s not it.”

Emma paused and stared back, willing herself not to show any fear. Eventually, she cleared her throat. “I’m here on a quest, actually.”

“Ah! A woman on a mission. I knew there was something special about you.” She set the bricks of dye to the side and grabbed a big glass pot of cream from the shelf behind her. “Anything else you need? A charm for a safe journey, perhaps?”

“No, I think that’ll do it.” Emma slid the last gold coin across the counter. “I’ve introduced myself. So what’s your name?”

“Alyza. And that’s the truth.” Alyza took the coin and pocketed it, offering two coppers in return. “This ought to buy you a nice dinner. Have a good evening, Miss Swan.”

Emma collected her items and placed them into the woven bag she’d bought at the general goods store, and nodded to Alyza. “Thank you. Good night.”

Just as Emma placed her hand on the doorknob, she turned around before she could stop herself and asked, “Why do you sell these little baubles? It’s just fake magic, they don’t do anything.”

“True, they’re fake,” Alyza nodded, leaning forward on her hands on the counter. “But the hope they give is not. Hope is the strongest magic in the world when you don’t have any. I think you should know that better than anyone,

Miss Swan.

”

Emma thought back to her mother, her parents’ relationship, her family history. The only thing that held their past together was hope. She’d been taught that since infancy. It was part of why she’d loved her parents so much, and part of why it was so hard to let go of them. Though she wouldn’t admit it to herself, she was clinging to the hope that the rumors of their deaths had been wrong.

Without a word, Emma turned the rickety knob and left the shop. She slowly walked to the inn, finding her way by following that same freshly baked bread smell she’d passed only two hours before.

As she entered the stuffy dining room, she noted that the room was mostly filled with the crew of the Jolly Roger, but the few unfamiliar faces had her sliding into a shadowy booth in the corner. A fire burned low in the center of the opposite wall, though no one went near it - the heat in the air alone was enough to suffocate even locals. Emma couldn’t wait to get out of her sticky, ill-fitting clothes and never look at them again.

A chipper man from the bar approached her with a stein and placed it on the table before her, wiping his hands on a cloth tucked into a wide belt. “It’s not very good, but it’s the coldest we’ve got. My name’s Eli, what can I do for you?”

Emma smiled appreciatively and wrapped her hands around the cold mug. “It’ll be perfect, thank you. I’ll have a loaf of that delicious smelling bread and whatever you’ve got that’s fresh.”

After a promise to return as swiftly as he could, Eli hopped along to the next table. Despite the dingy appearance of the tavern, they seemed to be able to accommodate all the business the Jolly Roger brought in. The room was filled with the din of happy pirates and travellers, laughing and gambling and flirting. It almost reminded her of the scenes she’d witnessed as she ran for her life to the Jolly in the first place, and how she’d resented them for their happiness.

“That’s quite the cloud you’ve got parked on your forehead, Miss Swan.”

Emma groaned as Captain Hook plunked gracelessly down into the seat across from her, bracing herself for what she expected could only end in a headache.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Killian supposed it was only a matter of time before Swan showed up. There was one place in port to buy a hot meal, and if her appetite since she’d awoken was any indication, she was certainly not skipping out. It still didn’t change the swift change in his mood as she walked through the tavern door.

Admittedly, he’d been brooding all evening over nearly a half dozen glasses of mediocre-at-best spiced rum. He still couldn’t figure out where he stood on his new arrangement with the princess. The ambiguity of their contract was meant to be a boon for him, but he’d found the last two days that it instead served as an unrelenting drain. Allowing her safe passage on the Jolly was easy enough, and at the time had certainly felt like a big favor, but the feeling that he may have owed her that much after last year’s debacle wouldn’t stop nagging at him. Perhaps his “arrangement” was nothing more than a debt repaid, disguised by handshakes and pretty words.

Either way, he now had a vow to uphold with Miss Swan, and he had to see it through. He’d decided that planning to sabotage her would only lead to misfortune on his part...

again

. It was too risky to plant small rumors in ports to spread across the kingdoms in hopes some villain would conveniently show up and kidnap her. So here he sat, with his rum and dismay, attempting to figure out how his life was supposed to look now.

Was he meant to be her ally? He’d no interest in helping her storm the castle alongside her bloody forest friends and an army of angry dwarves in the hopes of defeating an impressively organized band of rebels. Where would that get him in the end - back aboard his ship as a decorated privateer for her kingdom? The thought made him sick. He didn’t want medals, or glory, or anything that accompanied the life of a hero. He was a pirate - the only happy ending his destiny might allow was vengeance, and nothing more. After all, he was a villain, and villains didn’t get happy endings.

More than that, he’d sworn never to pledge allegiance to any flag again. The only happiness and fulfillment he accepted in his life were from following the desires of his heart, not the perverted whims of a crown. He’d always been a survivor, and perhaps the greatest lesson he’d learned in his miserable existence was that it was much easier to survive when you only had to look out for yourself. This princess would be no exception to that rule.

Which also meant that he couldn’t be her friend while she was aboard. To Killian’s surprise, this was the part that unsettled him the most. On their long trek through the Enchanted Forest a year ago, he’d seen something in her that had been hard to resist, and even harder to let go. He recalled his desire to keep her, the ephemeral pull he’d felt between them, as if he were a magnet and she a wall of steel. He’d felt a bloody fool during the nights he’d pondered that feeling. Charmed by a scheming princess, he’d determined, and nothing more.

If he was honest, a small part of him was glad to have this opportunity before him. She mystified him. Her fighting spirit, her fierce confidence, her brash humor - all of which were truly against the preconceptions he’d had of what she’d be like. She was a princess; she should have been meek and gentle, concerned more with extravagances than weapons and with books than drudgery. But the memory of her brutality in combat made him wonder about her upbringing and training. Watching her work alongside his crew with no complaints had stirred something within him as well. He had no doubt that she was unaccustomed to physical labor, but her willingness to learn and ability to perform must have come from somewhere. It was after endless wrestling with his thoughts that she walked through the door.

He quietly watched her slide into a shadowy corner booth, usually reserved for unsavory travellers or affectionate couples. Wanting to be unnoticed, her head was dipped and eyes downturned. She’d stashed her laden bag in the corner of the bench before he could get a look at what was inside. Frivolous nonsense, he was sure.

What’s so alluring about her, anyway?

The rim of his nearly empty glass sang softly beneath his fingertips as he watched her survey the room. He didn’t deny her beauty, which was known throughout the realm. But he’d seen beauty before, for hundreds of years. A pretty face had never held his attention this way, not even Milah’s.

His eyes flickered to the tattoo on his left arm, the faded red ink a lasting reminder of his lost love. Shame and anger clouded his vision. When was the last time he’d remembered Milah as the woman she was instead of another motive on his quest for vengeance? It hit him with a sharp clarity that perhaps he’d finally moved on. His grief and pain following her death had been swept away by time, replaced by a shitty tattoo, distant memories, and yet another motive for revenge. He downed the rest of his rum in one swallow and signaled the barkeep for another.

Before he realized he was moving, Killian had another drink in hand and was striding toward that shadowy corner table. If he couldn’t figure out why he was distracted by this siren on his own, he was damn sure the rum burning through his system should have a try.

“That’s quite the cloud you’ve got parked on your forehead, Miss Swan.”
Why would you say that? Bloody idiot. The bench scraped sharply across the stone floor as he awkwardly plunked down into the seat across from her, placing his rum onto the table. Her groan of annoyance was music to his ears.
“Leave. You’re attracting attention.” Swan’s eyes darted around the room and back to his with intense alarm.

“Come now, love. Let a man buy you a drink.”

“I’d really rather not,” she replied, lips pressed together in a hard line as she gripped her ale harder and brought it close to her chest.

Killian leaned forward, bringing his face dangerously close to hers in the darkness of the nook. “Afraid you’ll find me even more irresistible after a few libations?”

A momentary flicker of panic flashed across her face before it turned to amusement, her steely mask of cool confidence sliding into place once more as she surveyed his face and cocked her head to the side. “No, because you smell like a drunkard in a pig pen and I find it quite offensive.”

With a loud chuckle, Killian retreated to his side of the table. “Fair point.”

A victorious smirk graced Swan’s face before she took a sip of ale and continued. “Why would you think that I find you irresistible at all?”

“Don’t you?” Killian lifted his rum to his lips, searching for a reaction. Her eyes followed his glass, watching as he took a long sip and placed it back on the table, before they returned to his own.

“The only thing I find irresistible right now is the urge to get away from you. And that’s the truth.”

Liar.

He could sense the amusement behind her words, a desire for distraction from her grief and troubles. He was more than happy to oblige.

“Well then, love, you’re more than welcome to choose another table. I’m sure Eli could easily find you again.” A slow smile crept onto his face.

Swan huffed and crossed her arms. “I got here first! And I’m

not

your love.”

“Then I certainly won’t feel bad about commandeering this table.” He narrowed his eyes at her, and she mirrored him. It was a long minute before either of them stopped their stares before she uncrossed her arms and sighed.

“Fine.” She took one, two, three large gulps of her ale before slamming the mug back onto the table with a dull

thud

. “Should I always expect you pirates to take whatever you want, whenever you want it, then?”

Killian quirked his brow as he took in her challenging stare and defensive demeanor before replying. “Aye, that’ll be a safe wager.”

“Great. I’ll be sure to find a more secretive table from now on.”

“If seclusion is what you’re after, Swan, I’m sure we can find somewhere a bit more

private

,” he offered suggestively. Before he took another sip of rum, he slowly moistened his bottom lip with his tongue, making sure it was visible over the brown liquid. The slight blush on her cheeks indicated that she had noticed, and he smiled as the spirit burned his throat.

“Are you trying to seduce me?” Her brows were pinched together in frustration, but he saw genuine curiosity in her stare.

“If I was trying to seduce you, you’d have already said yes.”

An unladylike scoff was followed by a cynical snort. “You’re very sure of yourself.”

“I’ve got the experience to know it’s the truth.”

“That you do, Father Time.”

Killian barked a laugh, a hand on his chest in feigned offense. “Curses in Neverland may have given me experience, but as you can see, I’ve retained my youthful glow.”

“It’s amazing, honestly,” Swan admitted, sitting up and looking around the room.

Surprise struck through him, and he sucked in a sharp breath. “Was that a

compliment

?”

“No! Just an observation,” she responded casually. A smile illuminated her eyes as her eyes focused on something behind him. He turned around to find Eli carrying a large helping of roasted chicken, a bowl of greens, and an entire loaf of crusty bread. No wonder her face had lit up so quickly.

“Something fresh from the kitchen, as promised, milady!” The barkeep set down the meal and peeped over the table into her mug. “Another drink, perhaps?”

“Aye, and the lady drinks on me,” Killian interrupted before she could answer. He gave her a challenging look and she just shrugged and nodded at Eli, who left to oblige. After he was out of earshot, Killian gave a low whistle. “How’d you get treatment like this? I’m fairly sure that slop I had came with an eyeball!”

Swan preened. “Maybe if you were nicer, you’d get the same kind of treatment too,” she said matter-of-factly as she dug into the roasted chicken.

“I’m sure your looks had nothing to do with it,” he muttered bitterly in response, glaring at Eli over his shoulder.

When he turned around, she was staring at him, mouth bulging with food. She swallowed, gulped down the remainder of her ale, and pointed her fork at him. “You know, I don’t understand why you’re so prickly all the time.”

“

Prickly?”

“Yeah!” She spoke around a mouthful of food as she chewed. “You act like you’re so tough and scary, but you’ve been relatively nice to me. What gives?”

“Maybe you’re just an exception to the rule.”

“Ha!” She watched as Eli set down another ale in front of her, nodded her thanks, and took one, two, three large swallows. Killian caught himself watching the bob of her throat, and quickly looked into his own drink. “Try again.”

He sighed through his nose and leaned against the pitted wood of the back of the bench, feeling the room sway around him slightly. “Why would I want to make the both of us miserable? If you’re to stay for an indefinite period, at least we should be civil. And I’ve told you before - I’m a gentleman. I thought a bit of restraint might be appreciated after the news of your parents. I didn’t want to be insensitive.”

She nodded and continued her meal, accepting that as an adequate answer.

Silence stretched as she ate her fill. Killian sat back and quietly sipped his drink, watching her absentmindedly. He meant it, he’d been on his best behavior around her… or close to it. He was a man who understood loss, and he knew what she could take right now. As much as he loathed her kind and where she’d come from, he couldn’t deny her common decency.

Once Swan’s plate was empty and she’d drained her remaining ale, she cleared her throat and met his stare. “So, would the famous Captain Hook be willing to accept a challenge?”

He sat up, his grogginess clearing slightly, and smiled. “I’ll always take a challenge from a beautiful lady.”

His stomach fell after he’d spoken the words.

Why do you keep saying such stupid things, you fool?

Swan raised an eyebrow, a mischievous smile creeping onto her face as she lifted her mug. “In that case, I challenge you to a card game of your choice, right here and now. What say you, pirate?”

Captain Hook’s smile widened as he lifted his glass and tilted his head. “It would be my pleasure.”

He knew he truly meant it as he tipped his head back and finished his drink.
 
***
 
It would be noon before the Jolly Roger was ready to set sail. The whole town, it seemed, was contributing to loading supplies on the ship and making sure the crew had what they needed to continue their journey. Clothes, food, crates, water, and other assorted odds-and-ends were loaded by the cartful. Lansing had ensured they’d have everything they needed for a long voyage, plus a full reserve after that.

The bustle on board made Killian nauseated, his head pounding to the rhythm of heavy feet on the ridiculously loud deck.

Was it always this loud?

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had so much to drink in a single night, nor the last time he’d stayed awake so late in the company of a woman outside the bedroom. His memories were hazy, but the laughter had seemed vivid enough that he believed it to be real. Judging by the lightness of his pocket, the gold he’d lost certainly was.

What he didn’t believe, however, was just how well last night went. No obvious hatred, no petty arguments, no tension. He was shocked to say that it was genuinely fun. They’d played game after game, emptied cup after cup, until nearly dawn. They hadn’t shared any intimate details of their pasts, but they’d shared light stories. Tiny pieces of their childhoods, or tales they already knew about each other, trading them like chips as the night stretched on. By the time they walked back to the ship, they were completely out of words. Killian had escorted her to her room, mumbling something about not wanting her to break her royal neck if she fell down the stairs, and left her at the door with a brief good night. He didn’t fall asleep for an hour after that, wondering if they could actually be friends if they weren’t so different.

The crew slowly started to trickle back on board past ten, most men having spent the night in the inn above the tavern. Most never passed up an opportunity to sleep on land. Unfortunately, the inn was lacking in space and only a handful of lucky mates had won the luxury for the night.

As Killian’s headache gradually subsided with the fresh salty breeze, the rehearsed rhythm of departure began to overtake the chaos of loading supplies. The last vendor had long since left as they hauled up the gangway, and they slowly unfurled the sails. The burdened ship slowly pulled away from the tiny port, and Killian couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief as they made their way to open water once again. With few reefs to navigate as they left, they’d be out of the shallows within the hour.

The sun was directly overhead when a golden head emerged from below deck. Killian stopped in his tracks and looked her over, amazed at what he saw.

Somehow her hair seemed smoother, and half of it was pulled back from her face into a knot that rested atop her head. The rest of it flowed in loose curls, caught in the breeze behind her, and shone in the sunlight like the fabled throne of King Midas. Though she’d been up just as late as Killian, he knew she looked more refreshed than him, and was almost certainly more alert. But as his gaze fell, he noticed her clothes. The seamstress had outdone herself last night - her enormous rags had been replaced by a smaller, flowing white shirt that looked more comfortable and infinitely more clean, the laces at the top hanging loose to allow the sea breeze to cool her skin beneath. Fitted deep blue pants caressed every inch of her legs, disappearing into creamy leather boots much like the ones he’d seen her wear last year when they found her in the woods around the palace. She didn’t look regal by any means, and Killian was sure she was accustomed to higher quality than a poor port town could offer, but he begrudgingly thought she looked breathtaking nonetheless.

“What happened to you? You look like you’ve been run over by a hoard of ogres.”

Killian’s eyes snapped to her face as he realized she was standing in front of him and he gave her a small smile in greeting. “If you told me that’s what happened, I’d believe it. Luckily, I’m still devilishly handsome.”

“Yeah, right,” she retorted. “As much I...

appreciated

Smee’s clothes, I fear they may have gone missing once I found these. It might be better that way.”

“I won’t tell if you don’t,” he chuckled. “This is a more befitting look for a pirate anyway.”

“Thanks,” she answered, voice unsure and questioning, a blush creeping up her neck as she followed him to the quarterdeck.

They stood at the rail and watched the port town shrink into the sky on the horizon, and Killian began to feel as though this could be the beginning of a friendship.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Emma held her hand in front of her, frowning at the slight pinkish hue that lingered from her wrist to her shoulder. In the weeks since they had left the small port town, they sailed deeper and deeper into the heat and humidity, checking the nearest islands for any signs of refugees from her kingdom. If anyone had run, Hook insisted, they’d be close.

They hadn’t found a single soul.

And to top it all off, she’d been nursing a constant sunburn.

It had taken less than a week to give up on her new flowy, long-sleeved shirt. The seamstress from port had sworn it to be useless unless she was toiling through the night. In her naivety, Emma stubbornly insisted on two of them, and now wished with every fiber of her being that she had listened. The old woman had certainly known what a grave mistake she was making, though - she’d slipped in a thin cream shirt with slender straps for sleeves to wear beneath her new dark blue bodice to keep her covered while she worked.

Free of charge

, she’d told Emma with a knowing wink.

Despite her gratefulness for the kind gesture, she desperately wished that the woman would have thought to warn her about the intense sunlight. After days of moving about the ship gingerly, hissing in pain as ropes grazed her shoulders and forearms, she’d finally adjusted. A week had passed since she realized that she was no longer burning, and her skin had slowly begun to darken. She thought the new golden tint made her look more like her father, which made her smile when she caught a rare glimpse of her reflection.

Emma often thought of her parents while she worked. Would they be proud of her? Or fearful that she was being played? Her own fears about that had subsided, but she couldn’t decide if it was for lack of good judgment or if she could truly trust Hook. Most days she accepted her fool’s hope for what it was. But as she thought and planned, she took comfort in her parents’ story, their own trials. They’d trusted a lot of people in their past to get through some of their biggest problems, and Emma knew that her journey would require the same of her.

Dropping her arm with a

hmph

, Emma looked out at the dense, color-stained clouds above the turquoise tide. Each day, she worked noon to sunset. For two weeks she’d rotated around the ship, learning things about each job from the most skilled sailors she’d ever met. She’d even followed Mr. Smee for an afternoon to see what his duties entailed, but from what she gathered they mainly consisted of kissing Hook’s ass at every opportunity.

By the end of those two weeks, the only job she hadn’t learned was that of their captain, though she was sure that was by design. Hook had admitted - slightly begrudgingly, to Emma’s satisfaction - that she’d learned a lot during her time aboard, enough to become a permanent floater. Each day when she came up from her room, she was pulled away by a different crew member who needed help with various tasks: tying down, mending sails, weaving nets, cleaning canons - she’d done it all.

Though she had helped Mrs. Cooke in the galley and Mr. Lansing with the cargo down below, she much preferred working above deck. The breeze in her hair, the briny smell of the ocean, the kiss of the sun on her braided hair granted her a freedom that she’d never had. Life in the palace didn’t allow independence like this - to spend hours in the open air without vigilant guards watching her every move, to make decisions for herself without the pernicious gossip of a voyeuristic court, to simply be herself without fear of exposing her weaknesses to evil forces that sought to destroy her family. Not a day went by where Emma didn’t appreciate this little bit of freedom.

But while Emma thanked the gods for her small fortune, a lurking wariness began to invade her mind. In the weeks she’d been on board, she’d not felt a flicker of her magic. No matter how far she peered down, down into the darkest depths of her power, there was only crushing silence where she’d always found violent, raw energy. She’d never felt such emptiness, and in all her lessons, she’d never learned what this could mean. She spent countless hours as she toiled away trying to figure it out: her parents’ deaths, the loss of her kingdom, her emotional instability. She couldn’t decide, though all seemed likely options. A small part of her wished that her missing powers would stay that way, if only to make everyone’s lives easier - and safer.

Three loud

clangs

pealed through the thick air, and Emma glanced over her shoulder. Groggy from the heat and sun, the crew slowly finished off their chores and headed to the galley for dinner. Each night, the entire crew ate together and enjoyed a common activity - the most popular was usually cards or dice. Emma’s favorite nights, however, were when Mrs. Cooke would captivate them with a tale from the Jolly’s long history. Though most sailors had witnessed these tales, no one interrupted Cooke or added to her narrative, save for Hook, who sat beside her and added additional context or clarification as needed.

She couldn’t help but to think back to the lessons she’d received as a child, learning long lost traditions of her kingdom. Her favorite had always been Storytellers. Storytellers were the ultimate authority on history, keepers of the truth and the past. Though Emma had never encountered someone who she considered a traditional Storyteller, she certainly felt as though Cooke fit the bill and these tales were her own source of magic. After each adventure Cooke recounted to the crew, they’d all left the stuffy galley and wandered aimlessly to their hammocks or posts, entranced by her words. She still wasn’t used to the sense of wonder that gripped her each time the stories would end.

It was during one of those nights that had Emma found her favorite part of being on the ship. While everyone else had slipped away to bed, the relentless humidity drove her back onto the deck with the sparse last dogs. Her desperation for a whisper of cool air was quickly forgotten as she’d stepped out of the hatch and onto the worn wooden planks, eyes unable to turn from the starry sky above.

Emma had never seen such stars. The crystal clear sky allowed her to see each one, a glittering diamond against an endless pool of black. The constellations she’d always known held galaxies she never knew existed, their small lights packed so densely she could have sworn they’d changed from white to blue and purple and the slightest hint of green. That night, Emma sat on the stairs of the quarterdeck for hours, studying the sky and pondering her small place beneath it, and had spent nearly every clear night since doing the same.

As the sun finally slipped below the horizon, Emma turned and made her way to the bustling galley, quietly wishing that her parents were still somewhere beneath that same endless, star-flecked sky.
 
***
 
The sound of four metal taps on the door of her cabin dragged Emma from her bed. It had taken her hours to fall asleep. The thunder of a nearby hurricane echoed across the sea, bringing with it near-suffocating humidity which rendered comfort impossible. Wiping her eyes, she knew the last thing she needed right now was an early morning audience with the One-Handed Wonder. He was no doubt standing outside the door, a smirk plastered across his face and a sarcastic remark at the ready. As she opened the door, she was proven right.

“What?” She didn’t bother sounding pleasant - she certainly didn’t feel pleasant. In fact, she had a large chunk of hair plastered to her sweaty cheek, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

“Good morning, Swan.” Amusement sparkled in Hook’s sapphire blue eyes. “A vision, as always.”

Emma scoffed and closed the door slightly, ready to slam it in his face at the next opportunity. “This better be good.”

“Aye, love,” he replied, his smile growing with Emma’s annoyance. “I’m afraid the hurricane has taken a turn and it’s headed straight for us. The crew will be busy today with preparations, but we hope to make it into an asylum before we get hit.”

“I can get dressed and be on deck in-”

“No.” The quiet authority in Hook’s voice made her pause. “You’ve done well during your brief tenure, Swan, but these things are best left to more experienced sailors. One mistake today and we can perilously damage the sails, or even the masts. I’m relieving you of your regular duties for today.”

His lack of confidence in her skills made her bristle, but she understood - the Jolly Roger was his pride and joy. And she was still just a princess, completely out of her element.

“So you want me to stay in here all day?”

Hook’s dark, unruly brows furrowed. “What use would you be locked away down here all day? I thought you might enjoy learning the most important job on the ship - mine.”

“Let me get this straight,” Emma started, leaning against the door frame and crossing her arms, suddenly acutely aware of her thin nightclothes. “You want

me

to spend the day with

you.

”

“Aye,” he nodded, watching as she pointed dramatically between them.

“Why?”

“You don’t enjoy my company?”

Emma narrowed her eyes at him and remained silent, refusing to take the bait.

“Fine,” Hook sighed. “I thought you might appreciate some companionship, but I won’t force you. I’ll be back in one hour if you decide to join me.”

She watched from her perch as he turned with a genuine smile and walked away. Pushing herself off the door frame, she kicked the door shut with a bare foot and plopped back onto the bed.

She couldn’t decide why Hook’s kindness bothered her, but more than that, she didn’t know what to call him. Captor or savior, enemy or friend - the lines were becoming more blurred by the day. Each friendly game of cards, each invitation to sit next to him at dinner made it easier to like him. The fairness with which he treated his crew made it easy to convince herself that he was trustworthy.

So perhaps he wasn’t an enemy, she decided. An enemy wouldn’t allow her the choice of how she spent her days, or bother to empathize with her. An enemy would have put her right back in the brig the moment she’d stepped foot on the ship and never let her see the light of day again. She guessed that landed them squarely in friend territory.

Thunder boomed in the distance, echoing ominously off the churning waters below. Emma watched the clouds as they swirled in the sky outside her window and sighed. She’d never been on a ship in a storm, and she certainly had never hoped to have the experience. But, she supposed, desperate times called for desperate measures, and if she was to stay here, she should learn how to prepare a ship for such an event. What better way to learn than from the captain himself?

With a grunt, Emma heaved herself off the bunk and padded to the small chest of drawers in the corner. She opted again for the sleeveless top with her dark bodice and braided her hair tightly. The wind whistled, lightly rattling her porthole. If the worsening gale outside was any indication, she thought, she was in for a wild ride.

Plucking an apple from the swinging net attached to the ceiling, Emma nibbled as fat rain droplets began to slide down the window. Perhaps staying down here wouldn’t have been such a horrible thing, if spending the day soaking wet was her only alternative. She’d almost convinced herself to decline Hook’s invitation, but the threat of relentless boredom won her over. She tossed the apple core into a rubbish bin by the desk, and walked to the door.

Without warning, the ship lurched, sending Emma stumbling into the wall with a yelp as she desperately tried to find purchase along the smooth wood. Shouts of alarm reached her from above as loose items crashed to the floor around her.

Another wave crashed into the side of the ship and wood groaned far below her feet. Emma was forced to her knees, her new-found sea legs rendered useless. Debris from the floor began flying, and to her horror, her magic instinctively lashed out. A shimmering barrier surrounded her, warping her vision of the room around her. Emma stared in disbelief as the desk chair tumbled across the room and hit the shield with a muffled

crack

.

Her magic - which hadn’t so much as whispered in the last few weeks - was back, no more than a snake coiled in the brush ready to strike. Fear gripped her, her stomach dropped through the floor. The ship was struck again, a loud

boom

reverberating through her bones.

Breathe,

she told herself.

Breathe. Don’t let the fear consume you.

She gulped down air, trying to force it into her lungs. Her shield crumbled, the wall of air dissipating as she tried to calm herself. If she lost control on the ship, there was no telling what kind of damage her magic could do.

“

Swan!”

Hook burst through the door, leather coat dripping onto the planks as his panicked eyes found hers.

“Swan!” He ran into the room and dropped to his knees before her, searching her face and arms. “Are you hurt?”

“No, I don’t think so,” she rasped, her voice raw.

Hook gave her a final once-over and nodded. He grabbed her hand, his skin surprisingly warm, and pulled her to her feet. “The storm’s moving faster than we thought and we could use an extra pair of hands to secure the ship if you’re up for it.”

Emma didn’t let go of his hand as he led her out of her cabin. Her magic roiled deep in her body, her power a churning chasm as rough as the seas around them. Emotion had always made her powers uncontrollable, but nothing snapped the leash so violently as fear. She tried to conceal the shaking in her fingers, hoping Hook wouldn’t notice.

Letting go of her, he gestured for Emma to climb the stairway to the deck. She stared at the ladder but didn’t quite see it, unable to move as cold rain from above splattered against her face, sliding down her shoulders and settling into her corset. Hook placed a hand on the side of her neck and turned her to look into his eyes.

“Emma.”

She’d never heard him say her name before, she realized, and something in the way he said it snapped her back to reality. Warmth bloomed in her chest and the fear clenching her heart loosened its grip.

“Emma, listen to me. It’s alright, love. Almost every man aboard this vessel has a century’s worth of experience. Nothing bad will happen to you. I promise.”

The sincerity in his eyes dulled the sharp edges of her panic, and she nodded firmly.

“Thank you,” she whispered. Fat rain droplets clinging to the hair plastered on his forehead caught her eye as they stood there, watching each other. The heat of his hand crept from her neck to her face as his thumb gently grazed her cheek, his cold ring soothing the blush left in its wake. She watched his dark lashes as his gaze darted from her eyes to her mouth, water dripping from his hair as his head dipped toward hers.

Her magic bleated and she gasped as her stomach turned, startling Hook from whatever spell had bound him. His eyes grew wide as they returned to her own and he dropped his hand, opening his mouth in disbelief. Before he could speak, Emma quickly turned and climbed the ladder.

Breathe.

Emma’s head spun, and she knew it didn’t have anything to do with the violent sway of the Jolly Roger beneath her feet.

What just happened?

Did Hook really try to kiss her? Or did she imagine the whole thing? Both options seemed hard to explain. They were sworn enemies not three months ago, for the gods’ sakes. Nothing about this seemed rational to her.

Yet...the last few weeks, they had become friends - or something resembling friends. They’d enjoyed each others’ company more frequently, but that didn’t make them romantic. She wasn’t even sure that she liked him in that way.

Above deck, Emma whirled around, taking in the scene before her. Sailors shouted at each other above the crashing of the surf against the ship. Icy water sprayed her from the sides and freezing rain fell hard from above. Thunder cracked across the waves after blinding streaks of lightning, carried on winds that lashed every surface of the ship. She moved toward the railing with outstretched hands, slipping on the wet planks. Emma squinted, raising a hand to shield her eyes from the deluge to find their heading.

At the edge of the visible horizon directly ahead was an island. The crescent-shaped isle was hillier than the others she’d seen in the last weeks, with more trees and foliage. It seemed like there would even be a fresh water supply there, judging by the density of the greenery. Most importantly, the tips of the island created a protected harbor, no doubt the asylum Hook had mentioned earlier. She silently prayed that they would make it in time.

Behind her, Hook’s voice boomed as he shouted orders over the din, though it seemed to Emma that nearly every man here didn’t need to be told what to do. They all acted as though they’d done the same thing a thousand times, and it struck her that they likely had.

He had been right - she’d be no help here. Experience was a necessity for this situation. Still gripping the railing tightly, she turned and searched for him. Maybe if she stayed back with him, she wouldn’t get in the way of the crew.

She found his leather coat flapping in the wind behind the spoked wheel, his face grim as he watched the crew and glanced at the island in the distance.

Shouting broke out to her right as she struggled to make her way to the helm, but she kept her head down and focused on trying not to blow over.

“

Secure that line, Sullivan! We can’t lose that sail!”

One foot in front of the other. Emma was nearly to the stairs now, relief started to flood her veins.

“SHIT!”

That can’t be good

, she thought.

“HIT THE DECK!”

Emma heard a snap of metal as she watched a cleat tear clean off the ship ten feet from her. Rope whizzed free of the metal anchor, sending the cleat spinning, and Emma didn’t have time to duck before it lashed and struck her hard in the face.

She was knocked off her feet as pain bloomed just below her left cheekbone. An inch or two higher and she’d have lost an eye. Her magic rose in her throat and stung like bile.

Warmth spread on her cold cheek as she pressed a hand to her face.

Deep breaths, Emma.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

She lowered her bloody hand and stood, willing strength to her legs. Lightning flashed and sailors continued to clamor around her as she hauled herself up the stairs to the quarterdeck, accepting a steadying hand from McHanna.

“Alright there, Miss Swan?”

Emma nodded, not trusting herself to speak. He dropped her hand and returned to the wheel to relieve Hook, who looked as though he was trying to win a wrestling match.

“Some jobs are better done with two hands,” he muttered, his voice barely audible. “Are you okay?”

She turned her head toward him and saw him study her face, but he quickly averted her gaze when she tried to meet his eyes. She could have sworn embarrassment flashed across his face.

“I’m fine.”

From up here, she could truly see the chaos below. Sullivan had managed to wrangle the loose line that had snapped free and was now trying to tie down anywhere he could find. The sails above them whipped in the wind and threatened to rip with each strong gust.

“Can the sails really make it?” Emma asked loudly.

“Aye,” Hook huffed, avoiding her eyes. “The wind’s at our backs, so our best bet is to let it carry us to the island ahead. If we haul canvas right now, we won’t make it in time. It’s worth the risk.”

Emma nodded, and opened her mouth to ask another question but didn’t get the chance as a large wave poured over the side of the ship, threatening to wash away the crew on the lower deck.

“STEADY, MEN!”

Hook bellowed, struggling to hold his footing.

“WE’RE ALMOST THERE!”

The ship jolted again and Emma stumbled. A ringed hand grabbed her arm before she tumbled, and she nodded her thanks to Hook as she righted herself and returned her attention to the crew below.

If the deck was slick before, she knew it must’ve been near-impossible to stand now. Thick clumps of seaweed tangled with the lines, adding more difficulty to the crew’s labors. Men struggled to keep their footing, but none dared to stop.

“BRACE YOURSELVES! IMPACT TO PORT!”

She recognized Johnny’s voice as his warning rang out above the deck, but she didn’t watch him scramble down the crow’s nest ladder as she spied what he’d been shouting about.

To their left, a massive, dark wave formed a few hundred yards from the ship, headed directly for them.

The first wave had nearly washed away every man below the quarterdeck. This one was already thrice it’s size, and growing by the second.

Emma’s panic nearly choked her. She couldn’t breathe.

That swell would wash over the entire ship, and take every last one of them with it. She would die a horrible, watery death right now, and doom her kingdom.

Her fingertips felt alive, buzzing and sparking with electricity.

“Swan,” Hook warned, eyes wide as he beheld her hands.

She couldn’t swallow, couldn’t think as the crest rushed closer.

Forty yards, thirty yards.

She could already feel the spray of the wave on her face.

“Swan.

Swan!

Hold onto something!” Fear crept into his voice, but he didn’t touch her. The crackling electricity in her fingers climbed her arms and licked down her spine.

Twenty yards, fifteen yards.

Emma choked out a sob, unable to move.

Ten yards.

The ship began to tilt, shouts rose from below.

“

SWAN!”

Five yards.

Emma exploded.

The Jolly tilted, and a massive surge of blinding light burst from Emma’s hands, the force of it throwing her back. Screams of terror echoed around her, followed by a sharp crack, a horrifying groan, and a loud smash.

Water tumbled over the side of the ship, and Emma was swept away. Saltwater stung her throat, her eyes, as she frantically searched for a handhold. A line floated into view, and she grabbed it, her grip so tight her nails cracked against the thick rope. She prayed that it was secured to something.

Her feet hit the side of the ship with a thud, and she closed her eyes, winding the rope around her arm.

Please don’t fall off please don’t fall off please don’t fall off

Water continued to wash over her, fast and hard, threatening to tear her away from the ship.

And then it was gone.

Emma took a massive breath and wiped at her face. She pushed herself up onto her hands and knees, coughing up lung-fulls of water.

Her hair had ripped free of its braid, and it clung to her in clumps. She tried to push it off her face, but it flopped back down, too wet to stay put.

Details began to flood back in, one by one.

Yelling resumed below, more panicked than before.

She’d been washed across the quarterdeck and saved by a loose rope from gods knew where.

She couldn’t find McHanna. Had he been washed away?

Her eyes landed on Hook, who had a gash on the side of his neck, but was already on his feet angrily shouting orders.

A sharp pain in her ankle overwhelmed the stinging cut on her face, but as she looked up, she forgot about her injuries. She forgot about anything at all as she beheld what had happened.

Horror replaced that now-empty roiling well of power from before.

The main mast hung limp against the hull, secured only by the rigging, snapped in half by the blast of her magic.

She had doomed them all.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Fool.

What a stupid, sentimental fool.

Hook toed off his boots and snatched them up from the damp sand, a near growl escaping his lips as he shook saltwater from them.

The crew still scurried about, shouting around him as they tended to the ship.

He’d been captain for longer than he cared to remember, and he’d never suffered damages like these. The mast had snapped clean in half and was hopelessly tangled with the rigging. The hull on the starboard side had a large gash that the crew were working frantically to patch. The rain would flood the inside of the ship if they didn’t at least get a tarp over it in the next few minutes. The damage hadn’t initially been so bad, but in the length of time it took to drift toward the island without their main mast, the violent winds had turned the broken wood into nothing more than a bloody battering ram against the hull.

All fixable things, Hook reminded himself as he took a deep breath.

Yes, what’s indeed worse was that three crew had been injured, including the bosun. Collectively, they’d suffered a badly broken leg, four cracked ribs, and a head injury that would all take weeks to heal. His crew - his

family

- had been in danger, and all he could do was gawk and hold on for dear life.

Killian scanned the beach, taking inventory of his surroundings. The rain was still coming down too hard to spy any fresh water streams beyond the treeline, but the mountains surrounding the bay were protecting them from the worst of the wind. Several men were already setting up shelter along the beach, far enough from the water that a sudden storm surge wouldn’t drown them while they slept tonight.

Aboard the ship, sails had been hastily taken down to be dried once the worst of the storm passed and a group was working to saw the ropes off the mast as quickly as possible. Soon they’d begin ferrying casks of water, crates of food, and additional supplies to the beach to set up camp while the new mast was in progress, which would take a week or more to finish once they actually felled a decent tree.

As Killian surveyed the progress of the crew, his eyes slid to the opposite end of the beach, to where Emma Swan sat alone in the sand. Her knees were drawn to her chest, and even from a distance, he could see her shaking. From fear, from the cold, he didn’t know. He didn’t even care.

All of this was her fault.

He had been a fool.

How could he think that an untrained magic wielder could ever stay on the Jolly? He promised to take care of her, to

help

her, and this was his thanks? She had deceived him into thinking she wasn’t a threat, and when they were the most vulnerable, she had struck hard. But why?

Killian’s seething anger slowly turned to blinding rage as he watched her. Was she even sorry? Did she even realize that she could have killed them all with her outburst?

She might have, a small voice told him. She might even be drowning in guilt right now.

But she still should have restrained herself! She shouldn’t have even come on deck if she thought this might happen. Surely she felt the instability within herself. Why hadn’t she said something? Excused herself?

Sheer irresponsibility had caused this. What else should he have expected from a princess?

Maybe he should have locked her in the brig again. He’d given her too much freedom. She’d given him a few small smiles and he’d allowed her to roam freely on his ship. She’d taken advantage of his kindness.

How could he think they were friends?

Killian thought over all the time they’d spent together in the last weeks. He thought of every friendly dinner they’d shared, the genuine interest in Cooke’s stories -

his

stories. He thought of the determination she showed while she’d worked alongside his men. Had he confused these all as signs of her good intentions? She’d done a wonderful job of making everyone forget who she was, where she came from. After all, who would suspect a princess, much less a queen, to work as she had? He should have known her ability to blend in so well was dangerous, should have recognized it as a grand manipulation.

How could he try to

kiss

her?

Killian was ashamed to admit that he still didn’t know what had come over him. She’d just looked so scared - no,

terrified

-  that he’d wanted to offer her any comfort or reassurance that he could. He couldn’t explain why he felt such a need to protect this woman. He wished he could, if only so that he could stop.

Taking steadying breaths, he stuffed his feet back into his soggy leather boots and groaned. It would take days for the boots to properly dry, and the blisters -

A horrible thought struck him.

Had she planned for this?

Surely…surely she hadn’t.

But why wouldn’t she?

A year ago, he’d kidnapped her. He’d snatched her from the safety of her own kingdom. He’d intended to sell her with no regard for her life to her murderous grandfather. How could she not want vengeance? She had simply been biding her time until the opportune moment. She’d been all too happy to agree when he offered to help search for her parents in the Remote Isles. What better time than a hurricane, where any wreckage of the ship would no doubt be blamed on the storm and not her?

He was so blind. Of course this was revenge. She had planned this impeccably.

He was stomping toward her before he knew what he was doing.

As he closed in, she lifted her head, her red-rimmed eyes wide with genuine fear and something else he didn’t bother to identify. She scrambled to her feet and stepped toward him.

“Hook, I am so, so sorry,” she sobbed, tears mixing with the rain on her cheeks. “Please, I can explain-”

“How dare you!”

“Please, I didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt, I -”

“How

dare

you!” Killian felt his hands fist as his sides, and she took a step back, her normally confident stance replaced by a slight inward curve of her shoulders. “How could you ever do something so stupid? After all I’ve done for you, you think that blowing up my ship and injuring my men can be forgiven by a bloody apology?”

Hurt and anger flashed in Emma’s eyes. “No, I just -”

“There’s nothing in this realm you could say that could justify what you have done,” he snarled, gesturing at the ship and crew behind him. “Look at what you have caused!”

“I couldn’t help it,” she cried. “I was scared and hurt and-”

“Yes, and now a lot of other people are scared and hurt because of you.” He laughed darkly and shook his head. “But you didn’t think about that, did you? No, you only thought about yourself. You’re all the same. You royals don’t care what happens to the rest of us, as long as you’re getting your way. Maybe this is my fault, too. I should never have trusted you.”

“What does this have to do with that?”

“

Everything!”

Killian heard the fury, the violence in his voice, but drove on. “You lot destroy everything you bloody touch! You destroy lives every day without realizing the consequences of your own actions and decisions, without ever stopping to think how you affect others!”

“I’m not like that,” Emma snapped defensively, her jaw setting.

“No? I find that hard to believe coming from the granddaughter of the man who killed my brother for his own petty conflicts.”

There. There it was. The thing that had bothered him the most about her. He’d let himself believe that she was different, that perhaps she wasn’t as corrupt as her family, but all that had been a lie, a deception so that she could try to destroy everything left that he held dear when he was most exposed.

Emma reeled back, genuine pain flashing in her eyes.

Killian pressed on, ready to strike the killing blow. “Your lack of control today nearly killed the only family I have left thanks to your own, so excuse me,

princess

, if I don’t forgive that transgression easily. You’re nothing more than the spoiled disappointment of a girl your court whispers about, and I wish to the gods that I’d dumped you back onto the bloody dock that night for the rebels.”

He hated the words as soon as they left his mouth.

Thunder cracked overhead. The pain on Emma’s face turned razor-sharp, but she stood there silently, waiting for him to continue. As if she was willing to stand there and take it.

For a long moment all he heard was the roaring in his own ears and the rain pounding on the sea.

When he didn’t continue, she nodded slowly, turned away from him, and stalked into the dense jungle.
 
***

Night came and went, but Emma didn’t return to camp. The hurricane passed in the early hours of the morning, allowing the crew to sleep comfortably most of the night. Killian had always loved the cooler air and the calm skies after a violent storm passed, but today he hardly noticed them.

Today, Killian Jones was full of regret.

The hateful words he’d spat at Emma swam around in his head, hounding him relentlessly. He’d tossed and turned for hours before abandoning sleep entirely, and he snuck off to the edge of the trees where the princess had disappeared hours before, waiting for her to return. He’d been here ever since.

He didn’t know what he would even say to her when she did.

“Good mornin’,” a voice said behind him. Killian turned but avoided Mrs. Cooke’s gaze, knowing what he would find there. “Brought you some breakfast. Smee said you’ve been sittin’ out here like a kicked dog all night.”

“Aye,” Killian nodded his thanks and accepted two pouches of boiled eggs and a hunk of warm bread each from her outstretched hand before she sat down with a grunt. He knew who the second was meant for, but didn’t dare acknowledge it yet. “How’s the bosun?”

“Ah, he’ll live I suspect. A bit confused today from the pain. We’ll need to find someone to take over his duties once we get the old girl sailin’ again. That leg will take at least a month and a half to heal.”

Hook nodded, a bit of tension easing in his chest.

They sat in silence as he ate, watching the gentle breeze rustle the palms around them. Finally, Mrs. Cooke spoke again.

“Do you want to go, or should I?”

Killian sighed. “This usually goes much faster when you talk first.”

“Indeed it does,” Cooke laughed drily. “Well, out with it. How bad is it?”

He still carefully avoided her eyes, idly peeling his last egg. “You’ve seen me do horrible things to people for many years. But the way I acted yesterday...you would have been ashamed. I called her horrible things. And I - well, I told her I should have left her to the thugs the day she turned up. In the moment, I meant it, but…” Killian finally looked at her. “I know what they would have done to her, and I would never wish that upon anyone. But I did, and I’m afraid that’s unforgivable.”

“You’re likely right about that,” Cooke agreed. “But I understand why you’d get your knickers in a twist.”

He furrowed his brows in confusion. “You do?”

“Aye. You feel betrayed. You feel what she did was from malice and that she meant to destroy your life as some sort of vengeance, yes?”

“The thought crossed my mind,” he admitted.

“Then this would be the most wrong you’ve ever been, Killian Jones.”

Killian’s eyes widened, a retort on the tip of his tongue, but he said nothing. He knew Cooke would continue no matter what he said. This was a punishment he would have to endure.

“Not everyone in this world is obsessed with revenge, boy. There’s not a mean bone in that poor girl’s body. Stubborn as a mule and generally cranky, to be sure. But she didn’t mean for this to happen.”

His chest felt like it imploded. Of course she hadn’t. Killian had judged her too quickly, gotten caught up in the heat of the moment. He’d projected his own misery onto her in an attempt to justify what he didn’t understand.

“You’re right.”

There was a stunned silence, followed by bellowing laughter. “I love hearin’ that, ‘specially from you.” She quieted down and gave Killian a sincere look. “Why does this feel so personal to you, boy? Is there somethin’ you’re not sayin’?”

He didn’t know what she wanted to hear. For years, she’d done her best to soothe his angry soul, tried to make him understand that every slight wasn’t cause for a new quest for vengeance. But despite her words, he’d never truly cared to change his ways. He’d never cared who he hurt. But seeing the genuine pain on Emma’s face yesterday when he’d said those things...he was beginning to see her point.
He decided that perhaps the time had come to be stronger than any of the excuses he'd used until then.
Perhaps it was time for a change.

Killian took a deep breath. “I tried to kiss her yesterday. Before we came up on deck. I don’t know why I did it. I just felt...

something

. I can’t explain it.”

He didn’t even know how to describe it, that strange tug he felt toward Emma.

If Cooke was shocked, she hid it well. “Do you have feelin’s for Miss Swan?”

“I don’t know,” Killian exhaled, eyes glued to the sand. “Well, I do. Aye. I do. I just can’t bloody understand it.”

“We hardly ever do,” Cooke said quietly. “We always feel most betrayed by those we hold most dear. But if you have feelin’s for the lady -”

Killian coughed pointedly, desperate to stop this conversation.

Cooke narrowed her eyes at the interruption, but continued. “Then I suggest you put your ego aside and accept this for what it is: an unfortunate accident.”

“She destroyed the Jolly,” Killian reminded her. “It’s hard to write that off as a mistake.”

“So she’ll help fix it!” Cooke got to her feet. “What she did wasn’t a small inconvenience, but I guarantee ya, it wasn’t done to hurt no one. I’d suggest you find that poor girl before she starves out there or worse.”

“What if she won’t forgive me?”

Killian hated himself for the vulnerability of the question, the emotion it exposed.

He could hear the understanding in Cooke’s voice as she replied, “Something tells me she will.”

Her footsteps faded before Killian’s eyes lifted from the sand back to the forest. Watery light had begun to fill the trees, revealing the damp floor beneath the dense canopy. Sighing, he stood and brushed the sand from his hand as he walked to the boundary of the jungle on shaky knees.

He blew out a breath and closed his eyes. Here he was, the most feared pirate on the seas, afraid to find a woman and apologize to her.

Almost as bloody ridiculous as a pirate who falls in love with a princess,

he thought bitterly. He’d sworn to hate the princess, had deemed her worth nothing more than a

thing

to be sold to a murderous king only a year ago. But now…

There was a delicate line between love and hate. As Killian opened his eyes, he took a step forward, over the border into the trees.
 
***
 
The air grew thicker as he moved farther from the beach, the smell of damp soil filling his nose. He searched fruitlessly for signs of Emma, but the daughter of the bandit-huntress Snow White was too good to leave obvious trails for him to follow.

He’d been a bloody ass yesterday. Not only had he raised his voice at a woman, but he’d not even given her the chance to defend herself against his allegations. He felt shame for not even allowing the lady to speak. It had been tremendously bad form.

For weeks now, he’d seen Emma work and live amongst his crew day in and day out, and she fit in well. Her ease with the men, her natural chemistry with all on board was more than proof that she wasn’t just some stuffy royal. So why had that been the first thing to throw in her face yesterday? Killian knew he didn’t understand her magic, and from that ignorance stemmed fear. It had clutched him so thoroughly yesterday that he’d lashed out in any way he knew how, and her bloodline was an easy target.

But how could they work through her magic? Could he even help her? He’d known magic wielders before, but none with such raw power like Emma. They were never inclined to share their knowledge of the craft with him, either. He knew very little of how it worked, beyond a grim understanding that magic always came with a price. Perhaps Emma’s was this - having to live in a world that ostracized and belittled her at every mistake. Killian’s cheeks heated at the thought that he’d lent to that burden.

Birds chirped merrily in the canopy above as Killian hiked along a freshwater stream and followed it deeper still into the trees. He’d long since shrugged off his heavy leather coat and folded it into his satchel. No one could hide without water, he reasoned as he refilled his canteen, so she had to be close.

What would he even say to her when he did find her?

“Hello Swan, sorry I was an ass and wished horrible, unspeakable things upon you. Would you mind coming back to help fix the ship now?”

He doubted that would go well.

No, he had to think of something better. He had a feeling that she wouldn’t easily forgive him for the things he said. He’d called her a disappointment, belittled her...gods above, he’d basically blamed her for Liam’s death on top of it all. She didn’t even know the story, hadn’t even been born when that happened. She probably didn’t even care to know.

That’s perhaps what scared Killian the most, he realized as he trudged  a patch of particularly thick mud. Would Emma Swan even care about him? He hardly knew the lass, but he couldn’t deny the connection between them. Surely that couldn’t be just him. But yesterday, when he’d been swept up in the moment and tried to kiss her, she’d panicked and run away. He couldn’t even begin to explain his own feelings, but she’d made hers clear. It would be best to keep his feelings to himself, he decided.

For nearly an hour, Killian thought of everything he should say - every apology he should give, every friendly word, every promise to make amends. But he couldn’t remember a single one as he rounded a bend and found Emma, resting against a tree not twenty paces from the gently gurgling spring.

His heart bleated in panic, and he took a step back. His foot squelched loudly in the mud behind him, and her head shot up, her eyes instantly finding him.

He didn’t know what to say, how to start. He was almost sure she could hear the thunderous beating of his heart above the stream. For a long moment, he just stood and took her in with wide eyes. The usual glint of humor in her eyes had been dulled, replaced by a look of hopelessness that hit Killian like a blow to the gut. Though she sat alert, her posture was still wrong, still diffident. She was cradling her hands in her lap, but they began to slowly curl into fists at the sight of him. The only hint of color on her skin was her puffy eyes and the tip of her nose, both pink and splotchy against her pale face. If it was possible to die of remorse, Killian might have right then.

“What.”

Her flat tone shook him from his stupor. He cleared his throat, unable to help his furious blinking. “I...came to find you?”

“Is that a question?”

“No?” What in gods’ realms was happening to him?

Just speak, damned fool.

With a slightly steadier voice, he corrected himself. “I mean, I came to find you.”

“For what? To continue flinging insults at me?”

“No,” Killian whispered, taking a few cautious steps toward her. She watched him the entire way as he lowered himself onto the grass beside her, careful not to get too close. “I came to say I’m sorry.”

She narrowed her eyes at him.

Right. A whole apology, then.

“I should never have said such horrible things to you, Swan. I never truly meant anything I said.”

“You wouldn’t have said them if you didn’t mean it in some way,” she grumbled.

“I admit, in the moment I thought some unkind things.” He hesitated, searching her face for any sign of emotion beyond the emptiness in her eyes. “I reacted out of fear and ignorance, and my words echoed that. I’d like to think it reflects poorly on who I really am, but I see now that perhaps I’ve become a man I’m not entirely proud of. I realize that now, and I see that maybe I was seeing the situation through a harshly tinted lense. I apologize for my behavior, and I hope you’ll allow me the chance to show you a better side of me.”

Killian counted the seconds as they passed in the silence that stretched between them. His offer was genuine - it was time for him to become a better man, to let go of the past and move on. He’d played the villain too long. For Liam, for Emma, for himself, he could change.

“That’s a pretty speech for a pirate.” Emma’s voice was still cold, but a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth and her eyes seemed to sparkle a bit.

“Well, a true pirate knows the value of words can often be higher than that of gold.”

“Does he now?”

He smiled, raising an eyebrow. “A princess should know the power of politics and pretty speeches.”

The light in her eye seemed to die again. “A

real

princess should know a lot of things that I seem not to.”

“Ah,” he sighed, scooting closer to lean back against the tree. “About the magic -”

“My parents never wanted me to learn to use it,” she blurted, pinching her eyes closed for a long moment. “I think they were afraid that if I learned how to use magic, that I could be corrupted by it.”

Killian paused. “Did they have any reason to believe that could be true?”

“Maybe. They never told me outright, but I’ve heard things, when they thought I wasn’t around. There’s kind of a prophecy.”

He sat silently, allowing her to choose whether to continue. Eventually, she took a deep breath and continued.

“A unicorn showed my parents a prophecy, only they both saw different things. My father saw a beautiful daughter who would turn out to be me, but my mother…” She swallowed and tucked a frizzy lock behind her ear. “My mother saw me rip out her heart and crush it. Like the Evil Queen does to people. So when I started to show signs of magic as a child, my parents were uneasy. They brought in fairies to teach me to hide my power, to leash it. But never to wield it. They tried to teach me to light a candle once, and I burned down an entire room. After that, we had to try to hide the power from the court to keep tensions down. Sometimes, it just wells up inside of me and I lose control. It mostly happens when I’m scared, or angry. That’s what happened on the ship. I never meant to hurt anyone. But the magic... It’s stronger than me.”

Her shoulders slumped at the admission, her hair falling back into her face, but Killian could see relief in her eyes. How long had she been hiding that truth, afraid to tell even her family? Understanding washed over him. He’d assumed she was a spoiled princess when in reality she was a scared girl who had never been allowed to be herself.

“Well,” he sighed, turning to face her. “I don’t believe that anything or anyone could be as strong as you.”

She looked up at him through thick eyelashes. “Is this flattery?”

Killian breathed a laugh. “No. Statement of fact.”

“Sure,” she said suspiciously, but she lifted her face to meet his.

“I mean it. I won’t pretend to know much about magic, especially the light variety, but if you think it could help, maybe we can try to find you a teacher.”

“I don’t think many magic tutors live on deserted islands,” she quipped.

“Aye, I’ll agree with you there, love. But I’m sure there are other places to find one.”

She didn’t look convinced, but her overall demeanor had changed. A bit of light and humor had returned, along with her normal ease. It was good enough for now.

His voice was quiet, tentative, as he asked, “Friends?”

Emma looked at him for a beat, her expression unreadable as she considered.

“Friends.”

Killian’s heart skipped a beat, and he gave her a broad smile. “Good. Now that we’re friends and all, I’ve brought you breakfast.”

Her eyes widened incredulously. “Were you holding food hostage in exchange for friendship?”

“Would it be entirely out of character?” An awkward moment passed between them as he rummaged through his satchel for the neatly wrapped meal.

Why would you say that, you bloody idiot?

Emma laughed halfheartedly. “I suppose not.”

“Here,” he offered, extending the sack to her. As she reached out to grab it, she noticed angry red welts and scrapes across both of her palms. They didn’t look bloody, but he could tell they were painful. “What happened to your hands, love?”

“Oh.” She held up her right hand for him to see. “Rope burn. I grabbed a line yesterday to keep from washing off the ship. This one got it worse.”

“May I?”

“Sure,” she shrugged, taking a large bite from her bread.

Hook took her hand in his own and studied the burn. “It needs to be washed out,” he muttered, turning her hand over. The injury snaked from the tips of her fingers to her palm and around her wrist, where it disappeared beneath the fabric of her shirt. Gently, he pushed her sleeve up and turned her arm over. Blistered skin marred her forearm where the rope had tightened around her in the water from her wrist to her elbow. “Christ, Swan. You’re lucky it wasn’t your neck.”

She made vague sounds of agreement around her food, but observed him cautiously. Venturing back into his satchel, he fished out a flask and clean bandage, then gave Emma a warning look.

“This will sting,” he said, then uncorked the bottle with his teeth and quickly doused her wounds with a generous pour of rum.

“OW!” She yelped, instinctively snatching her arm back.

“Apologies, love,” he teased. He carefully took her wrist with his hook and began covering her hand. “Wrapping your hand will keep it from hurting, but your arm needs to stay uncovered for a day or two. The humidity can cause infection easily, I’m afraid.”

“Since when did you become a doctor?” She watched him closely as she peeled her last egg.

Killian smirked at her, quirking an eyebrow. “A life at sea teaches a man many things, Swan.”

“Oh?” Her tone turned flirtatious as she finished off her breakfast and leaned back against the tree once more. “Like what?”

He finished wrapping her hand and lowered his mouth to her palm to tie the fabric with his teeth, his eyes never leaving her own. A blush crept up her neck, coloring her cheeks, and he smiled as he turned her hand over and placed a kiss on the back of her fingers. “Are you curious, Swan?”

“Maybe I am,” she drawled, trying a bit too hard to sound casual.

“Then consider me a willing teacher.” He winked at her, watching her look away shyly before standing and snagging his satchel with his hook. “Shall we?”

Emma smiled up at him and took his offered hand. “Sure thing,

friend.

”

Killian didn’t bother to conceal his answering grin.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“I think that’ll about do it,” Emma nodded firmly to herself.

A shadow crossed over her back as Johnny leaned over to survey the spike she had just beat into the ground. “Aye, looks good to me.”

Before them lay the great while sails of the Jolly, neatly tacked down for drying now that the sand was no longer drenched. The job had taken them all day, much to Emma’s dismay.

If they’re not done correctly

, McHanna had told her,

they won’t catch the wind like they’re meant to. Could be a costly mistake in an unfortunate situation.

“Great, I’m starving.” She stood and swiped the back of her arm over her sweaty forehead, hissing as red hot pain sliced up to her shoulder. Her arm was still as swollen as it was the day before when Hook had examined it, but somehow it was even more sensitive. Her hand, however, felt better. She hadn’t removed the bandage he had tied over her hand, but she wished he could have done something more for her arm. As she looked closer, it appeared that working on the sails had burst a few blisters. “Shit.”

“You’re lucky that wasn’t your neck,” Johnny grimaced, trying not to look at the mangled flesh.

“Yeah, that’s what Hook said.”

“I’m serious,” he insisted, cutting his eyes to her face. “What happened could have been a lot worse.”

“I know.”

They walked a few steps in tense silence. “Do you need to talk about it?”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Emma ground out. While it was nice to have a friend on board, she had to admit that having someone to challenge her to talk about her feelings wasn’t her favorite part of the situation. “I got overwhelmed and accidentally blew up the ship. No one died. I already feel bad enough without another lecture.”

“I know you do, I’m not here to give one.” She could feel Johnny studying her face, trying to figure out what was going on in her head, but she refused to look at him. “I’m just here to make sure you’re okay, Em.”

“I’m fine.”

Johnny hesitated. “I heard the captain was pretty harsh with you.”

“Yes,” she replied curtly.

“And you’re okay with that?”

“No.”

Her patience was wearing thin. No, she was

not

okay with the way the captain had spoken to her. The harsh words he’d spat at her like poison played on an endless loop in her mind.

Your lack of control today nearly killed the only family I have left thanks to your own.

Of course, Hook had been right about that. She’d never been able to control her powers. No matter how many lessons she’d attended, no matter how hard she’d pushed herself, she’d never been able to master the overwhelming tidal wave of magic she experienced whenever her emotions got the best of her. Perhaps it was her greatest personal failure, soon to be replaced by allowing the rebels take control of her kingdom.

You’re nothing more than the spoiled disappointment of a girl your court whispers about.

On some level, Emma knew they were nothing more than carefully crafted words meant to hurt her. She could tell when he said it that he was lying, yet somehow...that didn’t stop her from feeling it like a physical blow. The violence in his tone, the wet kohl smudged around his eyes, the mad gleam in his eyes as he berated her made her wish he’d have run her through with his sword instead.

I wish to the gods that I’d dumped you back onto the bloody dock that night for the rebels.

Of everything Killian Jones had said to her, that had been the worst. The same way she knew he was lying seconds before, she knew he meant every syllable of that wish, and she didn’t know how that made her feel about him. Every night, Emma still thought about the outlaws at the palace. She saw their grasping hands, their cruel eyes, and their salacious expressions as they tried to carry her away into the night, ripping her dress and groping her as they went. She doubted she would ever forget. Yes, his apology yesterday had been genuine. He’d meant that he wanted to change, to become a better person, but someone who would wish a horrible thing like that upon even their worst enemy…

Was he even redeemable?

“So are you going to do anything about it?” Johnny’s question was too casual to be anything but calculated. Had someone from the crew sent him to make sure she wouldn’t continue to be a threat?

“No.”

“Did you forgive him? When he came after you yesterday, I mean.”

“Not exactly.”

Leave me alone.

“I know it’s none of my business -”

“You’re right,” Emma snapped, abruptly stopping and leveling him with a challenging look. For a moment, she didn’t recognize herself. Once again, the voice of a queen had replaced her own.

Tension rippled between them and Emma lifted her chin slightly. Dismissal. Hurt flashed in Johnny’s eyes.

“Mr. Davies!”

Johnny jumped as Hook’s voice boomed behind him and he turned on his heel. “Aye, Captain?”

Hook narrowed his eyes, looking between them. Whether he sensed the tension, he didn’t let on, but Emma knew it wouldn’t escape his notice.

“Help the rest of the crew take down the tents. Tonight we’re using the hammocks and bedrolls. It’s too bloody hot to sleep inside.”

“Yes, sir.” He didn’t bother to look at Emma again before jogging back to the camp.

Alone, Hook finally took in her expression, noting the hard line of her mouth, the set of her jaw, the pinched brows. “Swan,” he greeted.

When she didn’t respond, he nodded and scratched the back of his head, then offered her a small smile.

Hook asked awkwardly, “How’s the arm?”

“If you want the honest truth, it’s a bitch.”

“Sorry to hear,” he murmured, taking a small step back. “We’ll see if we can get Mr. Lansing to look at it. He was the one who sewed you up when you arrived, actually.”

Arrived.

He made it sound so casual, as if he didn’t just admit he wished he’d have left her to die. Or worse.

“He did good work,” she offered distantly, a still-hostile edge in her tone.

Hook launched into a story about Lansing’s medical capabilities, but she hardly heard a word. How could she continue to live with someone who thought such cruel things about her? After he’d apologized, she’d just wanted him to stop talking about it. She hated the thought of having to admit to him, to

anyone

, what the rebels had tried to do to her. Changing the subject and making him believe she’d let it go was the easiest option. They’d been pleasant enough toward each other in the last day, but they’d both been so busy that they’d hardly spoken beyond him giving orders to her and the rest of the crew.

“Swan?”

Her head snapped up. He stood before her with his brows raised inquisitively. “Sorry, what?”

“I asked if you would like to join me for dinner.”

Sorry,

what?

Emma stared at him in disbelief. Last night, the crew had eaten around the fire, grouped up with their friends. Even Hook had eaten with Smee and his officers. She, however, had eaten alone, at the edge of the firelight. It’s not that she hadn’t been invited to join anyone, but she felt uncomfortable around the men. Not everyone understood that what had happened was an accident. Grumbles of discontent had rumbled through the camp at Hook allowing her to stay. “

He’s content to just let her kill us all! For what?”

At least he

was

allowing her to stay. He could very easily maroon her here on this island. Perhaps that was sign enough for his good intentions for now.

“Sure.”

Hook seemed surprised by her answer, but he nodded and offered a small smile.

They walked back to camp, neither speaking as they watched the sun set over the horizon in an explosion of vivid pinks and oranges and reds. The crew worked in teams to take down tents and put up hammocks or pass out bedrolls. It had been two days since the storm had passed, and the stifling humidity had returned with a vengeance. If Emma never again visited the tropics, it would be too soon.

“Captain!” Smee stumbled across the sand toward them, arms loaded with rolls of fabric. He stopped before them and gave Emma a bob of the head, sending his glasses to the end of his round nose. “Miss. I swiped the last hammock, Captain. I thought you might be wanting to use it tonight, if that would please you.”

“It’s bad form not to offer the lady first choice, Mr. Smee,” Hook ground out between clenched teeth.

Smee’s eyes went wide and a strangled noise escaped his mouth. “Yes, Captain! Very sorry, Captain, I just meant - I mean, I was just trying to -”

“I’ll take a bedroll,” Emma interrupted, hoping to spare herself ten more minutes of Smee’s submissive stuttering. “It’s too hot to sleep in a damned cocoon anyway.”

Hook looked at her for confirmation. She nodded at him, and he turned back to the first mate. “You heard the lady. We will both take bedrolls.”

“But -” Much like a fish in desperate need of water, Smee’s mouth opened and closed sporadically, searching for words. Eventually, he settled for “aye, sir” before handing them two bedrolls and stomping back to the center of camp.

Emma watched him for a moment, taking in every detail of the flustered tantrum he was throwing in front of the entire crew as someone tried to take the last hammock from him.

“Do you do it just to get a rise out of him?” Emma asked, a smile creeping into her voice.

Hook turned to her and smirked, “Do you deny how fun this is?”

Indeed, as she looked back at the squat first mate, his face had turned the color of a ripe tomato and his voice had started to crack from screaming the injustices of not being allowed his pick of sleeping arrangements.

“

Does ‘first mate’ mean nothing to you?!”

His shriek echoed across the beach as he chased a larger deckhand who had taken the last hammock directly from his arms. The man looked down at Smee and growled, and Emma couldn’t help but laugh as the color immediately drained from his face.

“I thought authority on the Jolly Roger would have meant more,” Emma chided.

Hook gave her a dazzling smile and gestured for her to walk with him. “The men are...well, let’s just say not fond of Mr. Smee,” he explained. “Truth is, he earned the position by indulging my less-than-noble whims over the years, not his aptitude as a sailor.”

After weeks of witnessing the crew go to extremes to either ignore or belittle their superior, the entire picture fell into place. “Oh. So he did your dirty work in exchange for a higher position?”

“Not in exchange

per se

, but yes,” Hook admitted, leading Emma to a palm tree near the fire. Stars were beginning to awaken above, one by one, setting the camp in a warm glow. “He knew he’d never earn a promotion on his merit alone, so he became invaluable in other ways. Ways that I perhaps valued too much at the time.”

His face was contemplative, and Emma could feel the truth in his words. His regret wasn’t proof enough that he could change, but she supposed it was a start.

Changing the subject, Emma asked, “So how does one ascend the ranks in an immortal pirate crew, Captain Hook?”

“My name,

princess

, is Killian. And we’re not immortal, you know,” Hook corrected as he spread out his bedroll underneath the tree. He sat down and patted the space next to him. She eyed him warily, and he winked. “I don’t bite. Unless you ask.”

Emma scoffed, but sat down and tried desperately not to smile, finding her sour mood from earlier almost completely melted away.

“In Neverland,” he began with a sigh, “time stood still. At first we were allowed to leave, to fulfill our agreement with Pan. We aged slower during those days when we split our time between this realm and the cursed island. One day, we’d had enough of the boy’s manipulations. We’d been on enough fool’s errands, enough supply runs. We made one last trip, and when we got back to Neverland, I confronted Pan. Told him this would be the last time we’d help him. He...he didn’t take it well. He trapped us there for over a hundred and fifty years. It was then that we stopped aging, but we are mortal. Pan made sure we knew that.”

His expression was haunted, as though reliving a horrible dream. She knew there was more to his story than legend told, but hearing it first hand somehow made it real. “So...how old are you,

exactly

?”

Hook’s - Killian’s - face turned unreadable as he met her gaze. “Well, if you want the grand total, somewhere around two hundred years. I must admit I’ve lost count.”

“You look good for fifty,” she smirked.

“You wound me, love,” he said, feigning offense. “Though that wretched island gave me lifetimes of experience, I thank you for noticing that I have retained my youthful glow. We were trapped in Neverland for a century and a half, but we traded there for just over two decades. I suppose if we’re going by physical age, I’m only twenty-nine or so.”

Emma looked away, trying to understand. How could he be only seven years older, but also centuries? Time, she decided, was just another kind of magic she didn’t comprehend. “How long have you been away from Neverland, then?”

“Five years, two months, and seventeen days.”

His answer was quick, and her heart fractured audibly, not only at the flat tone, but at the fact that he had counted the days of his freedom for years now. What had really happened in Neverland to make him so grateful to be away? She didn’t know why she felt such a need to know.

Footsteps approached, and Emma watched as Killian’s face instantly hardened back into a mask of careful neutrality. As quick as that, the vulnerability he had shown was gone. Which side of him was more genuine? Did

he

even know?

“Coconut soup,” Cooke informed them by way of greeting as she thrust large wooden bowls and spoons into their hands. “Everythin’ in it is the freshest we’ve ‘ad in weeks. Try not to drool into it.”

The jolly woman winked at Emma, who gave her thanks as Cooke returned to her cauldron over the crackling fire.

“Cheers, love,” Killian said before digging into his soup.

“Cheers,

mate.

”

Killian’s eyes gleamed in amusement. The sounds of their slurping were all that filled the thick night air between them as they watched the crew from a distance. Some men sang merry tunes, while some ate in quiet conversation. It would have been easy to think they were happy, Emma thought, if she didn’t see suspicious eyes slide over to her every few seconds. Few men stared in outright hatred. Most of the crew had accepted her apology this morning as she worked alongside them, but some had given half-hearted replies. Their trust in her was lost, and she didn’t know if she could ever fix it.

“They’ll come around.” Killian’s voice shook her from her thoughts, and she turned to find him watching her. How did he know what she was thinking?

“They have every reason not to. I can’t blame them for how they feel.”

“Emma,” he hesitated, and her heart leapt traitorously at the sound of her name on his lips. “Yesterday, you told me something that I know must have been hard for you to admit, especially after the way I acted toward you. I’d like to return the favor.”

Emma raised her eyebrows. Yes, the secret she’d shared with him yesterday about her family certainly hadn’t been easy to talk about, but it was the best way for her to explain that she didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt and distract him from what had truly wounded her so badly about their argument. She didn’t think it would mean that much to him.

“A truth for a truth?”

“Aye,” he nodded. “Seems a fair trade.”

Her mind whirled into gear as she tried to anticipate what he would tell her. He had two centuries worth of stories and secrets. Cooke had told a few over the last few weeks, but to hear them from Captain Hook himself would be quite the treat. Which would he pick to tell her? Her curiosity was officially piqued. “Lay it on me, then.”

A corner of Killian’s mouth pulled up slightly as Emma settled in, pulling her knees to her chest and resting her chin on top of them. But judging by the nervous bob of his neck, she could tell this wouldn’t be the grand swashbuckling tale she’d hoped for.

“Have you ever heard the story of how I ended up in Neverland, Swan?”

No, she realized, she hadn’t. She shook her head slowly, combing through her memory, but every known story of the pirate she’d read or heard had

begun

in Neverland. She didn’t actually know anything about Killian Jones before the hook. Suddenly, she doubted anyone really did.

“It’s not a happy tale, I’m afraid.” He discarded his bowl in the sand and draped his arms over his knees. A slight breeze rustled his hair and he took a steadying breath. “In my younger years, I was a lieutenant in King George’s navy. I grew up with my brother, Liam, aboard a large vessel, working as lowly deckhands after my bastard father sold us into servitude. He took care of me, taught me everything he knew. He was a good brother...and a good man. We escaped when the crew of our ship was killed in a hurricane. We were the only survivors. After that, Liam earned a commission as a captain in the King’s Navy for his heroism in trying to save the ship, and he offered me a position as his lieutenant aboard the Jewel of the Realm.”

She’d known about Liam. After all, Killian had been more than happy to spit in her face about her grandfather having some hand in his brother’s death. But it surprised Emma that Killian himself had been a naval officer. She supposed he’d had to learn the ins and outs of sailing somewhere, but she never would have guessed that a pirate as revered as him would have been enlisted.

“After some time, our crew was chosen to carry out a secret mission for the king. Liam was beside himself with joy. We were ordered to Neverland,” he gulped, his voice wobbling slightly. He cleared his throat and pressed on. “The king had heard of a magical plant that grew deep in the jungles on the island. It was called Dreamshade. He told my brother it was a strong medicine used for healing that could help turn the tide of the war back home. All he sent us with was a drawing of the plant, an enchanted sextant, and a sail made of pegasus feathers that would transport us between realms.”

“So that’s how you travelled between realms?” Emma’s voice was incredulous. She’d only ever heard of people with powerful dark magic or fairies travelling between realms.

“Aye, love,” he confirmed. “Several, in fact, but that’s a story for another time.”

Emma nodded slowly, biting back a million questions she wanted to ask at once. She’d read of other realms, fantastic stories of grand wizards and strange bloodthirsty queens. She made a mental note to bring up the subject again later.

“Once we arrived in Neverland,” he went on, “I realized how little Liam actually knew about the assignment. Something about it began to worry me. As soon as we landed on shore, a boy appeared.”

“Pan?”

“Aye, the same. He wanted to know how we found the island and why we were there. When my brother asked how to find the Dreamshade, Pan told us it was a potent poison.”

Emma’s stomach turned, and a sickening feeling gripped her as she guessed where the story was going.

“Of course, my brother didn’t believe him. He trusted the king wholeheartedly. But I saw something in Pan’s eye that told me he was telling the truth. I tried to tell Liam to go back, that the king’s intentions weren’t as pure as they seemed, but he wouldn’t listen. He trusted the bloody king so much that once we found the Dreamshade, he cut himself with it to prove it was medicine.” Killian stopped speaking abruptly and Emma watched as his eyes began to glisten. His voice was rough when he finally started again. “It happened so fast. He collapsed and his entire arm turned black. He was dying and I didn’t know how to save him. So when Pan came back and showed us a spring with healing powers, I ignored his warning about the nature of the magic and used the water to save Liam’s life.”

Emma’s brows furrowed as she watched his hand drop to hold his sword - no, she realized with a start, his

brother’s

sword, surely given to him with his commission as captain. She’d identified the blade as military last year when she’d stolen it that night in the forest, but she never thought…

“Wait. You just said you saved his life,” she puzzled. “Then how did he die?”

Genuine pain lined Killian’s face, and Emma understood the grief that dimmed those bright sapphire eyes. “We decided to leave the island and expose the king for the murderous fraud that he was. But once we crossed the barrier between realms, Liam collapsed. One moment, he was smiling and talking, the next he was just...gone.” His voice cracked, but he kept going. “All magic comes with a price. The price of healing Liam in Neverland was that he could never leave, or his life would be forfeit. We turned around and tried to go back, but…”

“But it was too late,” Emma finished softly.

“Aye.”

She gave him a moment to compose himself before asking, “So that’s why you don’t trust magic?”

“Aye,” he repeated, giving her an apologetic look. “Magic always comes with a price, and we can’t control what that is. The gods seek balance and take what they think they deserve without discrimination. It’s a dangerous game to play for mortals.”

“It is,” Emma agreed, looking back toward the fire, the crew. “So the crew feels the same way, then?”

Killian considered for a moment. “Most were there when Liam died. Most of these men were in service with me and my brother. They remember how dearly we paid for that magic. And at the hands of the king.”

And now mine,

Emma thought weakly.

“I’m sorry, Killian.”

He offered her a half smile and pushed his black hair off his sticky forehead. “It was a long time ago, love.”

“Time doesn’t make us miss our loved ones any less. It just makes us forget the pain.”

Emma’s thoughts drifted to her parents. She’d tried not to think about them in the last few weeks, trying to focus instead on freeing the kingdom, on making a plan. Their search for any refugees in the tropics had been fruitless. There were no rumors in small ports of any travelling to continents beyond, either. Reality was starting to sink in that perhaps her parents truly were gone. With each day that passed, Emma had become a little less hopeful. Maybe it was time to accept that they were really gone.

For the next few hours, their conversation was lighter. Killian fished out a deck of cards, offering to teach her a new card game to add to her gambling repertoire. Coincidentally, he’d joked as he took out his flask of rum, it shared a name with his favorite refreshment. Since it was her first time, he let her bet with small shells they found in the sand around them, but she’d learned so quickly that when she suggested switching to real wagers, he’d politely declined and stated that she still needed practice with her ‘strategy.’ She knew it was a lie - he just didn’t want to get cleaned out by her in a card game. Again.

They played long into the night, and by the time they’d set up their bedrolls, Emma felt lighter, hopeful. Maybe there was something redeemable about Killian after all.
 
***
 
Smoke from the dying fire filled Emma’s nose as she awoke. She blinked drowsily, and as her eyes adjusted, she took in the soft, pearly light of dawn.

There was something about the stillness of a new day - just before those majestic beams of sunlight filled the sky - that felt reassuring. When there was dawn, there was soon to be light. And where there was light, there was life, and happiness, and love.

Emma watched the deep lavender clouds drift across the sky and give way to white, letting her mind float between thoughts of her parents, her kingdom, and her crew. If she had been asked on the morning of her birthday how she thought this new year of her life would start, she never in her wildest imagination could have guessed it would be this. For better or worse, this was her life, her adventure to conquer.

Worse has already happened,

she groaned to herself, thinking of the still-battered Jolly Roger and all the work that was left to do before they could move on.

Which can only mean better from now on. Right?

A low, unintelligible mutter beside her startled Emma from her thoughts. No more than three feet away, Hook - no,

Killian

, she corrected herself - appeared to be stirring from a dream. The first golden rays of sunlight pierced the clouds, illuminating his face. He looked...younger, somehow, when he slept. She supposed it was because his face didn’t harbor its usual shadows, wasn’t contorted by any mask. He had always been one of the most handsome men she’d ever met, but something about him now put him squarely above the rest. She watched as he rolled onto his side and his dark hair brushed over his forehead, but averted her eyes as his dark lashes began to flutter.

Shit.

She hoped she hadn’t been caught gawking.

His brother’s sword - a sword, she remembered suddenly, she had stolen from him once before - was discarded between them, along with his hook and belt. A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips at the display of trust, and she wondered for a moment whether he’d done it intentionally to prove something to her or to the crew.

“Planning another daring escape?”

Emma slowly looked back at him to see him propped up on his elbow with those piercing blue eyes on her, and a lazy smile on his mouth. Though his voice was thick with sleep, he was certainly alert. She sucked in a breath and tried to steady her thunderous heartbeat.

“It never hurts to weigh your options,” she shot back, returning a mischievous smile of her own as she rolled over to completely face him.

“There may be a bit of pirate in you yet, Emma Swan,” he whispered suggestively, watching as the corner of his full lips quirked even higher. Something at the idea had set a spark in Killian’s eyes, and his excitement made Emma blushed furiously.

How could she be so easily affected by him? Before the storm it had become harder and harder to remind herself that they still, in fact, were enemies on some basic level. Sure, what he’d told her last night made his reaction two days ago seem more logical. She’d come very close to killing the only family he had left using the force that had destroyed his real one. She might have had the same reaction too if she’d been in his position, truth be told. Something about his words still stung, and she knew part of her would never let that go, but she understood. But that still didn’t make them friends.

Is it such a bad thing?

A small voice crooned in the back of her mind, and she tried not to bristle. There had always been an undeniable attraction between them, though maybe not always positive. Surely she wasn’t the only one who felt that. What harm would it do to joke and flirt occasionally? It was harmless fun, not true love.

“So what if there is?” She arched an eyebrow at him as she propped her own head on her palm, doing her best imitation of his own suggestive expression.

He blinked - once, twice - and inhaled sharply. When had they gotten so close? Somehow, they were both now lying in the sand between their bedrolls. He must have moved Liam’s sword while she’d been lost in thought. She wasn’t sure Killian would respond to her when he finally breathed, “It would certainly make you an even harder woman to resist.”

Her breath caught in her throat and she felt her bravado begin to slip away.

Harmless fun

, she reminded herself.

“Even harder?” Her voice sounded weaker than before, her whisper barely audible over the crashing of the surf in the distance.

“Aye,” he challenged, realizing he now had the upper hand in their game, or whatever this was. His expression grew impish as he inched closer, but she didn’t dare take her eyes off of his.

“Then what,” she started with as much confidence as she could muster, “would you consider to be completely irresistible?”

He stared intensely into her face for a long moment, eyes boldly sweeping over her eyes, her mouth, her hair, her neck. Lower. By the time his gaze returned to hers, laughter danced in those sapphire eyes and his lips were close enough to her face that his breath tickled her cheek. “An eyepatch would do nicely.”

A crack sounded behind them, and Killian’s head whipped up.

Emma blinked, and the world reordered itself. Gone were the captain’s laughing eyes and soft words, replaced by a completely unobstructed view of the sky, now a soft mix of yellow and first blue. The palm tree beside her was rustling gently in the morning breeze above. Her brows scrunched and she turned her head to find Killian, sound asleep on his bedroll. She shifted her arms and found that she was still lying on her own, and Liam’s sword, that gesture of newfound trust, was still undisturbed between them.
Ah, she realized. She must have fallen back asleep without knowing it. Well, that certainly explains the...everything about that.
Another crack sounded behind her, and she rolled over to find Cooke stoking the fire with freshly cut logs at the center of the encampment, humming to herself as she worked. Most of the crew still slept, but those who were up rubbed their bleary eyes and spoke in little more than grunts as they made their way onto the longboats to get back to the ship for work.

“Planning another daring escape?”

Killian’s sleepy voice almost perfectly mirrored that from her dreams, and she turned to him with narrowed eyes.

“Never hurts to weigh your options,” she muttered halfheartedly.

A groggy, breathy laugh escaped him. “There may be a bit of pirate in you yet, Emma Swan,” he groaned as he sat up and stretched.

Silence filled her head. It was one thing to dream up a flirtatious encounter, but another to actually have it. She offered him a shrug and turned away, searching for her boots.

Metal began tinkling behind her as he buckled his belt and sword to his hips, but she could feel the weight of his stare on her back as she dusted off her socks and feet before stuffing them into her boots.

She peered at him over her shoulder as she moved on to untying her braid. “So, captain, what am I working on today?”

Killian watched her every movement as she untangled her hair, and his face crumpled slightly with disappointment. As if he had expected - no,

wanted

- her to play with him. “I have need of your skills today myself, I’m afraid,” he said. “I need you to help me track down a freshwater spring to refill the empty casks before we leave.”

Emma frowned, raking her dirty hair back with her fingers as she began the plait again. “We still have a week of repairs left at least, why aren’t we helping the others?”

“Several of the barrels have had time to dry out, which means they need to soak for a few days before we can even fill them without leaking,” he explained. “It also takes a while to properly fill and seal the casks so the water won’t spoil once we get it on the ship. The process will take about a week, but having a full water store will save us some expense later if we do it right.”

Emma hummed her understanding as she wound the leather strap around the end of her hair and stood, brushing the sand from her rumpled clothes. She desperately needed a bath and to wash her shirt, but she knew better than to think anyone even noticed at this point.

“You don’t have to join me if you object, love. I just thought that with your background, -”

“I’ll help you,” she interrupted, finally turning to face him. His expression was lined with worry, and she wondered if, like her, it was hard for him to find the precise balance of their relationship. Maybe they weren’t exactly enemies anymore, but the idea that they were lingering on the precipice of friendship, and had been for some time now...it was hard for her. She supposed she’d simply just have to accept it and move forward.

“Besides, without my

valuable

help,” she continued with a playful smile, “you might wander off into the woods and never find your way back, and then where would we be?”

“It is an island, you know,” he said defensively, but something seemed to ease in his demeanor.

“Yes, well,” Emma sighed, daring a step toward him. “You spend your life on a ship. It might be easy to...

forget

some things.”

Killian raised a brow. “Perhaps, love, I’ll show you exactly what I do remember then.”

“Be my guest.”

As they slid into an easy banter, they picked up a bag of provisions from Cooke and set off into the jungle before the crew had finished breakfast. The sun climbed higher overhead, bringing with it the hottest day Emma had experienced on the island yet. Even Killian complained about the insufferable weather several times along their hike.

To Emma’s surprise, they maintained steady conversation while tracking the island’s countless streams to their source. They talked about various kingdoms they’d seen, and how different their experiences had been in each. Killian told her embarrassing stories of himself and the crew to use against them should the need arise, and Emma exchanged them for embarrassing stories of her own life in the palace, under the condition that he never shared them with anyone under any circumstance. As they crested a particularly large hill and stopped for a break, Emma was telling him about her first kiss.

“So then my parents walked in with the entire royal council and, naturally, we hid in a broom closet,” Emma giggled breathlessly, recounting the end of the story.

“Did they catch you?” His words came in heavy breaths, panting in exhaustion.

“Not at first,” Emma huffed. “But the dust started to get to him and eventually he sneezed and gave us away. I’ll never forget the look on my parents’ faces when they opened the door.”

Killian chuckled and offered her a drink of water. “A smooth lad, then.”

“He was before we kissed,” Emma shrugged, accepting the skein.

“How old were you?”

She thought for a moment, trying to ignore the burning in her legs as she gulped down the cool water. “Fifteen, I think,” she finally answered.

“What was his name?”

Emma faced him and groaned dramatically. “Is this a game of twenty questions or something? I thought we were just trading embarrassing stories.”

He bumped her playfully with his shoulder. “Is curiosity a crime, love?”

“No, I suppose not,” she sighed. She hadn’t thought about her first kiss in a very long time, and certainly not the man she’d shared it with. “His name was Graham. He was a couple of years older than me at the time. And before you ask, no, I have not kept in touch.”

Killian suddenly looked serious as he asked, “Was he unkind?”

“What? No, nothing like that,” Emma backtracked, flustered at his abrupt change in tone. “I just mean that we drifted apart and now I don’t really even know where he is.”

“Ah,” he nodded, seeming to understand what she meant. “Well, I’d imagine there were many after him to keep your mind off the heartache.”

“Are you implying something?”

“Merely that a beautiful princess such as yourself must have had her pick of young men in the palace, that’s all,” he clarified, holding his arms up in surrender as they began to walk again.

“On some level, I guess I did,” she agreed, stepping over a large mud puddle. “But nothing ever lasted long, or even happened at all most of the time. I...I guess I was just looking for something they weren’t.”

“True love?” Killian avoided her stare.

“Well, yes. I know that sounds crazy -”

“It’s not crazy,” he interrupted quickly. “I think it does exist. For some people.”

Emma frowned. “What do you mean?”

Killian took a deep breath. “Look at your parents, Emma. They have it, don’t they? For people like you, for heroes, true love does exist. But not for villains.”

And especially not for me,

she could hear him thinking.

“Villains are only that because of the choices they make,” Emma said softly. “They can always change. Which means maybe they can have true love, too.”

He nodded, obviously not convinced, but remained silent so she continued. “Anyway, I don’t even know that it exists for me either. It certainly didn’t at the palace. A few years ago, when the hoards of suitors began showing up, throwing themselves at me and my parents for our money and my powers, I just...gave up. It didn’t seem worth it anymore.”

Killian fixed her with a sad stare, but shadows and understanding filled his eyes. Perhaps that could be the key to their relationship, Emma realized - understanding. They were very different people from very different places, Emma knew, but they did seem to have a mutual understanding on many things, especially emotionally. If they could really get each other, maybe they could be friends.

They walked in heavy silence for some time, until the bright sound of rushing water was audible ahead.

He cleared his throat. “My rusty land senses tell me the spring is that way.”

Emma laughed, the tension of their conversation melting away as they walked into a large break in the trees. A cliff face lined the back of the clearing, overgrown with ivy and ferns around a wispy waterfall that trickled down from the mountain above. She breathed deeply, relieved as the cold mist kissed her skin. The spring below was crystal clear, and so deep that the waters appeared a near-emerald green. Large, flat boulders framed the edge of the water, and Emma quickly began unwrapping her bandaged arm and taking off her shoes.

“What are you doing, love?” Killian’s brows knitted together, but his eyes were excited.

“What does it look like?” She tossed her boots and socks to the side. “I’m going for a swim.”

He didn’t move to follow her as she climbed up to a boulder that sat a few feet above the water and looked down. She could see a thick layer of beautifully colored pebbles at the bottom of the pool through the clear ripples, and she smiled broadly before she leapt into the air with a yelp and the cool waters below embraced her.

If she could breathe underwater, Emma would have sighed in relief. She stayed submerged for as long as she could before her lungs gave in, unwilling to give up this sweet relief from the heat. When she finally surfaced to gulp down air, she found Killian smiling at her, his face full of an emotion she couldn’t quite identify. Something about his expression tugged at her chest, but she shook it off.

“Well?” Emma untied her hair and shook it out, sinking below the surface once again to scrub at her scalp. When she came back up, she asked, “Are you just going to stand there?”

His smile grew flirtatious at her invitation. “It would be bad form to refuse an invitation from a lady,” he purred.

He quickly unbuckled his belt and discarded his sword in the grass, along with his vest and shirt. She tried not to stare and failed miserably. Tufts of dark hair stood out across his tanned chest, though not in an unpleasant way, she noted. Her traitorous eyes wandered over the muscles in his arms, the toned strength of his torso. She was thankful for the cool water around her, if only to keep the flush creeping up her neck from reaching her face. When she finally looked back at his face, Emma knew he’d been watching her ogle him, and he offered her a wink and licked his bottom lip before climbing to the edge of the rock she’d just jumped from.

“See anything you like?”

Emma scoffed at the sensual tone of his voice and splashed him soundly, swimming backward to get away from him.

Killian’s hearty laugh filled the clearing and he jumped, knees tucked into his chest. Waves rocked the pool when he hit the water, and Emma was drenched by a splash of his own. She sputtered and tried to wipe errant droplets from her eyes as he swam over to her in a few long, fluid strokes, flipping his hair out of his eyes with a flick of his head.

Laughing as he tread in front of her, Killian teased, “Can Your Highness not handle a bit of water?”

Emma opened her mouth to retort when a familiar voice rang out from the rocks behind them. Her stomach dropped to the bottom of the pool.

“I think you’ll find she can handle a lot more than that,

dearie.

”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“I think you’ll find she can handle a lot more than that,

dearie

.”

Killian could never forget that voice. Not in a million years.

Rumplestiltskin.

His blood ran cold. Rage and genuine fear filled him as he swam closer to Emma, angling his body between her and the imp. He looked exactly the same as the last time Killian had seen him: his skin was crusted with sickly green luminescent scales. Even his gray hair seemed to be covered in whatever it was that coated his body and clothes, the intricate leather doing little to offset his ghastly pallor. Perhaps his most chilling feature, insanity danced in his strange slitted eyes. Indeed, his entire body seemed to hum dangerously with it as he watched them closely, a predator searching for his moment to strike.

“What do you want, crocodile?”

Rumplestiltskin cackled with delight. “No ‘hello’ for an old friend? I expected better manners from you!”

“You two know each other?” Emma’s voice was low, but Killian could sense her unease. Water lapped onto his back as she slid closer to him.

“Of course we do, dearie! I make it my business to know people,” the imp chirped.

“I thought your business was making deals,” Emma shot back.

Rumplestiltskin narrowed his eyes at her, and Killian reached back to put his hand on her waist. “So it is. But it never hurts to be industrious!”

Patience wearing thin, Killian reiterated his question. “Why are you here?”

“A better question is,” Rumplestiltskin retorted, his own voice full of impatience, “Why are

you

in

there

?”

He snapped his fingers, and in the blink of an eye, Killian and Emma were launched from the pool and crashed down onto one of the boulders at the back of the clearing. The air whooshed from Killian’s lungs as Emma’s elbow landed hard on his abdomen, teeth singing as the back of her head slammed into his face. Rumplestiltskin’s unearthly cackle sounded across the pool, echoing off the cliff face behind them.

“Are you alright?” Killian’s heart pounded as reached around her and gently rolled her onto the ground. He swiftly assessed her, checking for injuries, but found nothing amiss.

“Fine,” she nodded slowly, bringing her hand up to rub the back of her head.

Satisfied, Killian turned back to where Rumplestiltskin had been, only to find he had vanished.

And so had his sword and hook.

He cursed himself soundly for allowing himself to believe he could be safe here, on an unfamiliar island they’d only seen a small portion of. He’d made a proper idiot out of himself, and jeopardized Emma’s safety, as well as his own, in the process.

Killian scrambled to his feet and frantically scanned the clearing. They could still hear the echoes of the imp’s maniacal laughter around them, but he was nowhere to be seen. He stretched out his hand behind him, waving it for Emma to take. Mercifully, she grasped it and he hauled her up, but refused to let go of her once she got to her feet.

“Show yourself, Dark One!” Killian steadied his voice as much as he could, but he felt himself slipping into his rage, felt the sharp tug of vengeance at his sanity.

“No need to shout, dearie.” They whipped around to find him leaning against a large stone behind them. Killian tightened his grip on Emma’s hand, and she gave him a nervous squeeze in return.

“No more games,” Emma said forcefully, letting that uncompromising will ring in her tone. “Tell us what you want.”

Rumplestiltskin raised a brow at her, but dropped into a dramatic bow. “Yes,

Your Highness.

” From the corner of his eye, Killian saw Emma stiffen and raise her chin. “I’ve come to make a deal.”

“She’s not interested in any deals with

you

,” Killian growled.

“Pipe down, Captain. The lady can answer for herself.”

Emma surveyed the crocodile for a long moment and Killian shuffled uneasily.

She couldn’t actually be considering this, could she?

His heart raced when she finally spoke.

“What do you have in mind?”

Rumplestiltskin smiled coldly, a mad giggle escaping him. “That’s more like it.” Insatiable hunger flashed in those reptilian eyes, and Killian wished more than anything he had some sort of weapon to punch through them, to end this madness before one of them got hurt. “I thought it might interest you to know, Princess, that your parents are alive and well, and looking for you, as it were.”

The thunderous beating in Killian’s chest halted, as did every thought in his head. All of his men on the night of Emma’s ball had returned to the ship with the same news before they’d frantically left port: the rebels had killed the royal family, including the princess, and the court had surrendered the throne. He knew the second part had been a lie...but he’d never truly given any thought to the fact that perhaps the first part had been a lie as well. If what the imp said was true, it had been nothing more than a tool for the rebels to use to take control of the kingdom as swiftly as possible.

He stole a glance at Emma, trying to decipher the emotions clouding her face. Confusion and distrust battled behind those beautiful green eyes, but when she looked up at him, he knew something even more powerful had taken hold - hope.

“Prove it,” she demanded, dropping Killian’s hand and advancing on the imp. Killian took a step after her - to try to protect her or to back her up, he didn’t know - but she held a hand up to stop him. He bristled at the order, but didn’t come any closer.

“I swear it on my life,” Rumplestiltskin offered, putting a scaly hand over his chest.

“Try harder,” she snapped, eying him intently. Killian didn’t know whether he wanted to warn her or kiss her for her stubborn bravery in the face of the most powerful man in all the realms. He settled for keeping out of her way and thanking the gods he wasn’t in the line of fire.

Rumplestiltskin’s lips peeled back from his teeth in a wicked snarl. “I swear it on my son.”

Emma eyed him for a long moment, no doubt using whatever gift told her if people were lying to her, before she nodded, stepped back, and demanded, “Where can I find them?”

Another cackle. “How am I to know, dearie?”

“You found us, didn’t you?”

“I had a hand,” Rumplestiltskin said, gaze slipping pointedly to Killian’s blunted wrist.

Killian felt his temper rise uncontrollably. “You tracked us here using my hand.”

He didn’t know why he was so angered by it. For years, he’d suspected the crocodile had kept it as some sort of sick trophy. But for the imp to use it to track him down…

“Yes, well,” Rumplestiltskin sniffed. “Desperate times.”

Killian’s hand curled into a tight fist at his side. Emma inhaled sharply, somehow sensing his shift in mood, and cut in before Killian could lash out.

“You didn’t come here just to give information. That’s not how you operate. Spit it out.”

“I see you have your father’s lack of patience,” Rumplestiltskin observed with a sneer. “Fine. I cannot tell you where your parents are, because I do not know. But I do  have a way for

you

to find your parents.”

The imp held out an empty hand, and with a poof of purple smoke, a worn wooden compass appeared. It was the size of his palm and about 4 inches tall. The lid was domed, and a double band of thin white paint adorned the edges. A torn leather strap dangled from a hook on the top, as if Rumplestiltskin had recently ripped it from someone’s possession.

“This compass here is no ordinary instrument,” he sang, lifting the lid. The inside of the domed lid held a faded painting of a night sky, the chipped gold stars barely standing out from the dirty blue. The golden face of the compass wasn’t in much better shape, Killian thought to himself. Looking toward the sky to check their direction, he noticed it didn’t even point north.

“It’s broken,” Killian bit out, patience wearing incredibly thin.

Rumplestiltskin smirked at him, but turned back to Emma, who eyed the contraption warily. “True, it doesn’t point north. But you’re not trying to find north, are you?”

“So you’re saying,” Emma scoffed, “that this broken piece of junk will help me find my parents?”

“Well, yes,” Rumplestiltskin answered, snapping the lid shut. “The man I traded this from assured me that this compass points to the thing you want most. So long as that’s your parents, it will lead you to them.”

Killian’s eyes narrowed. “These don’t exist in our realm.”

He’d heard rumors of such compasses on his travels between realms, but he’d never actually seen one. The enchantments alone that made them work involved a special sort of magic - voodoo, if he remembered correctly - and none in this realm were known to practice the

real

thing. Indeed, every pirate worth his salt had dreamt of such a treasure, but never believed it was real. It was just another tale shared amongst travel-worn crews during long nights at sea.

“It’s not from our realm,” the imp snapped.

“Then where’s it from?”

“The Caribbean.”

“Never heard of it, mate.”

“I can assure you, there are many things you -”

“What do you want in exchange for it?” Emma’s barked question revealed her annoyance, and Killian couldn’t help his inward flinch.

“Ah.” Rumplestiltskin extended his other hand, his empty fingers seeming to twitch with anticipation. “A single hair from each of your heads. A small price to ask for such a prize.”

Emma took a step back and Killian grabbed her hand once more, that steely resolve she’d shown minutes ago completely dissolved. He wondered if the crocodile could read her as easily as he could, if he could sense the fear and trepidation, the hope and courage warring beneath her skin. Her hand was clammy and stiff, but Killian caught her eye and nodded grimly.

“It’s your choice, Swan.”

Rumplestiltskin raised a brow at them, but Killian ignored it. It

was

her decision. He promised her help in finding a way to take back her parents’ throne, and if this was how she felt she could accomplish it, he would keep his word. More than that, if it bought her even a chance at happiness, he would gladly sell his soul to the crocodile without hesitation.

“Come, dearie, we don’t have all day.” The imp’s words were sharp, edged with malice.

“No.”

Killian blinked.

Rumplestiltskin’s mouth popped open in shock, eyes wide as he drew his hands back. “But whyever not?”

Emma took a steadying breath, and pulled her shoulders up to her full height. “The compass for a single hair from

my

head. Just mine. This deal doesn’t concern him, and your price shouldn’t either.”

The imp’s expression turned contemplative, if not a bit annoyed. “Deal,” he agreed with a huff, extending his empty hand to her once again.

With a flinch, Emma pulled a single strand of golden hair from the crown of her head and placed it gently into Rumplestiltskin’s palm. He knew better than to speculate what the crocodile would do with it, but he knew it couldn’t be good. The imp closed his hand and snatched it back with a strangled laugh as he tossed Emma the compass.

“Pleasure doing business with you, dearie. A word of advice?”

Emma raised her eyebrow as the imp leaned toward her conspiratorially and pointed between the compass and Killian.

“Keep your eye on the prize.”

What the hell does that mean?

Killian’s brows furrowed, but a flush crept into Emma’s face. She didn’t bother to reply before she turned around and pulled Killian with her.

“Don’t forget these,” Rumplestiltskin called behind them as Killian’s sword and hook reappeared next to his clothes. “And give a shout if you ever decide you need help with that fickle magic of yours, Your Highness. We wouldn’t want you blowing anything else up on accident.”

“I won’t be taking magic lessons from a psychotic lizard,” she shot back, but when she turned around, the imp was gone.

Once again they were alone, the sounds of merry chirping and splashing water now their only company. Wordlessly, they walked to their discarded clothes and began to dress again. Killian immediately buckled on his sword as he scanned the woods around them, though he knew the crocodile had slunk back through whatever hole he’d come, obsessing over his new prize.

Killian watched Emma as she wrung out her hair, still dripping wet from their swim, waiting for her to speak. Or for any reaction beyond distant contemplation, he reckoned. But she was silent, even as they picked up their provisions and left the clearing, even as they hiked back to the beach through the stuffy woods. She just walked and clutched that compass as if it were a lifeline in a tidal wave.

Unsure what to say, he stayed a step behind and kept to his own thoughts, trying to wrap his brain around what Rumplestiltskin had told them. Every assumption they’d been operating under since they’d left Emma’s kingdom had been a cleverly concocted lie. Of course the rebels hadn’t been able to spread word a royal assassination so quickly. They’d likely started spreading the rumors before the miscreants had even breached the palace walls, which meant this had been a highly organized event. Common thieves and criminals didn’t storm fully-occupied palaces to merely look for jewels and treasures with a plan this refined. A public statement like this meant a larger conspiracy was at play, and Killian hated himself for falling for the ruse.

But to think that Emma’s parents were alive...it changed everything. Emma’s priorities would now be to find her parents above all else, which could certainly change the terms of their agreement. Not to mention what would actually happen when they

found

the royals.

Though somehow, it hit him, it didn’t change much at all. It would take gods knew how long to find them, even with the enchanted compass, and they were already looking for survivors or anyone who could offer a clue on the mysterious rebels. It would just be more of the same at the end of the day.

A small alarm sounded in the back of his mind as a single thought that struck him like a physical blow.

What about

us?

He was just getting used to the idea of Emma not looking at him as a villain. What she’d said earlier, about being able to change, the possibility of finding love...it had stirred something in him. He’d allowed himself to hope as he had scarcely done since Milah’s death that perhaps he

did

have a future. Maybe it made him naive, but for a moment, he’d begun to wonder if that future could possibly be with her. But now that her parents were back in the picture, now that it looked even more likely that she could take back her kingdom...well, he supposed that left him two options:

The first would be the honorable thing to do. He’d take her to find her parents and help her in whatever way he could to win back their throne. At best, he would receive a pardon for his crimes and be sent on his merry way. Alone.

The second was selfish and...he refused to even finish the thought. Emma would never forgive him if he didn’t help her find her family, and keeping her to himself aboard the Jolly would most certainly guarantee her hatred. Somehow, that seemed a worse fate than being alone for the rest of his days.

Option one then, mate.

As they neared the beach, Killian sighed through his nose and snuck a glance at Emma’s face. Her expression was like stone, but intensity shone in her eyes, honed by razor sharp focus. He hadn’t seen her like this since last year, and it reminded him why he’d found her so attractive in the first place. Her stubbornness and strength were a song to his soul, though sometimes a very irritating tune. He took another deep breath, and knew what he had to do.

“Swan-”

“I think we need to alter our bargain.”

Killian’s eyebrows shot up as she spoke, but he recovered quickly. “What did you have in mind?”

Now that Emma’s intensity was focused solely on him, he had a hard time maintaining his composure. “I want to amend my side of the bargain. I understand I’m not exactly in a position to negotiate, after showing up here and expecting your protection and then destroying your ship. But perhaps I could sweeten the deal a bit for you now that circumstances have changed.”

“I’m always willing to negotiate with you,” he teased with a wink. It had been weeks since he’d seen this kind of attitude from her, and gods damn him, it made him want her even more.

She narrowed her eyes, but didn’t falter. “In addition to your protection, I want your word that you’ll help me find my parents. We’ve been looking for refugees and news for weeks now, and I’d like to shift the focus of our search to a single objective. In exchange for making this an official part of our bargain, I’m willing to offer a considerable part of my dowry to you and your crew once I’m back home.”

Killian stopped dead in his tracks and just stared at her. The first part of the bargain he’d expected, but the payment...

He wasn’t quite sure how much a princess’ dowry might be, but he was positive it would be more than he or his crew could ever dream of seeing in a lifetime on the seas. Whichever men so fancied it would be able to retire comfortably as gentlemen and leave their lives at the mast behind. Weeks ago, he’d have lavished this offer, but now…

Even if he didn’t want the payment, his crew certainly would think differently. He couldn’t let the men down.

Worse, he couldn’t deny Emma this shot at happiness.

“We have an agreement.”

Something indiscernible flashed across her face, but when he blinked, it was gone, replaced by a dazzling grin he’d never seen from her before. He’d never seen her smile so freely. She was breathtaking, and he couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride swell in his chest knowing that he’d caused such a reaction.

“So...what now, Captain?”

Killian laughed at the sudden formality, but quickly began taking tally of what needed to be done before they could cast off. “Repairs need to finish on schedule, which largely depends on the weather. They’ll have the mast up today with any luck, which means the rest of the repairs will be largely cosmetic. Of course, we’ll need to resupply with water and whatever Cooke deems we can’t live without from the island. After all that, the most important part lies with you.”

Emma’s brows shot up and her smile vanished. “What part is that?”

“Why, our heading of course,” he replied with a grin of his own, nodding to the compass still grasped firmly in her hand.

“Oh,” she sighed. “Right. Do you think it really works?”

Killian shrugged. “We won’t know until we try. The crocodile’s a slippery bastard, but I don’t think he’d mislead you about the compass. At least not when you traded fairly for it. He honors nothing over his contracts and power.”

Emma hummed her agreement as she absently traced the edges of the compass with a finger. “Where do you think they’ll be?”

“I’ve no idea, love,” he admitted, pushing his damp hair off his forehead.

Hopefully somewhere less bloody humid,

he thought to himself.

“Well, it’s got to be somewhere they have connections, right?” Emma mused absently, still toying with the compass.

“Not necessarily. Sometimes the best hiding place is somewhere you can be completely anonymous. It would be in your parents’ best interests to remain as incognito as possible until they had a plan.”

“I suppose you’re right.” She looked up at him, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her rosy lips. “Not bad. For a pirate.”

“There’s the princess I know. Welcome back, Miss Swan.”

Once again, she offered him that broad, dazzling grin. But as he followed her back to the camp, that same question from before nagged at the back of his mind:

What about us?

***
 
The next week passed without incident. Work continued on schedule aboard the Jolly, concluding with rehanging the sails yesterday. The new mast was sturdy, but the repairs on the side were a temporary fix. They were good enough to hold for now, but the rest of the ship was still made of enchanted wood. Killian had to admit that he was nervous to find out the new limitations of his vessel with ordinary timber mixed in. He had no idea where he would even find someone to fix such a problem.

Luckily, they hadn’t heard from the crocodile during their chores the last week either. Killian couldn’t tell who was more glad of that - Emma or himself.

But Emma…

The lady Swan had been reserved for several days now, more so than usual. He’d never known her to be particularly outgoing, but she was beginning to grow more social, more at ease around the crew lately. He thought it was a good sign - he’d been glad to see her adjust over the past weeks they’d been at sea. But in recent days, she’d retreated into herself. She only volunteered for solitary jobs to do throughout the day and she refused to join in on games after dinner. She even missed a rather wonderful story from Cooke two nights ago, opting instead to sit alone beneath the palm tree they both still slept under and study the compass.

She’d seemed particularly obsessed by the device since Rumplestiltskin had given it to her, but he hadn’t once seen the princess actually

open

it. He’d mentioned it to her once, hinting that they’d need to know their heading soon, and she’d vaguely nodded and walked away, the color draining from her face.

It had begun to worry Killian, actually. She hadn’t been this reclusive since her first days back aboard the Jolly. He felt like they’d made so much progress with each other, and he was unwilling to lose that. He had to at least try to talk to her.

Killian looked around, at his crew sitting together around the fire, and smiled. They’d be leaving in the morning, and it would likely be a long while before they set foot on solid land again. The life of a sailor offered many freedoms, but the time and opportunity to share this level of comradery was not one of them.

Peering over his shoulder, he saw Emma sitting away from the crowd with her back to them and her head tipped toward the sky. He’d often seen her aboard the Jolly Roger on clear nights after dinner. Almost every night, she sat on the quarterdeck staircase, watching the stars with wondrous intensity. He’d often wondered what she thought about in those lonely moments, but never found it appropriate to intrude. Given her recent behavior, maybe it was high time he did.

Quietly excusing himself, Killian stood and approached her, careful not to sneak up on her. He doubted the lass would take too kindly to a scare tonight.

Emma didn’t greet him when he sat down beside her, his shoulder brushing against hers as he settled into the still-warm sands. Electricity shot through his arm at the contact, and from the way she whirled her wide eyes to him, he knew she felt the same. His heart fluttered at the thought, but he tried to ignore it as he spoke.

“A truth for a truth?”

A glare was her only answer before she looked back up to the heavens.

Killian wasn’t going to take no for an answer. “Shall I go first, then?”

Her muffled

hmph

wasn’t exactly what he was hoping for, but he took it as a yes. He took a deep breath and searched for something, anything, to tell her that might help her open up.

Did she refuse to open up because of who she was? Or because he’d hurt her?

He was beginning to suspect the former, though he couldn’t ignore the latter. He’d seen how hesitant she’d been around him, even though they’d been more than friendly the day they found the spring. She’d almost been flirty with him, but since seeing Rumple, things had changed. Something had been off, as if that morning hadn’t happened, or hadn’t been genuine.

How could it be genuine, when he’d basically wished her death? Killian knew the lass wasn’t the forgiving type, but how could he change that?

He supposed the truth would be a good place to start. He took a deep breath and began.

“I know I said some things last week that hurt you, and I understand that they’re quite unforgivable.” Killian glanced momentarily at Emma, but her face remained unchanged, completely devoid of emotion. “The truth is, the night you showed up on the ship, I was scared. At first, I thought you were setting me up and the royal guard would be on their way in moments. Then I realized you might have been running

from

something, and anything or anyone that could scare you enough to run away like that would likely get me killed too. You just stood there, or you

tried

to stand there, but something was wrong and you just flopped onto the floor like a fish without water. That’s when I knew - the rips in your dress, the swaying, the fear in your eyes. Someone had drugged you and tried to take you...tried to hurt you in unspeakable ways.”

Emma looked at him, but Killian kept his eyes on the sand, unwilling to meet her stare. “I...well, I panicked. I ordered the crew back before we’d even picked your body up from the deck. We took you below to keep you safe from anyone who might come after you, but the cowards never came forward to try to claim you.”

She breathed a laugh, and relief flooded through Killian as her posture relaxed. “I figured they wouldn’t be crazy enough.”

“Fortunately, you were right. The truth is, Swan, that I’ve been scared every moment since then. The truth is that I’ve not known what to do since you stumbled back into my life. The truth is that I thought about betraying you again. But the truth is...now that I know you, I could never bring myself to do that ever again.”

Killian felt the heat of Emma’s emerald eyes on him, but he looked to the stars instead and pressed on. “Your presence has changed

everything

for me. Moreover, I’m afraid that you’re changing

me

. If you hadn’t shown up, I’d have already looted a vessel or two and rejoiced in my ill-gotten gains, but now...you’ve given me a purpose beyond my own revenge and selfish disdain. And the truth is, I’m afraid of what will become of me when you return home to your family and kingdom. I fear this life might not be all that’s meant for me anymore, and I don’t know where that leaves me.”

By the time Killian summoned the courage to look at Emma, her features were soft, contemplative. He felt for a moment as though he’d said too much, and he had an overwhelming urge to try to take it all back before she replied, “That’s more than one truth.”

“Aye,” he agreed, trying and failing to smirk at the jest in her tone. “Consider it a package deal.”

Emma smiled, mischief dancing in her eyes as she said, “On my current salary, I won’t argue with a discount.”

Killian’s mouth popped open in feigned shock. “Are you trying to negotiate a pay raise with me,

Your Imminence?

”

“Oh gods,” Emma groaned. “Please,

never

call me that ever again.”

“What’s it to be? ‘Love’ or ‘Your Imminence’?”

She flinched, but her smile remained. “Can it be neither?”

“No, but it can very easily be both.”

She rolled her eyes and they shared a laugh before turning their attention back to the twinkling constellations above. “‘Love’ it is.”

They sat quietly, relishing the cool night breeze on their clammy skin as the chatter around the fire died behind them. Beside him, Emma sighed heavily and leaned into his arm. She was tense, he noticed, but there was a weariness in her demeanor that she hadn’t let show before. Killian’s blood sang at the intimacy, but he didn’t dare move, afraid that even breathing too deeply would scare her away.

Restraint, however, proved a challenge. The longer they sat, the more her tension melted away, and the overwhelming urge to put his arm around her waist and pull her close nearly choked Killian with desire. Her warmth seeped through his long sleeves, and even though it was unbearably hot, it felt pleasant. He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing. 
In, out. In, out.

Don’t fuck this up for us, Jones.

In, out. In, out. In, out.

It’s not like this means she likes you back. She’s had a shock. Don’t push her.

In, out. In, out.

She’s never done anything like this before…

In, out.

A rustle of hair interrupted his mantra as Emma lowered her head onto his shoulder.

It was his undoing.

He took a shuddering breath and looked down at her. Her loose blonde hair had fallen over his shoulder and cascaded down their arms. Only inches separated their legs, but her hand sat limp in the sand between them. Before he knew what he was doing, he reached down and took it, gently brushing it clean before lacing his fingers with hers.

You idiot.

Panic rose and his heart pounded against his ribs. With each second that passed, he was more and more sure she would snatch her hand away and shove him off, condemning him for the wretch he was.

But she didn’t.

She just sat there, snuggled into his arm, watching their intertwined fingers.

He had to say something,

anything

, before he burst. He took a deep breath.

“I’m terrified to open the compass,” she blurted suddenly.

There it was. He’d noticed all week that she hadn’t tried to use it, but he hadn’t considered it was fear that stopped her.

“I don’t think you have anything to fear from just a compass, love,” he offered gently.

“It’s more than that,” she admitted. “I’m...I don’t know. I’m afraid of where it will lead me. Or us, I guess.”

Killian nodded, thinking. “If the imp is to be trusted, it should lead us to your parents. Is that not a good thing?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered.

He sat quietly, letting her sort through her emotions. In a way, Killian had no idea what she was feeling. He’d always known his parents were gone - his mother died before he’d even known her, and his father was as good as dead. There was never a possibility for that broken world to come back together for him. He imagined it must be hard to process, and even harder to put into words.

“I suppose it’s a good thing. But what if Rumplestiltskin is lying? What if he’s made a deal with someone else to trick me and this is all some sort of trap?”

“Aye, that’s always a possibility,” Killian conceded. “But imagine if it’s not. What if, at the end of this journey, you actually find your parents? Is that not enough?”

Her head snapped up and he could feel her body going taut, readying herself for a fight. “Of course it’s enough.”

“I just mean that we won’t know until we try, Swan. Most likely, we will find your parents alive and well, and your life will go back to normal once they figure out a plan to take your kingdom back. But if that’s not the case and the crocodile has played us for fools, then believe me, we will make him and anyone else who gets in our way pay dearly for it. You have my word, my men and I are adept at exacting revenge.”

“So, what? We’re just supposed to

hope

that he told us the truth?”

Killian lifted her chin with his hook. “Hope is a powerful magic.”

Her eyes widened as they filled with tears. “My parents used to tell me that.”

“Then they’re wise beyond their years,” he said, dropping his hook back to his side.

“I’m just afraid that if we find them, they’ll be disappointed in me.”

“Why would they ever be disappointed in you?”

“Because I ran.”

Oh.

She thought she was a coward. The bravest woman he’d ever met thought herself a coward.

And she thought that her own parents would agree with her.

“Running doesn’t always make you a coward, Swan.” His voice was low as he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “It makes you a survivor. You did what you had to in order to protect yourself and your kingdom.”

“I did it because I believed my duty to protect the line of succession was above my duty to protect my family. I was wrong.”

“You weren’t wrong,” Killian objected. “You did what you thought was right.”

“Is that enough, though?”

“It’s always enough.”

He spoke confidently enough that Emma considered his words and nodded, then lowered her head back onto his shoulder. “So...what happens if we find my parents?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted with a sigh. “But I do know that we have to find them. And that starts with the compass.”

“I know,” she muttered as she untied the contraption from her belt. “Have you thought any more about where you think they’ll be?”

“Well, if it was me…” Killian tried to put himself in the queen’s shoes for a moment. “I’d likely be in neighboring kingdoms, keeping a low profile but trying to stir up empathy for myself. I’d want to win allies.”

Emma hummed her agreement and removed her hand from his. He instantly missed the contact, a most unwelcome cool breeze tickling his palm.

“I suppose it’s time to figure out where we’re going tomorrow, then.”

Her fingers trembled as she unlatched the compass. She hesitated and closed her eyes, bringing her hands close to her heart.

“Show me where my parents are,” she whispered almost inaudibly.

Killian smiled. “I don’t think you need to talk to it, love.”

“Shut. Up.” She snapped at him without opening her eyes, but she bit her lip to hide a smile. Killian watched the movement closely.

Emma’s eyes opened and she swallowed, then she flipped the lid of the compass up.

They both leaned forward to watch as the face spun around and around, whatever magic it had trying to locate the object of Emma’s deepest desire. As it began to slow, Emma sucked in a breath.

The needle whirled around, once, twice, thrice more, then stopped.

Emma and Killian looked to each other and grinned.

“West it is.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The Jolly Roger sailed hard and fast for an unknown location, guided only by a compass which didn’t point north, for more than seven weeks. Unfavorable winds and turning tides seemed to greet them at every opportunity, but the ship and crew held fast, hoping that soon they’d find land. Killian and McHanna poured over maps every second they could, trying to guess where the compass might be taking them. For days, their best guess was as good as Emma’s.

That was, until yesterday.

Emma had been enjoying a cool night under the stars, pensively watching the golden face of the compass when their course had shifted without warning. She had breathlessly run to Killian’s cabin and burst through the door to share the news, only to hurry back out blushing at his state of undress when he’d shot out of the bed in alarm.

By the time he’d summoned McHanna and joined her on deck, she had spread out the maps of the Western Isles over a table and lit a lantern. Ultimately, they discovered that they were still headed straight for the kingdom of Gilonia - which Emma had never heard of in the first place - but now their course was taking them toward the coastal cities, not the rural outposts. They’d learn which city as they closed in and formulate a plan accordingly, Killian assured her as he’d walked her back to her cabin.

She slept fitfully, and after tossing and turning for nearly an hour, she gave up on the idea entirely and dressed for the day. Watery light trickled in through the salty window. She knew most of the crew would still be asleep and there would be little to no work to do, but her restlessness wouldn’t be kept at bay any longer.

After a quick trip to the belly of the ship, Emma emerged on deck with an old crate and a belt full of various knives and daggers slung over her shoulder. The crate had been haphazardly painted with a series of rings to be used for target practice, and after missing her lessons for so many weeks, this seemed a good way to fill her morning.

“I hope those aren’t meant for me.”

Emma whirled, knives clattering against each other as she faced the voice.

Killian was standing wearily over the maps they’d studied last night as though he’d been there for hours. Indeed, there were dark circles under his eyes and his hair was tousled more than usual.

“They might be if you scare me like that again,” she finally replied with a quirked brow. “What are you doing up here?”

Killian sighed heavily and stretched his arms over his head. “It’s my ship, love. Is there any reason for me

not

to be here?”

“No, I just didn’t think you were much of a morning person.”

“Normally I’m not,” he confessed as he dropped his arms back to his side and approached her. “But I must admit, I’ve been very worried about where this adventure is taking us. Supplies are starting to run thin. I need to find a port that can see us fully stocked sooner rather than later.”

“Ah.” Emma nodded, leaning the crate against the newly installed mast before stepping back a few paces. She pulled a knife from the belt and weighed it in her hand.

Behind her, Killian warned, “Your aim better be impeccable, or the bosun will have your head.”

She huffed a laugh, threw an incredulous look over her shoulder, and tossed the blade. A thud sounded, and by the look on his face, she knew she’d struck home. Indeed, when she turned back to the target, the handle of the knife was still wobbling in the center dot.

“I think he’ll be fine with it,” was all she said.

Killian breathed a laugh of his own and bid her good morning before disappearing below deck, presumably to take a nap.

With each blade thrown, she settled deeper into a steady rhythm. She had never considered herself the contemplative type, nor the kind of person who meditated on her feelings, but as she lost herself in her training, her emotions rushed in one by one.

A different kind of unease had settled in over the past weeks. Before, she had been scared of the sheer enormity of her task to take back her kingdom alone. Now, the utter uncertainty of the entire situation had worn on her for so long that she felt like she was no longer sure of anything at all. She often laid in bed long into the night, wishing upon any star she could glimpse through her dingy window that she wasn’t being sent on some wild goose chase. The Dark One was always a man not to be trusted, and Rumplestiltskin was the most slippery one there had ever been. From infancy, her parents had warned her of his tricks and deals, yet here she was, entangled with the imp to save their lives. The irony wasn’t lost on her, nor was the risk. Killian had done his best to soothe her worries, but nothing had been able to settle her discomfort.

Her unease, however, didn’t take away from her excitement. Until she’d been given the compass, she’d felt as though the light inside of her had been replaced by the deepest of shadows. Day by day, the closer they got to her parents, she felt the shadows lift. No amount of uncertainty kept her from imagining about the relief she would see in her mother’s gentle eyes and her father’s proud face when they saw each other once again. Her family was built on reunions, and this one would be no less important than the ones before her time.

But with those fantasies came dread. Should a reunion occur, what would come after would be inevitable. They still knew next to nothing of the rebels currently occupying her mother’s palace. She hoped her parents would know something she did not, for she was certain storming the castle without enough information would spell disaster for them all given that the only guaranteed alliance they had to speak of was an ancient pirate crew of little more than thirty men.

Those thirty men, however, brought Emma a certain measure of relief. Every member of the Jolly’s crew was highly skilled and deadly in their own way, each trained directly with or by their captain. Though she often feared her parents’ reactions to her alliance with the man who had very nearly ruined her life in recent memory, she knew that few numbers were better than none, and they were numbers on which she was willing to stake her life. Surely that had to count for something with her parents. Snow White had spent much of her own life as a criminal, for gods’ sakes. Emma knew she wouldn’t be the first to throw stones. No, she was much more worried about the reaction of her father, the noble Prince Charming. She supposed all she could do was brace herself and hope for the best on that front.

Reaching for the next blade, Emma found the belt completely empty. She blinked rapidly, her thoughts snapping back to reality. Around her, several crewmates were groggily starting their morning chores, mumbling their greetings in between heavy yawns. Quickly, she cleaned up her target practice before the recently recovered bosun could come up and began her own work.

By late afternoon, they could see land break on the horizon. Every crew member crowded the rail to get a glimpse of their destination, except for Emma.

A pit settled into her stomach, accompanied by a vicious bout of nausea. Her nerves threatened to choke her as she tried to swallow down lungfuls of air. For the life of her, she didn’t know why she was so anxious. She should be glad that she was one step closer to seeing her parents. But something felt...off. It wasn’t about Rumplestiltskin or the compass, it certainly wasn’t about her companions. She couldn’t place her finger on it, but she knew to be on her guard.

“Miss Swan!”

Emma turned and found McHanna waving her over to the map he was holding in front of Killian. She took a steadying breath and made her way up to the quarterdeck.

“It’s just like we thought,” he began excitedly when she’d reached them. “As long as your compass doesn’t change directions again, it looks like we are headed straight for Soria.”

Hands on her hips, she studied the map and asked, “What do we know about Soria?”

“Not much, I’m afraid,” Killian cut in with a frown. “It’s a wealthy town, mostly frequented by merchants from this area. We know it’s not friendly to pirates.”

“Aye, that is a set back,” McHanna agreed. “But we can drop anchor outside of town tomorrow and try to spiffy the boat up a bit before putting in at port for provisions.”

Emma’s heart skipped a beat. “Won’t that delay us going into town?”

“No,” Killian quickly answered. “You and I will go ashore ahead of everyone else and investigate your parents’ whereabouts. We’ll need disguises, but I’m sure I can procure us something fairly quickly.”

“I’ve got something that can help with that,” she offered, suddenly thankful for the bricks of hair dye she’d bought from Alyza for an occasion such as this.

“Excellent, so it’s a plan?” McHanna’s question should have been to Killian, she knew, but he looked only at her.

She gave him a firm nod. “Yes. It’s a plan.”

McHanna rolled up his map and tucked it away, then with a bow of his head, he walked back to the helm and began shouting orders at the crew, leaving her standing alone with Killian.

“Are you ready for this, Emma?”

She took her time answering. She could still feel her nerves eating at her piece by piece, but she knew it wouldn’t get better until she found out what was waiting for them in Soria one way or the other.

“I’m ready.”

Killian surveyed her for a long moment, and she knew he was reading her like an open book. She shifted defensively, trying and failing to school her expression into a cool mask of neutrality. He smirked at her efforts and nodded once. “Good. We need to leave the ship at first light. We’ll have someone ferry us to shore and from there we’ll make our way back to the port and, with any luck, to your parents.”

She couldn’t help the excitement that exploded in her chest. “I’ll sleep with my fingers crossed.”

“As will I,” he answered with a smile.
 
***
 
“You can’t be serious.”

Even from where she crouched behind the mossy log, Emma could see yards upon yards of brightly dyed fabric bundled in Killian’s arms, brilliant pinks and yellows and greens swirling together in a shimmering pile of utter tastelessness. It looked like he’d found the most ridiculous gowns he could find just to humiliate her.

Unable to bear the thought, Emma hissed at him as he tossed the garments at her and dumped another, less colorful bundle onto the grass. “I will

not

be wearing any of those!”

“Come, love,” Killian warned with a frown as he took her in. “It’s the local fashion, and you’ll stand out if you don’t. We’ll have a hard enough time passing that hair off as it is.”

Emma scoffed and touched her hair self-consciously. The instructions that had come with the block of dye she’d bought from Alyza all those weeks ago had been...well, vague. In her rush to leave the ship, she’d used a smaller portion of the block than she’d needed, and the result had come out more strawberry with rosy streaks than dark red as the shopkeeper had promised. It didn’t look at all natural, but it had certainly changed her appearance enough that she didn’t care.

After months on the ship, her complexion was darker than it had ever been, and with the new hair color, she was almost unrecognizable. Perhaps all those days in the sun had bleached her hair enough to have changed the results of the dye, if such a thing could even happen. Or maybe it was the fact that over the last months her hair had grown so much she simply didn’t use enough to account for the change.

“I happen to like it,” she retorted, making a point of not acknowledging the gowns scattered on the ground next to her.

“Even so, it’s better the other way,” Killian mumbled as he claimed a seat against the log.

Emma raised an eyebrow at him. “So you have a thing for blondes?”

“Everyone has a type!” His voice was defensive, but laughter danced in his eyes.

She narrowed her eyes at him and fluffed her hair out in response, putting it on full display. Killian rolled his eyes at her and scoffed.

“You can’t tell me you don’t have a type, Swan.”

“A person’s worth as a partner is deeper than how they look,

Hook

,” she chastised, but she blushed and picked up one of the atrocious gowns between her fingers, dropping it quickly as though it would burn her.

She

did

have a type. She’d never had a romantic interest around long enough to fully realize it, but they all had a few characteristics in common - dark hair, blue eyes, good senses for adventure and humor, a general air of dishevelment that she found utterly irresistible. Stealing a glance at Killian, Emma noted the tousled hair and days-old scruff and furrowed her brows. Gods above, he

was

her type personified.

Nope, no, absolutely not,

she warned herself.

“Of course.” She could hear the grin in his voice as he nonchalantly responded. “Nevertheless, I regret that you must put aside your good taste and choose a gown.”

Sighing heavily, she heaved the pile of fabric into her lap. “You couldn’t have chosen anything in jewel tones?”

Killians eyes widened at her in disbelief. “You honestly expected me to be picky about the color of those monstrosities while I was stealing them out of the back of a moving cart?”

“So you admit they’re monstrosities!”

“Aye, of course I do!”

This time, Emma rolled her eyes as she draped each dress over the log before her and surveyed her options for a long moment, however dismal they were. At the bottom of the pile, she saw a chemise and a thin pair of drawers.

He’s nothing if not thorough,

she thought drily, casting a now-smirking Killian a withering glance. At least he’d had the foresight to grab a powder blue corset that she didn’t entirely hate.

“The pink will just draw attention to my hair,” she finally said. “And yellow has never been my color. I’ll just have to wear the green.”

“It seems the lesser of evils,” Killian agreed as he grimaced at the yellow fabric in question, the excessive tucks and pleats in the cheap fabric of the bodice making it look little more than a tangled mess.

Emma had to agree. Though the shade of olive was a little too yellow, the cut of the gown was far simpler than the others. The only real detail it had was a sizable bustle on the hips and beading on the sleeves. With some strategic tucking, she thought she might stand a chance at toning it down a bit.

“Well, let’s get on with it.” Emma stood with a grunt, unhooked her borrowed cloak, and threw it to - or rather,

at

- Killian. She snatched the chemise and drawers from the ground and stomped to a nearby bush for privacy as his laugh rang out behind her.

Of course she had known she’d have to wear some sort of unpleasant disguise, but she hadn’t expected it to be

this

. She’d worn as little as possible when she’d left the ship, bringing only the compass, her pants, and a long sleeve shirt. On her way out, she’d swiped the dark cloak from the captain’s cabin and made a note to buy one of her own now that they were in a cooler climate.

Taking a deep breath, Emma tried to learn what she could about this foreign place from her newly acquired wardrobe. Judging by the frilliness of the clothes Killian had brought to her and the layers of undergarments, she could only draw so many conclusions on the status of women in this kingdom. It was very likely that she’d be expected to behave as an ornament. She abhorred the thought of being anyone’s pretty pet.

She undressed and shoved the chemise over her head with a huff. The material was thick enough to cover her, but it did nothing against the cool breeze that flowed through it. As quickly as she could, she put her legs through the drawers and pulled them up. They were a bit tight, but no one would see them anyway. They’d do for now.

It’s temporary. Just until I find Mom and Dad,

she reminded herself.

It’s worth it.

As she walked out from behind the tree, her own clothes and the compass in hand, Killian didn’t bother to hide his wolfish grin.

“How scandalous, Princess!”

“Fuck off,” she shot back, bending over to pull at the pinching cuffs on the bottom of the drawers.

“My mistake,” he said with raised hands. “A princess would never use such language.”

“Then you’ve never met a princess like me before.” She stood straight and looked him in the eye with her hands on her hips.

Killian licked his bottom lip, and she cursed herself for watching the movement so closely. “Indeed I have not.”

Ignoring his response, Emma stalked to the mossy log and picked up the corset, flipping it over in her hands. It was clearly meant for daily use, but for some reason the laces were on the back, she noted with a shake of her head. Apparently, women here didn’t dress themselves. Even when she lived in the palace, she had corsets that latched in the front so she could dress herself when she wanted.

She tossed the corset to Killian, and he caught it in his hand with a confused look. “Blue is a lovely color on me, but I assure you this will not fit.”

If she had to roll her eyes one more time at him, she thought, her eyes would stick in the back of her head. “I need you to help

me

put that on, you ass. I’m assuming you know how.”

For once, Killian hesitated before he spoke. “I must confess my experience lies more in removing them than putting them on.”

She leveled him with an unsurprised stare and flatly asked, “Can you reverse the process?”

“Aye,” he nodded and twirled his hook, signaling her to turn around. She obliged and lifted her hair out of the way with a hand as he loosened the laces. “Can you hold this in place, please?”

He lowered the corset over her head, and she pressed it in place quietly, startled by his politeness. Suddenly, she wished she’d tried to figure out how to do this on her own. She hadn’t realized how intimate it would feel, having him dress her.

Judging by his uneven breathing behind her, she knew he felt the same.

Killian’s voice was low, almost shaky, as he asked, “How tight should this be?”

“The dress doesn’t look that small, just tight enough to fit will do.”

“Ah,” he said, but she could hear the confusion in his tone.

“I’ll tell you when to stop,” she offered with a laugh. A twisted sort of enjoyment twisted in her gut at his flustered behavior. Beneath the bravado, behind the constant jokes and innuendos, she supposed he was just a man after all.

It took him several tries to figure out which laces to pull first, but eventually he got to work. Emma gave him direction every so often, but for the most part, his experience in corset removal seemed to be enough to give him a general idea.

Killian cleared his throat behind her. “Will this do?”

Looking down to check his work, Emma nodded. “Yeah, that’s fine. Just tie it and tuck the ends of the laces into the panel.”

Behind her, Killian knelt and she felt his knees brush against her heels. Startled by the sudden contact, Emma tried to jump away but his hold on her remained tight.

“

What are you doing?”

He struggled to maintain his grip on the laces of the corset from his place on the ground. “I’m trying to tie this bloody ribbon! I’ve only got the one hand, Swan. I’ll have to use my teeth.”

“Your teeth,” she repeated as she glared down at him over her shoulder.

He smirked up at her, his earlier trepidation nowhere to be found. “How many times must I remind you that I only bite when asked?”

“At least once more,” she mumbled and turned around, giving in.

He laughed softly and looped the laces together, then leaned up until she felt the heat of his breath on the middle of her back. He worked quickly, taking the loop between his teeth and pulling with his hand until it was tight.

“There, all done,” he said as he tucked the bow away and gave it a gentle pat.

Emma turned around and glared at him half-heartedly. “Thanks.”

He inclined his head at her. “The color suits you.”

“This one won’t, I bet,” she sighed as she picked up the dress.

“It’ll be better than you think,” he reassured her with a wink.

They worked together to put on and fasten the gown as quickly as they could. The sleeves were a little short, but the delicate black beads dangling from the ends hid it well enough to be convincing. In all her life, Emma had never worn anything this impractical. Even when she wore gowns, they weren’t

this

restrictive and frilly.

It’s only temporary,

she reminded herself again.

“Those are yours, I’m assuming,” Emma said, nodding to the heap of brown and black clothes behind Killian as she sat on the log to put her boots back on. Luckily, the dress was long enough to hide her riding boots from anyone’s attention.

“Aye.” He scooped them up from the ground. “I’ll return in a moment.”

He disappeared behind the same tree she’d used, and by the time she finished putting her shoes back on, he emerged again.

“Oh, that’s just not fair,” Emma whined as she took him in.

He looked relatively normal. A dressy black vest was buttoned atop a crisp white shirt, which was unbuttoned enough to reveal a few swirls of dark hair beneath. His dark pants fit almost perfectly, and he slid on a long brown coat as he walked toward her, the collar, lapels, and sleeves tipped in rich black. The detailing around the buttons matched the black accents, and Emma’s jaw almost fell to the floor. He’d switched his hook for a gloved prosthetic hand, though she could see that he kept the hook tucked into the back of his pants. He didn’t quite fit the image of a well-to-do merchant - the stubble along his jaw and his disheveled hair certainly gave away that there was more to him, to say nothing of his delicate, black earring. But he did look incredibly handsome.

He gave her a devilish smile, then innocently asked, “What?”

“How could you steal a piece of shit like this for me and find something like

that

for yourself?”

“Oh, I bought this, love,” he informed her as he raked a hand through his hair, though it did little to control the sea-swept locks.

“You

bought

that and stole a piece of shit for me,” she clarified.

“Look at that thing,” he said, waving a hand at her. “It wouldn’t have been worth the gold they were trying to charge for it.”

She fixed him with a stare and crossed her arms over her chest, nearly dying as the beads at her wrist tinkled with the movement.

“Sorry, Swan. We’ll find something better when we get into town.” He was still smiling, but he looked a little more apologetic than he did before.

“It better be good,” she told him, returning a smile of her own as she tossed the compass to him. “You’ll need to hold that. Apparently, these women don’t believe in pockets.”

“As you wish,” he shrugged as he tucked the compass into an inner pocket of his coat. “We won’t be needing it until tomorrow, anyway. We won’t arrive in the city until dark.”

They made quick work of hiding their normal clothes in a hollow tree nearby, carefully marking its location so they could easily find it again, and set off toward Soria.

As they walked, Killian explained what he knew of the city. The port sprawled across a valley floor right up to the harbor itself, its residential areas scattered in the back and middle with the more lucrative businesses lining the water at the front. Unlike most ports he knew of, this one actually had a bustling population of permanent residents, most of whom were involved in some trade scheme or another. From what he’d gathered, the people were snobbish, concerned only with their own wealth and little else, but they didn’t seem dangerous in a traditional sense. They did love to talk, however, and that could spell disaster for them if they accidentally let slip their real identities. People this obsessed with money, Killian warned her, would do anything to line their pockets, including selling secrets to people in high places.

Emma tried to digest as much of the information as she could, praying she could learn enough to not stand out too much. “Did you notice anything about how they socialize?”

“I’m afraid not, we’ll have to wing it. If anything, we just try to convince people we’re travellers passing through.”

“We need to try to be as vague as possible about where we’re from and who we are,” she suggested, reaching back to braid her pinkish hair.

Killian nodded his agreement. “What names should we use?”

Emma thought for a long moment, her fingers working quickly.

“I’ll be Leia,” she declared as she tied the end of the braid off with a leather strap. She twisted the plait into a bun at the nape of her neck and tucked in the end, hoping it would stay until she found something to secure it with. Quietly, Killian fished in his pocket until he produced another leather strap and handed it to her. “Where did you get this?”

He shrugged. “You leave them all over the ship.”

“That explains a lot,” she muttered, thinking about her dwindling supply of hair ties back on the ship.

“What should my name be, Swan?”

“You should probably pick something common. What about Charles?”

Killian’s face scrunched at her. “

Charles

? You want me to sound like a prick?”

“There’s nothing wrong with the name Charles!”

“I beg to differ! Pick again.”

“Fine,” Emma conceded, holding her hands up. “What about...William?”

“That’s Smee’s name.”

“Harry?”

“No.”

“Philip?”

“Absolutely not.”

“George?”

He glared at her.

“Right. Sorry. How about John?”

“Too basic.”

“Jack?”

For a moment, he was quiet, which she supposed was a win after so many quick rejections.

“Simple, easy to remember, and most certainly

not

a stuffy upper crust name. I like it,” he said with a smile. “Jack it is.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “It only took a million years.”

“Only because your suggestions were all rubbish,” he retorted with a smile.

Her answering protest was half-hearted. Their banter continued as they walked, and Emma had to admit that their constant teasing and sarcastic bickering had become a treasured part of her routine aboard the Jolly Roger. Over the past seven weeks, they had become good friends. With Johnny always busy and most of the men still too scared of her to befriend her, they’d spent more time together than usual and she had to admit that she’d come to really enjoy his company.

She would never tell him that though.

The sun was sinking below the trees by the time they left the woods behind and wound their way through the eastern edge of town. Quaint townhouses in countless soft colors lined cobbled streets, each with a tiny manicured patch of grass behind iron gates. At first, they were beautiful, but after seeing street after street of the same, Emma had to admit the uniformity was unnerving. It was as though all of the personality had been leached from the town, leaving behind a shell of utter soullessness that had her feeling more apprehensive than appreciative.

“I’m assuming originality isn’t an export of this particular port,” Killian whispered as they rounded yet another identical corner.

“I think you’re probably right about that,” she replied softly.

Brine filled the air as they reached the waterfront, and they both almost sighed in relief. The monotonous homes were replaced by shops and inns of all shapes and sizes, though they too were painted in a myriad of pastels.

It seemed that this district truly was the center of life in Soria. In their walk through the residential districts, they had only seen a handful of people walking about, but here there were crowds huddled around shop windows and sitting in restaurants. A few taverns were scattered here and there, but they were nothing like those she’d seen in other ports, or even in her own city. They were far nicer, much cleaner, and definitely did not allow pirates. She would bet a pretty penny, however, that they had no less gossip to share.

Emma tugged on Killian’s sleeve and jerked her head toward the doorway of a brightly painted tavern - The Sunset Bay Tavern and Inn. “Let’s go in.”

He narrowed his eyes and peered inside the windowed door. “I don’t think they’ll have your preferred watery ale in there, love.”

“No, but they may know something about two strange travellers they’ve never seen before.”

“Very well,” he bowed his head and opened the door. “After you,

Leia

.”

She gave him the small curtsy. “Thanks, Jack.”

Laughter danced in his eyes, and it was all she could do not to burst with it herself as they walked into the unusually bright tavern.

Another pirate deterrent, I suppose.

After surveying the room, they picked a table near the window. Other patrons were sitting around them, enjoying the sunset above the water just outside, and she planned to thoroughly eavesdrop on each and every one of them. All she had to do was pick her first target.

Before she could set her sights on someone who looked very “in the loop,” a dark-haired man approached the table and plopped two menus in front of them.

“Good evening.” He surveyed them both, and though his eyes lingered on Emma’s hair for a second longer than she liked, they seemed to pass whatever test he was putting them through and turned back to Killian. “My name is Wilson, I’ll be seeing to you tonight. What can I get you to start with? A nice glass of wine for the lady, perhaps?”

It was all Emma could do not to let her jaw drop to the floor.

Excuse the fuck out of me, I’m right here.

“Actually,” she said sweetly, “I’d like an ale.”

Wilson’s eyes widened as he turned to her, then back to Killian. “Sir, are you sure that’s entirely appropriate?”

A smile played on Killian’s lips that told her he was about to have fun with one of them. She prayed it was Wilson.

“Whatever the lady wants, she’ll have,” he shrugged. “I’ll have the same.”

Wilson straightened his lapels and bowed his head. “As you wish, sir.”

They watched as he retreated, and when he disappeared, Killian breathed a laugh.

“I already hate it here,” Emma snapped in a hushed tone. “

A wine for the lady, perhaps?

Give me a break.”

Killian’s grin spread ear to ear before he winked and whispered conspiratorially, “I imagine he’d hit the floor if he saw how you drink rum.”

She smiled at the thought, but didn’t respond as the waiter returned with two glasses of ale. One, she noticed, was significantly smaller. She had to look away to keep from glaring at it.

“Two ales,” he announced as he sat them down atop two small, crisply ironed linen napkins. “Might I interest you in a small course? Or shall we move straight to the entrees? We have a wonderful special tonight - the chef got a crate of fish from the bay not an hour ago that looks splendid.”

“Do you have anything that’s

not

fish?” Emma kept her voice sweet, but she could see the annoyance in Wilson’s face as she spoke.

He forced a thin smile onto his face as he looked down at the table. “We have a wonderful roasted chicken over -”

“Perfect,” she interrupted. “I’ll have that.”

Wilson’s neck strained as he nodded politely.

Victory.

“As you wish, madame. And you, sir?”

In what Emma could only assume was a sympathetic gesture, Killian gave the man a dazzling grin and ordered the fish. She gave him a stern look and switched their glasses around after Wilson left. A protest bubbled at his lips, but he thought better of it and Emma smiled sweetly at him as she drank deeply from his glass.

For nearly an hour, they ate and watched the sun set in the distance while listening in on whatever conversations they could hear. Unfortunately, people seemed more interested in the changing weather and local scandals than strange visitors. In fact, they didn’t hear a single peep of anything out of the ordinary. Emma tried and failed to hide her disappointment. She wondered if maybe these people were too self-absorbed to have even noticed her parents wandering around the town at all.

When the room became crowded enough that they could no longer hear, Killian waved Wilson back to the table to settle the bill. Somehow, he’d managed to snag a bit of local currency during his outing earlier, and judging by the look on the waiter’s face, he’d grossly overpaid for the man’s service tonight.

“Thank you, sir. If you require accommodation tonight, might I suggest a room here for yourself and your wife?”

Excuse me?

Emma’s mouth actually did fall open this time, but a sharp look from Killian had her scrambling to cover it with her hand. She feigned a yawn, hoping it wouldn’t look too unnatural.

“That would do nicely,” he replied. “My...

wife

and I would appreciate that.”

Blood rushed to her cheeks and she could feel the heat radiating from her face.

“Very well, I’ll return momentarily,” Wilson replied cheerfully before flitting off again.

“

Wife?

” Emma hissed as she leaned over the table toward him. “Are you kidding me?”

He shrugged and raised an eyebrow. “Don’t pretend like it’s such a repulsive notion, love.”

She didn’t take the bait. “It’s completely unnecessary.”

“You saw how you were treated by our new friend tonight,” he said quietly, nodding in the direction the annoying prick in question had disappeared. “Being married to me might be your best shot at blending in while we’re here.”

“

Pretending

to be married to you,” she corrected with a glare.

He smirked in answer.

Pretending to be married

would

allow her to move around relatively unnoticed so long as she claimed she was on some errand or another. Not to mention the fact that it would easily explain why they’re travelling together in the first place. It’s not like she could waltz around broadcasting that she was actually here looking for her parents, who, by the way, were a king and queen of the realm and presumed dead until recently. That would likely go over like a lead balloon.

“Well?”

Emma’s attention snapped back to him. “Well what?”

“What do you say? Marry me, love?”

If she could narrow her eyes anymore at him, they’d be closed. She slumped back in her chair with a huff. “Fine.”

“That’s the spirit,” he chuckled.

As if on cue, Wilson returned with a small envelope. “A key to your room. The number is written just here, and you can pick up fresh towels on your way up from the desk at the stairs.”

“Thanks, mate,” Killian said in dismissal as he took the key.

The gangly man furrowed his brow, but took his leave.

“How do you fancy a stroll?”

Emma raised an eyebrow at him. “A stroll, or a search?”

“I seem to remember I owe you a better dress. And I’ve told you already, it would be better to start poking around tomorrow in the daylight.”

She looked down at her vomit-colored dress and cringed. “Right, shopping it is.”

They left the restaurant arm in arm and wandered the street. Despite the darkness settling in, the area was brightly lit with gas lamps every few feet and the crowds didn’t seem to have died down at all.

It was a short walk until they found a shop that appeared to sell something Emma considered to be mildly decent. Killian made a show of handing her a few coins before leaving her to her shopping and making a teasing remark about “buying herself something pretty.”

“I think I liked you better when we hated each other,” she mumbled under her breath as she closed her fist around the coins.

With the noise of the crowd, she wasn’t sure he heard her, but he winked and smiled down at her. “I wouldn’t agree. Actually, I quite fancy you from time to time.”

Before she could retort, he bopped her nose with a finger and disappeared with a promise to meet her back at the inn. She took a deep breath and pushed open the door of the shop.
 
***
 
An hour later, Emma walked back to the inn with a new cloak around her shoulders and a handled box clutched in her hand. The cloak had been a necessity - the night air was growing brisk, and she’d been quite taken with how the delicate golden clasps looked against the deep charcoal gray fabric.

Shockingly, she had been able to find something decent to wear in this town. She’d chosen a red satin dress that she’d set her eyes on the moment she’d walked in the door. The bodice was fitted and came to a point before a beautifully draped skirt with no added frills. The sleeves were long and thick and, like the bodice, fit closely and ended in points on the backs of her hands. The neckline held the only bit of ornamentation on the entire gown - the sweetheart cut was lined with delicate beaded tulle that sparkled in the light. In her kingdom, a gown like this would have only been worn at night, but women here seemed to have no reservations about wearing more extravagant things all day.

Bright light spilled onto the sidewalk from the giant windows of the Sunset Bay Tavern, and Emma rounded the corner to find Killian leaning against a wall near the small side door of the inn.

“Finally,” he exclaimed as he stood straight and stretched dramatically. When she reached him, he extended his hand to her. A small bag tied with a white satin ribbon dangled off a ringed finger. “For you.”

She furrowed her brows in surprise. “Thanks.”

He winked at her as he pushed the door open, and Emma nearly sighed at the warmth that washed over her pink cheeks.

An older woman behind a polished marble counter smiled and greeted them. “Towels?”

“Yes, please,” she breathed, absolutely elated by the thought of a real, warm bath.

“Of course, dear. We’ll send up a maid to fill the tub. I just need your room number.”

“Ah,” Killian hummed, searching his coat for the envelope with the key. He produced it with a triumphant look. “It’ll be 322.”

The woman nodded and handed over two warm, fluffy towels. “Have a good night, dears.”

They offered their thanks and ascended the stairs. They walked in silence through the carpeted corridor until they found their room. Killian handed the envelope to Emma, and she slid the brass key from the thick paper and unlocked the door.

Shit.

Why hadn’t she thought about the room until now? Of course she’d known when Wilson had offered a room that he meant just

one

room. Now that she was seeing it, she realized something that made her heart stop dead.

That meant one bed as well.

Killian seemed to realize it the same time she did and he scratched behind his ear nervously. “After you?”

For a moment, Emma considered how uncouth it would be to sleep in the hallway. She decided on ‘

very

,’ so she stepped into the room and looked around.

The large bed looked supremely plush with its plentiful thick blankets and soft pillows. A tufted bench sat at the foot of it, the upholstery tastefully matched to the carpet. There was a small desk against the window that matched the bedside tables, heavy curtains that were already drawn closed draped behind it. A small armoire and a doorway to a private bathing room sat on the other side of the room.

Behind her, the door clicked shut softly and she heard Killian’s hesitant footsteps on the thick blue carpet. She looked over her shoulder at him and he offered her a small smile.

“I see you found something to wear, then,” he said, gesturing with his prosthetic to her box.

She nodded, but didn’t say anything, instead worrying her bottom lip as she put the dress and small bag from Killian on the desk and unhooked her new cloak. Stress had been eating at her all day about her parents, but now a different kind of nerves fluttered in her stomach. She knew Killian was a gentleman, and she trusted him completely. But that still didn’t do anything to ease her feelings about sharing a gods damned room with him.

“I’m going to take a bath,” she announced suddenly, her voice sounding entirely too loud in the tense air of the room.

“Do you need help?”

Emma’s eyebrows shot up and she opened her mouth to start yelling before he turned red as a beet and corrected himself.

“With your dress!” His eyes looked like giant blue orbs, shock written plainly across his face. “I didn’t mean - apologies, Swan, I just thought -”

“I doubt that.” Her voice didn’t hold the venom she’d hoped, and she was miserably failing to hide a smile.

He blinked a few times, but the color didn’t fade from his face as he tried to control his expression. “I just thought that you might need help, like you did earlier. That’s all I meant.”

She nodded and turned around, giving him access to the clasps at the back of her dress. “This better not be some ploy to try to lure me into bed, pirate,” she warned, voice low.

Snaps and clasps popped behind her as he worked. A beat of silence passed between them as he slid her dress down her arms, fabric hissing as it dropped to the floor.

“Believe me, Emma Swan,” he whispered, lips close to her ear. “If it was, it would have gone much better than that.”

She closed her eyes and sucked in a breath.

Keep it together.

Slowly, she blew out the breath and responded weakly, “I’ll believe that when I see it.”
That is not keeping it together. Why the hell would you say that of all things?
She scrunched her face and cringed inwardly as Killian loosened the laces of her corset.

Mercifully, he didn’t answer, and within seconds, her corset gave way and she instinctively took a deep breath at the freedom. Turned out, he really was much better at removing them than putting them on. She tossed the garment onto the bed, plucked up a towel, then wordlessly padded into the bathroom and closed the door.

Steaming water rose from the bath, and Emma thought she had never seen a more beautiful sight. She didn’t know when a maid had slipped in the servant’s door along the back wall to bring in the water, but she didn’t particularly care either. It had been months since she’d had a tub to soak in, and she would enjoy every second of it.

Or enjoy it as much as she could after she’d just basically invited Captain gods damned Hook to flirt with her whenever he pleased. Embarrassment and horror washed over her in waves. Why did she always have to have the last word? One of these days, it would get her into trouble.

She was afraid it already had.

She didn’t know how long it had been when she finally emerged from the bathroom, skin pink from scrubbing and wet hair dripping down the back of the thick navy dressing robe she’d found hanging on the back of the door. It wasn’t proper pajamas, she thought, but it would do.

Sitting on the bed with his ankles crossed, Killian watched her carefully, almost as though he was afraid to speak. While she’d been bathing, he’d changed out of his vest and jacket, and removed his prosthetic. He’d also picked up her dress and corset and placed them carefully in the armoire, along with the new one she’d bought earlier. Her boots were neatly placed beside the bench at the end of the bed. She almost smiled at his cleaning up behind her.

She cautiously approached the bed, but stopped short when she saw that he was holding. Cradled in his lap was the small bag he had given her earlier.

Emma’s curiosity finally won over. “What’s in the bag?”

His throat bobbed and he held it out to her once again. “A gift.”

“What’s the occasion?” she asked suspiciously, plopping onto the bed and settling in before finally taking the present from his hands.

“Does a man need an occasion to dote upon his wife?” He smirked at her and waggled his eyebrows, and she had the overwhelming urge to punch him in the nose when she heard water draining in the bathroom.

Damn, these maids are sneaky.

“Open it,” Killian urged.

She cast him a wary look, but pulled on the ends of the white satin ribbon and turned the bag over. A small black velvet box with a dainty gold catch tumbled into her palm. Carefully, she unhooked the catch and lifted the lid of the box.

Emma’s breath caught in her throat as she beheld the gift.

He’d bought her a ring.

Glinting in the candlelight, the gold band twisted around two tiny diamonds on either side of the darkest, most beautiful sapphire she’d ever seen. Together, the stones reminded her of the night sky, but as the square-cut blue gem flashed and sparkled in the light, she suddenly was reminded of Killian’s eyes when they danced with emotion. Something about it both ached and soothed her. She didn’t bother hiding her emotions as she faced him again.

“It’s beautiful,” was all she could offer.

Killian’s eyes flickered to the bathing room behind her and they both heard a door

snick

shut. “If you don’t want it, you don’t have to wear it,” he said gruffly, his gaze returning to her cautiously, “but I thought our little charade could use some help.”

“And what better way than a wedding ring,” she finished for him.

“Aye,” he looked away and gestured toward the box. “May I?”

She handed him the box, heart throbbing in her ears, and watched every movement as he removed the ring from its nest and extended it to her with an expectant look.

“Oh,” she exclaimed and jutted out a hand.

A chuckle rumbled through Killian’s chest. “The other one, love.”

Color flooded her cheeks as she realized her mistake. “Right,” she laughed nervously. She offered him her left hand, and he shook his head as he slid the ring onto her finger. The sight stirred something inside her, the rightness of it jarring, and she scrambled to find some way - any way - to break the tension.

“How on earth,” she started, voice a bit too loud as she pulled her hand from his fingers back into her lap, “did you know my size?”

Humor flashed in those sapphire eyes. “A pirate always knows these things.”

“Right, treasure and all that,” she rolled her eyes. “Unfortunately, I didn’t have your size so you won’t be getting one.”

Killian raised his thick brows. “No need to fret, love. I got my own.” He pointed to his bedside table, and sure enough, there sat the silver-and-sapphire twin to her own ring.

“Of course you did,” she groaned.

They smiled at each other for a long moment, their laughter fading back into that lingering tension that Emma felt between them more and more often as they got to know each other, as though the more they bared their souls to each other, the tighter some invisible link between them was forged.

It scared the absolute hell out of her.

“I think we should get some sleep,” Emma whispered.

“Aye,” Killian answered, shadows suddenly lining his face. “I’m sure we’ll need it to find your parents tomorrow.”

The thought clanged through Emma like a physical blow. Though she was still hesitant to get her hopes up, she knew that with the compass and their wits, it was very likely that they

would

find her parents. Her anxiety swelled as she blew out the candle on the table beside her and she nestled into the pile of blankets.

“Emma?”

She hummed in response.

“Would you prefer if I slept on the floor?”

She almost yielded to her good senses and said yes before realizing how easy it had been for the maid to get into the bathroom unnoticed earlier. “No, it’s okay. Stay.”

For a long moment, he didn’t move. She could have sworn he wasn’t even breathing. But eventually his weight shifted behind her as he climbed beneath the covers, staying as far from her as he could manage. “Good night, Swan,” he breathed.

“Good night.”

Darkness fell over them as he extinguished his candle, but neither of them went to sleep. Emma’s body felt tight enough to explode at any second, and she knew it had little to do with the man sharing her bed.

What would her parents say when they saw her? How would she explain where she had been and why she hadn’t been looking for them until recently? She wondered if they would be ashamed of her for losing hope, or embarrassed of her for falling in with pirates. Not to mention how they would react to her current friendship and fake marriage to the man who’d abducted her just over a year ago. The worry he’d caused them was still fresh on their minds, as evidenced by the heavy guards they’d kept on her for the better part of a year once she’d returned. How could she blame them for reacting negatively to this now? She tried to remind herself that she made the best decisions she could under duress, but it did little to sooth her nerves.

Before she knew what she was doing, she rolled over and whispered, “Killian?”

“Hm?”

She hesitated. “Everything’s going to be okay, isn’t it?”

Emma could just make out his outline in the darkness as he rolled to face her as well. “Of course it is, love.”

“Promise?”

The question felt weighted. He had no reason to promise her anything beyond their current arrangement, which had been more than generous given the circumstances. Despite his claims of being a gentleman and living by a code, his behavior had felt in excess of that, bordering on genuine kindness.

Sheets rustled as he reached across the bed and found her hand. She hadn’t realized how cold she was until he laced his warm fingers with her own, his thumb brushing soothing circles over the back of her palm.

“I promise.”

She silently cursed herself at the relief that coursed through her at his words and touch.

Those feelings are pointless

, she reminded herself harshly. He was a pirate and she was a princess. She would find her parents tomorrow and they would sail back to their kingdom and, after that, likely never see Killian or his crew ever again. It didn’t matter that he was the first person she felt truly understood her, or that she knew there was

something

there, some tug that she felt toward him between those moments of laughter and kindness. None of it mattered in the slightest.

It was never meant to be, and she needed to stop pretending she could ignore that before they got hurt.

But for now, she held his hand tightly and hoped for what tomorrow might bring.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Soft light streamed in through a crack in the curtains as Killian stirred. Sheets crinkled around him and he had to stifle a groan at the obscene coziness of the bed as he nestled into the sinfully plush pillow.

The scent of rosemary and mint tickled his nose and a faint tingling erupted in his fingers, still intertwined with Emma’s. Drowsily, he unlaced their fingers and flexed his hand against a thick, fuzzy fabric...that was most certainly not the soft cotton of the sheets.

He cracked an eye and his breath caught painfully in his throat at the pink-haired head tucked under his chin.

Somehow during the night, Emma had rolled to his side of the bed. His arm was draped over her waist, and he watched as it rose and fell with her steady breaths. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to ignore every cell in his body screaming at him to be

closer, closer, closer.

As if the minx could hear his thoughts, she softly sighed in her sleep and pressed her body into his. He cursed himself as his hand instinctively flattened against her stomach, the possessive gesture stoking a flame inside of him he knew he’d have to douse before it razed every ounce of self-control in him.

Every inch of his body felt alive and petrified all at once. The heat of her back threatened to burn him from the inside out. He took a deep breath, hoping the cool air would help.

It did not.

With the back of her body pressed against the front of his, he could feel the softness of her, as well as the strength. She was more relaxed now than he believed she had ever been when she was awake, and it tugged at his heart in a curious way. Unfortunately, he knew he couldn’t stay like this until she woke up, or she very well might never be alone with him again - after she beat the ever-living shit out of him, of course. He knew the gentlemanly thing to do would be to let her wake up alone, to never tell anything of this moment that would most certainly stay with him forever.

It still didn’t stop him from wishing he could stay right here all morning.

If only things were slightly different between them...their circumstances, their pasts, their history together. They were all obstacles to what his body and heart screamed at him that he wanted the most.

His restraint nearly gave out, and he tilted his head down and pressed his lips to the crown of her head, breathing in that minty rosemary scent he’d noticed before. She hummed quietly, nestling further into the warmth of the blankets, and Killian knew if he didn’t get up now, there would be troubled waters ahead.

So slowly, he unwound his arm from her waist, fingers dragging along the curve of her body lightly, itching for more. He clenched his fist in protest, leashing himself, and rolled to the edge of the bed before silently placing his feet on the floor.

A deep breath and rustling sheets sounded behind him and he turned, holding his breath.

Shit, shit, shit.

Emma’s still sleeping face was turned toward him as she lay in the spot he’d previously occupied, pink tendrils of hair falling across her forehead in delicate curls. He ran a hand through his own sleep ruffled tufts as he watched her for a long moment. If he thought her body had felt relaxed moments ago, it was nothing compared to the peaceful look on her face as she slept. He couldn’t remember a time when she didn’t look as though the weight of the world rested upon her shoulders, but right now, she looked so calm, so young.

He leaned down and gently brushed the hair out of her face before he gathered up his clothes and quietly padded to the bathroom. He closed and locked the door as quietly as he could before dumping the garments onto the floor and leaning against the wall, letting his head fall back with a soft

thud

.

Killian Jones was in deep shit.

Sighing heavily, he dragged his hand down his face.

You can’t go down this path, mate

, he warned himself.

As much as he wanted -

desperately

wanted - the woman still asleep in the room adjacent, he knew he could never have her. Nevermind the unlikelihood of a union between a pirate and a princess or the thought of what would happen once their grand adventure reached its end; Killian knew that what made them so impossible was the fact that he truly, completely, irrevocably loved her.

This was not the burning passion that had once consumed him with Milah, or the fleeting fancy he’d had with countless flirts since, but something deeper, something real, that both destroyed and reshaped, condemned and saved, ached and soothed. It was something he didn’t quite understand, but wished not to at the same time. He also wished with every fiber of his being that he could ignore these feelings until they disappeared entirely.

He was completely consumed by his love for a woman who he had genuinely loathed just months ago, and it terrified him. Everyone Killian had ever loved was dead. He had survived loss after loss - his parents, Liam, Milah; he had been broken beyond repair more times than he cared to count. But the inevitability of another catastrophe on the horizon made him realize that this would be the one he wouldn’t,

couldn’t,

survive.

Love was his darkest curse, and his greatest weakness. He had never experienced love in his life without darkness creeping in to smother every last ember. Perhaps it was the darkness in his own heart that poisoned his relationships, a painful manifestation of the state of his villainous soul.

“Villains are only that because of the choices they make,

” he remembered Emma telling him softly all those weeks ago.

“They can always change. Which means maybe they can have true love, too.”

Had she known how much he’d wanted to hear those words? The good it did his soul for someone as pure and full of light tell him that he could be redeemed? Or the pain those words now caused him at the slightest possibility that they could become something more than they were now?

It still doesn’t make a difference,

he thought miserably, pushing off the wall.

The tub before him was full of steaming water, those sneaky maids having filled it sometime very recently. Emma had been right about sleeping in the same bed. There’s no telling who had been creeping around in here while they were sleeping. He made a mental note to check their belongings when he returned to the bedroom.

Checking that the door to the servant’s hall was securely shut, he stripped and sank into the warm waters of the bath with a groan. A cloth and bucket were all they could manage aboard the Jolly on a daily basis, with each sailor getting to use one of the three washtubs on board for a bath once a week. Even then, you couldn’t sink into the lukewarm-at-best waters like you could in a

real

bath. This was a luxury Killian was determined to enjoy.

He dunked his head beneath the water, and once he came up for air, he grabbed for one of the vials on the teak side table. He uncorked it with his thumb and inhaled deeply.

Mint and rosemary.

The same soap Emma had used on her hair last night. He had smelled it on her not minutes ago.

He knew in his heart of hearts that what she’d said on that island didn’t make a bit of difference, but hope had taken root in his heart. The lass didn’t feel the same about him, he could see it in her face when she looked at him, hear it in her voice when she teased him. She was completely uninterested in any romantic capacity, and he...he was nothing more to her than a friend, and he was grateful that they had even become that.

It hurt like hell, but he would have to learn to live with that. If that was the only way that he could keep her in his life, he would do anything to maintain that friendship.

Which meant that he couldn’t pursue her romantically in any way.

There would be no winning her heart, no charming her into his arms. There would be no day where he would wake up and see her lying next to him as anything more than some clever ruse.

Killian dumped some of the thick soap onto his hair, put the bottle back on the table, and scrubbed with his fingers. He took a deep breath and sunk beneath the surface of the water, staying there on the bottom of the tub until his lungs screamed for air.

When he emerged, he tried to let her go.

The scent of rosemary and mint wafted through the room, floating on tendrils of steam.

He squeezed his eyes shut against the memory of her ridiculous rosy hair tucked beneath his chin, desperately trying to forget about the feeling of her against him as she’d nestled into his body.

He failed miserably.

So she remained.
 
***
 
“I didn’t realize pirates cared so much about personal hygiene.”

She’d sniped those words at him when he’d finally been chased from the tepid water by her relentless pounding upon the door, complaining about her urgent need to relieve herself.

He’d simply walked out in nothing more than a low-slung towel and she’d blushed furiously before slamming the door behind her.

Quickly, he slipped on his pants and scanned the room, checking for anything amiss or disturbed. Nothing appeared to have been touched last night by those stealthy housekeepers. Good. He didn’t think he’d ever live it down if he’d let himself be robbed by a maid.

Emma returned, wearing a new, warmer set of long undergarments in place of the robe she’d slept in. “Can you at least put on a shirt?”

He smirked. “I could, but where’s the fun in that?”

Her expression hardened, shadows creeping into her eyes. “Today isn’t about fun.”

“You’re right.” He bowed his head and reached for his shirt, trying to ignore the harsh sting of rejection. “My apologies, Swan.”

See? Uninterested.

She opened her mouth as if she’d say something, but closed it quickly and turned on a heel toward the wardrobe. As he silently donned his brace and put on his shirt over it, she tossed the new garment box onto the bed and removed that stolen powder blue corset. It was a silly thing, really, but when he’d seen the color, he’d thought of how pretty it would look with her eyes. He hadn’t been mistaken, and it secretly thrilled him that he was the only one who could know.

As though she could sense his thoughts, Emma suddenly shot him a glare over her shoulder. He feigned disinterest and looked away, retrieving his hook from the nightstand and clicking it into place. When he turned back to her, he mustered every bit of bored indifference he could before he held out his hand and said, “Well?”

He watched her brows pull together slightly before her expression softened, like she had dismissed a troubling thought. He often wondered if others could see her emotional battles written across her face as he could, if anyone else had the ability to look at a simple quirk of her lip or wrinkle of her eye and know exactly what was going on in that brilliant, stubborn mind.

Emma padded across the thick carpet to him and turned around, handing him the tangled mess of boning and strings. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For last night. For making me feel better.”

“You’re most welcome,” he answered, sorting through strings and knots until he found his bearings. “How are you feeling today?”

Killian was halfway finished with the corset before she replied. “I can’t tell. I…” Her voice trailed off and he stopped his tightening as she took a deep breath.

He hummed his understanding, a gesture to let her know that he was listening as his fingers and hook resumed their work.

But she didn’t continue. He tied off the corset with his fingers and teeth, then gently pulled on her waist to turn her around. “A truth for a truth?”

Her throat bobbed, but she nodded. She turned her gaze down to her feet, before she whispered, “I’m just afraid of what will happen when I find my parents.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “You’ve already told me that truth, love.”

“I know,” she said softly. “But today is the day we find out, and I can’t help but think of all the ways this could go wrong or that this was all some elaborate trap.”

“Aye, I would agree that the thought is unsettling.” His thumb trailed lightly along her side in soothing lines. He’d had his share of troubles with the Crocodile, and it stoked the flames of his fury that Emma was enduring the same. He added it to the list of grievances he would one day settle with the imp. “But you do still owe me a secret, love.”

Emma sighed heavily. “Let me think of a better one. You go.”

His fingers stilled at her side and he raised them, tipping her head back gently to look into her eyes. He couldn’t even begin to presume how she felt. He imagined that she felt like she was sinking, being crushed beneath the heavy tide where even sunlight couldn’t reach. If she couldn’t talk about it yet, he could gladly offer her a distraction. He released her chin and stepped back to sit at the foot of the bed.

“Very well,” he agreed, gesturing for her to sit across from him in the cushioned desk chair. “You’ve heard many stories about my adventures at sea, but there’s one I’m afraid you’ll only be able to hear from me.”

She raised her brows at him, tucking her feet beneath the frilly skirt of her shift. “Was it before you were a pirate?”

“No.” Killian paused, mind screaming at him to keep it quiet, keep it to himself. He swallowed, clearing his head. “But it was before this. Or rather it’s the story of how this happened.”

He lifted his hook to her and her eyes widened slightly.

“Rumplestiltskin?”

“Aye,” he nodded. “It’s the story of my shared history with the Dark One, and in part how we both became what we are now.”

Her mouth popped open. “Are...are you the reason that Rumplestiltskin became the Dark One?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

Killian watched her tug a throw around her bare shoulders as she settled into the chair, expression cautiously neutral. How would she react to his story? To the true depth of the darkness in his heart? For a moment, he reconsidered the truth he’d chosen, the pall it might cast over her already troubled heart. He wanted nothing more than to protect her from those things, how could he bring this to her feet and expect her continued acceptance?

But how could she truly accept him unless she knew?

Before he could lose his nerve, he began.

“I’d just started trading in Neverland, still fresh off the heels of Liam’s death. My behavior during those years was less than respectable, and for all my belief that it wouldn’t, it caught up to me. We used to make port in a small city in the Enchanted Forest during the Ogre Wars. People were desperate for any bit of magic that could ease their suffering during those years, and Pan was happy to send us with cheap charms and baubles to turn a profit and keep him supplied. We’d usually spend a night or two in port, and it was on one of these trips that I met Milah.”

His voice broke. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d tasted her name on his tongue. Shame washed over him, and when he looked nervously at Emma, her eyes were glued to his forearm, right over the tattoo that bore Milah’s name. He fought the urge to hide it, to cover it up and never let it see the light of day again.

“I’ll spare you the details, but I offered her a life of adventure. She was married to a coward of a man who’d purposefully injured himself during the War to escape his service and she’d born a son of him. She couldn’t leave. But it didn’t keep her from coming back to the tavern each time I was in port.” He stared at the floor, unable to look at Emma, unable to bear the disappointment he would most certainly see in her face. “Eventually, from what I gathered, her relationship with the man had deteriorated and she accepted my offer. We were to leave the next morning when a man hobbled aboard my ship, asking after his wife. He said his name was Rumplestiltskin, and that he’d come to collect the mother of his child, but when I challenged him to a duel, he shied away. A man unwilling to fight for what he wants gets what he deserves, so I had him thrown onto the docks and I left with Milah.”

He swallowed again, the lump in his throat near unbearable. “We sailed for years across every known realm, and I fell in love with her. She’d always caught my fancy, but seeing her on the Jolly, with the crew...she was perfect, and I was in love. She saw me in my darkest days and she didn’t run away. Those were the happiest years of my life.”

“But then Pan sent us back to that port city where we’d met and we both knew it was a risk. We’d always planned to go back for her son, but we wanted to wait until we knew it was safe. We tried to get out of it, but Pan never loses. He’d sent us to meet with a buffoon who claimed to have a powerful object, but the whole situation reeked of treachery and I went alone. When I arrived, Rumplestiltskin was there, but I didn’t notice that he had changed until too late. He trapped me using his magic, and he told me that he’d become the Dark One to get his wife back from the pirate who stole her away. He believed she’d left unwillingly, and I did what I thought was right. I told him she was dead.”

His throat threatened to close up, to choke down the words that were coming as if it could stop the reality of what had already happened from escaping. Why was he telling her this?

“Did he believe you?” Emma’s tone was careful, urging him to continue.

“Aye, for a moment,” he answered. “But he challenged me to a duel to avenge her death and this time he was powerful. I couldn’t beat him.”

He lifted his gaze to her, brow arching at the memory of her golden hair shining in the sunlight above him as she’d held a sword to his throat when she’d beat him using her own power.

“And he cut off your hand?”

“No. He tried to rip my heart out.” He rubbed at his chest, as if he could feel that searing pain anew. “But Milah stopped him. She’d found the cretin we were supposed to meet stealing a magic bean from the Jolly and had come to tell me when she saw what happened and stopped the Dark One from killing me. She offered him the bean in exchange for our lives, and he came to the Jolly the next day for the trade. That’s when everything happened.”

She didn’t say anything this time, just watched as he collected himself. His shoulders slumped, voice barely above a whisper as he continued. “Milah and the crocodile got into an argument over their son, and the trade fell apart. She told him she’d never loved him and when he tried to forcefully take the bean from her, she threw it to me and he ripped her heart out for it.” He choked on a sob at the memory of Milah’s crumpled body lying in his arms, at her profession of love before she died, her life wiped away as the ashes of her heart scattered on the wind. Agony rippled through him, and it was all he could do to keep from sliding to the floor. “He crushed her heart and cut off my hand, thinking I was still holding the bean. I tried to kill him with the hook and he vanished. It wasn’t until after he’d gone that he realized I’d moved the bean. We buried Milah at sea, and the cretin who tried to steal the bean joined the crew. He’s still with us today. I’ve kept the hook since to remind myself how I got it, and to make the Crocodile pay for it.”

Emma sat for a while, processing all that he had shared. To his relief, she didn’t pass judgement or cast him away. She only asked, “Who was it? The cretin who’s still with you, I mean.”

Killian waved his hand at her. “Smee, of course. Slippery bastard.”

He heard a short intake of breath from across the room, but she said nothing as she nodded as if to say she should have known. He didn’t know if her silence was better or worse than rejection, but he didn’t dare speak again, afraid that one more word might show her the true darkness within his heart and send her running.

Wood creaked, and soft footsteps padded across the carpet until he saw her feet in front of him. He tipped his head back to look up at her from where he sat, shoulders still slumped painfully.

She looked down at him for a long moment before she sat thigh to thigh with him, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “I’m so sorry, Killian.”

Suddenly, he was back on that beach on a faraway island, utterly petrified that first time she’d ever touched him, when she’d laid her head upon his shoulder. He was afraid to move, afraid to end the contact, afraid that she might not want his embrace in return, especially after what he’d just revealed.

“I’m a villain, Emma,” he reminded her softly. “There will be no happy ending for me, only more death and unending darkness.”

That’s all there ever had been - death and the dark oblivion that consumed his soul, that had consumed his entire life. Perhaps all of his misfortunes were his doing, or the fault of whomever had pre-ordained his villainous ways. He didn’t know if that inner darkness could even permeate the world like that, but there were forces - the universe, the gods, magic - that he didn’t understand, and could never hope to.

Killian turned his head a fraction and silver lined Emma’s sea foam gaze. He longed to take those tears away, but before he could think of what to say, she whispered, “I don’t think that’s true.”

“How could you?” Gently, he tucked a stray pink curl behind her ear, focusing on the strand to keep from glancing at her all-too-near lips. “You’re a living embodiment of everything that’s good in this world. It’s not in your nature to think the worst of anyone.”

Something in her expression soured. “Being a hero doesn’t mean that you’re a good person all the time.”

“Is this a lecture on ethics?” he quipped playfully, pulling the corner of his mouth up in a smirk.

She rolled her eyes and let go of him, dropping her hands into her lap. Blue sparkled as her sapphire ring glinted in the morning light, and his heart tugged painfully with longing.

“No. I doubt I’m an expert on that,” she mumbled, shifting awkwardly against him. The air between them crackled, and he knew that whatever tension she held was beginning to manifest itself magically. During the long weeks that they’d been sailing, she hadn’t felt any inkling of her magic. He slid his hand over hers and hissed, finding her fingers colder than frozen steel.

She’d told him that her emotions caused her problems with magic - perhaps they could be a solution. Whatever was causing her unease, he needed to find a way to soothe it before she blew the inn to smithereens.

“Talk to me, love,” he pled, taking an icy hand in his own. He didn’t even know if trying to warm them would help, or if magic was even influenced in such ways.

For a moment, he was afraid she hadn’t heard him. Frost coated her fingertips and bit into Killian’s palms, but he didn’t dare let go, didn’t dare let his fear show. Finally, she spoke.

“What you and Milah had...I’ve never experienced that. I’ve never loved someone in that way.” Her breath curled in front of her as she talked. “True love has always been more of a dream to me than anything, and to have that ripped away from you? I can’t imagine how that must have felt for you. The truth is that my parents are the closest thing I’ve ever had to true love, and the possibility that we might find them today with so much still unknown terrifies me. But the possibility of not finding them at all? I can’t stomach the idea that this might all just be some trap that Rumplestiltskin laid out for us and that they’re actually gone.”

Killian’s fingers tingled with icy numbness as her own warmed slightly, but the frost around her fingernails remained. “Do you feel like the crocodile was lying?”

Her eyes snapped to his. “What?”

“Your superpower,” he clarified. “You told me once that you could tell when someone was lying to you. Was he lying when he gave you the compass?”

“No,” she said, brows scrunching. “No, it felt like he was telling the truth.”

“And do you feel like your parents are actually gone?”

A long pause. “No.”

He didn’t know if her answer came from a place of hope or stubbornness, but he smiled all the same. “If you lose someone that important to you, you would know. You would feel it. If you think they’re alive, Swan, then they’re out there.”

Water droplets pooled his palm as the frost melted from her hands. “You can’t know that.”

“Why not?”

She opened her mouth to respond, then closed it again, considering.

Light began to twinkle in her eyes once more, but she narrowed them, her hand now warm and soggy in his. “I think you give yourself too much credit, Jones.”

“I think you simply don’t give me enough,

Mrs. Jones.

”

A furious blush crept up her neck, and in that moment, he would have given anything to brush his nose along the heat of it.

Hopeless fool.

He stood and hooked the handle of her garment box, letting it dangle between them.

“Shall we see what you think passes for fashion in this miserable city?”
 
***
 
Shockingly, what she thought passed for fashion wasn’t completely outlandish by his standards. Indeed, as they walked along cramped alleyways to wherever the compass was leading them, Killian noticed that Emma looked rather neutral compared to the local ladies. Or, as neutral as the most stunning woman he’d ever laid eyes on could be in such a gown. The silken red skirts swished around her as she walked, and though the cut was simple, she turned heads as they passed shop windows and crowded merchant stands.

Not that she noticed, of course, but Killian was quietly satisfied at the fact that every man in the city gawked after her like a dumbstruck child.

“Come on,” Emma beseeched, vaguely checking behind her to see if he was still following her breakneck pace before looking back at the compass.

They’d walked nearly two miles since they’d left the inn, and it was becoming clear that they’d left the main shopping district. Spotless glass displays full of various goods changed to small windowed doors advertising lawyers and accountants, with small stationary stores or grocers scattered here and there.

Killian was near panting by the time Emma halted at the mouth of a narrow alley, peering at a single door at the dead end.

“There,” she whispered. “They’re in there.”

He peeked over her shoulder at the compass. The needle was pointed resolutely at the peeling door at the end of the alley, painted with chipped gold letters that were long since indecipherable. It was odd, Killian thought - he hadn’t seen anything this ramshackle in Soria, even on their walk into town.

“After you,” he said softly with a bow.

Hesitantly, Emma stepped into the alley, and he looked over his shoulder, straining his ears for following footsteps. Only the idle chatter of birds and the far away sound of waves crashing against the wharf filled the air, and he trailed her into the passage. His hand remained on the hilt of his sword, just in case.

As they approached the doorway, a small window beside the dilapidated door came into view. It was a shop, Killian realized. Judging by the random assortment of knick knacks piled on the table, it was a secondhand shop where people could pawn off their trinkets when they were in need of a coin or two. There were ports where Killian would have been ecstatic to see a shop like this, but here, it likely wouldn’t hold anything of great value. Or at least at first glance. China figurines and lace doilies weren’t the kind of treasure that usually kept these shops running.

Emma turned, glancing nervously at him, before checking the compass one last time and handing it to him.

“It’s a shop.”

“Aye,” he breathed. She looked completely unconvinced, but the compass hadn’t changed it’s mind and he snapped it shut. He tucked it away carefully in his coat and nodded as confidently as he could, then reached around her and opened the door.

A bell tinkled about their heads as they stepped inside, and they both took in their surroundings as he closed the door behind them. The shop was as narrow as the alleyway, and cluttered shelves lined the walls from the floor to the ceiling, containing countless baubles and trinkets. Only three or four people could comfortably fit inside the building, and Killian noted that the door they’d come through seemed to be the only entrance. There didn’t seem to be much of a place to hide anyone in here unless these bookshelves concealed corridors, but the outside of the building hadn’t seemed big enough to hold any intricate architecture like that.

“What can I do for a fine couple such as yourselves today?”

Killian’s attention snapped to the slim blonde woman leaning casually against a small counter in the back of the shop. He smirked as he took her in - her eyes were chocolate brown, offset by the heavy rouge on her cheeks and the pouty expression on her mouth. His eyes wandered over her body, the gown that was tucked and pleated within an inch of its life that Emma would have certainly labeled as another monstrosity. But Killian had gleaned exactly what he’d needed from her appearance and posture - she was a shameless flirt and he would use it to their advantage.

He returned his gaze to her own and found those brown eyes dancing with amusement. “Milady,” he greeted.

“Vivienne.” She politely dipped her chin to him, eyes dropping coyly to the floor. “Or Viv, if you’d like,” she added with a wink as she dragged her eyes along his body in return.

Emma didn’t miss the exchange and cleared her throat, glaring up at him out of the corner of her eye. “Good morning, Vivienne,” she ground out.

Vivienne’s eyes finally shot to Emma and she surveyed her with cool distaste. If the shopkeeper knew the woman she was glaring down was a princess, Killian doubted she would have acted much differently. Her chin jutted out proudly as she noted Emma’s obvious annoyance, then took in her dress. Her eyes widened almost imperceptibly as they fell on the sapphire ring on Emma’s finger. “Madame,” she replied with forced indifference.

Frustration rolled off of Emma in waves, and she stepped closer to him, looping her arm through his elbow, that ring now on full display. A smile tugged at his lips.

Interesting.

“We’re looking for someone,” Emma said lightly, though her face remained hard.

“I’m afraid I can’t help you,” Vivienne replied, voice dripping with quiet venom. “As you can see, it’s just me here.”

Emma sucked in a breath, likely to say something that would get them both in trouble, and he squeezed her fingers pointedly.

“Apologies, love. We’re tired from a long journey. This is Leia, and my name is Jack.” The lie rolled smoothly off his tongue, and Vivienne perked up as her attention returned to him. “I think what my wife means to say is that we were supposed to meet someone around here and we are afraid that we may have mixed up the location. Is there another room or even an inn down this street?”

Suspicion flashed in her eyes, but she smiled sweetly at him. “No, there isn’t. My shop is the only thing this way.”

“I see.” Killian scraped a tooth along his bottom lip, and Vivienne’s gaze snagged on the motion, just as a hundred ladies had done before her. Emma’s hold on his arm tightened, and she scoffed through her nose.

Killian tried to dismiss it, though her jealousy thrilled him to no end. He had to think. The compass had brought them to this shop, and Emma’s greatest desire had been to find her parents. Surely, there had to be

something

here.

“Tell me, Viv, what’s behind this building?”

“A lumber yard,” Vivienne shrugged, eyes twinkling as they surveyed him again.

Killian snuck a glance at Emma, whose frustration had now fully given way to anger. Her lips were thin as she grumbled, “You’re hiding something.”

“Excuse me?”

“I know you’re hiding something, they’re supposed to be here. The compass said-”

“That’s enough,” Killian commanded, warning evident in his tone.

Vivienne watched them with a triumphant expression, but Emma looked up at him, jaw set and eyes narrow. A lesser man would have run out the door, but he stood his ground, begging whatever gods that would listen that she wouldn’t blow their cover.

Though her expression was hard, hurt flashed in her eyes and Killian’s knees almost went weak at the sight of it.

“Seems like there’s nothing you can help me with after all,” she said to Vivienne, though her eyes never left his.

“Come back any time.” Sarcasm dripped from the shopkeeper’s tone, but Killian continued to stare down at Emma, silently trying to apologize for his rudeness.

Emma didn’t bother responding. Turning on a heel, she stomped to the door. Her fingers were already on the door handle when her head snapped to the table in front of the window, eyes locked on some object he couldn’t distinguish.

“What is that.” It was less a question than a demand, and she stepped up to the table.

In front of her, buried amongst the heap of crap, laid a beautiful, slender sword. The hilt was a twist of polished steel and gold around a crimson leather grip, but what was so remarkable about the weapon was the scabbard - the same crimson leather as the grip, inlaid with delicate gold detailing. Only the finest of smiths could create detail so seamlessly. It must have been worth a fortune. Judging by Emma’s reaction, she knew the blade, but how?

“Ah, that was left here just yesterday morning,” Vivienne drawled, hips swaying as she approached from behind the counter with a wink at Killian.

Killian’s face remained stony, a frown audible in his voice as he asked, “By whom, lass?”

“Some strange couple,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand.

Her parents.

If Emma knew this blade that had been left here by a pair of strangers, it had to be a sign from her parents.

Vivienne picked up the sword and Emma almost lunged for it. Only Killian’s hand, suddenly at her back, kept her from launching at the woman. “Odd business, really.

They

paid

me

to take this off of them.”

“Why.” Again, not a question, but Killian could almost hear Emma’s heart roaring in her ears, gears spinning so fast in her head that he was afraid she’d burst.

“How am I to know,” Vivienne snapped.

Killian stepped forward, voice crackling with ice as he threatened, “Answer her.”

At least the wench had enough brains to look afraid. “I don’t know why,” she amended with a slightly apologetic look at Emma. “They just told me that I wasn’t to sell it. They said someone would come looking for it, and that they had to give me some turn of phrase, something special to their family to return it to them.”

“Turn of phrase?” Killian’s expression turned thoughtful. “Is it a riddle?”

“No,” Vivienne replied, pursing her lips. “They said that they had a message for whoever would come looking for it, but that the person who needed to hear it would be able to guess what it was.”

Emma was silent, eyes fixed upon the floor, and he grazed his fingers over the small of her back to make sure she was breathing. What was this sword? Why was it causing such a reaction?

“Look, I don’t want any trouble-”

“Silence,” Killian cut the shopkeeper off, carefully watching Emma. “Swan?”

“

I will always find you,

” she whispered, looking up with live flames in those blue-green eyes. “The message - it’s ‘I will always find you.’”

Vivienne frowned, then nodded and extended her arm to Emma, sword hanging loosely from her fingers. “Yours, I believe.”

Emma took the sword, and without another word, jerked the door open and left the shop, blade clenched tightly in her grasp. Killian followed her into the deserted alley, then into the crowded street beyond. She didn’t stop marching with that steely resolve until she’d reached their room back at the inn, where she only stopped long enough for him to produce the key and unlock the door for her. She stood in the center of the room for a long moment, just staring at the object in her hands, as though she couldn’t believe it was real.

“Forgive me, Swan,” Killian started, brows pinched together as he checked the bathroom for intruders and closed the door once he was satisfied it was clear. “But what is that?”

“How

dare

you speak to me like that!” she seethed, whirling on him as soon as the door clicked shut. He crossed the room as he winced, checking the bathroom for maids and closed that door behind him too.

“Swan, I meant nothing by it. I was simply trying to keep the lass from learning too much. And, if you want the truth, I was trying to keep her safe from a sound beating from you.”

Her nostrils flared. “I’m not some wild animal!”

“No! I never said that! But you can’t deny that you have a temper that can rival even mine, and you let it slip back there. We can’t risk people knowing why we’re here.”

“I know that,” she snapped, finally releasing him from her icy glare.

“I apologize, Emma. I was only trying to keep you safe.”

Whether she truly accepted the apology or not, she nodded and sat on the edge of the bed. It was likely as close to her letting it go as he would get right now, and he needed answers more.

“What is that, love?” he repeated, gesturing to her sword.

“It’s my sword,” she answered simply, and her tone suggested that there would be no further explanation given at present. Fine.

The number of questions buzzing around in his head made him absolutely dizzy. “How did you know what the message would be?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know.” Emma glanced up at him, expression indiscernible. “It’s a...thing, I guess. They used to say that to each other when they were separated or the odds were against them. I figured it was appropriate.”

Killian paused for a moment, considering. Of course, he knew the story of Snow White and Prince Charming’s strange and troubled romance - it was stuff of legend. But he supposed that very few would have known enough detail to have claimed the sword. Satisfied, he moved on to the next thought before he burst. “I thought the compass was going to lead us

to

your parents, not to something they left behind for you.”

She shook her head, once more staring at the sword as if it would disappear at any moment. “Maybe I was focusing too hard on finding the

way

to find my parents, not necessarily finding them. Magic is weird like that.”

“So...how is this going to help us find your parents?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted, finally looking at him fully.

He watched as she worried her bottom lip, completely lost in thought. How any of this was connected, he had no idea. He could only begin to guess at what that bloody weapon meant. Would they have to fight their way to her parents? What enemies could possibly stand in the way of a family that everyone believed to be dead? Or was it a trick of the Dark One, meant to drive her mad on some endless quest to find what she wanted most? He was about to voice his concerns when she quietly unsheathed the sword and a neatly folded slip of paper fluttered to the ground.

Wide eyed, Emma’s jaw dropped and the blade thudded as it landed on the thick carpet, discarded in shock. Slowly, she stooped to pick up the letter and unfolded it with trembling hands.

He pushed off the wall and joined her, crouching down to read the letter over her shoulder. An elegant, feminine scrawl lined the page.

Well done. We knew you’d find it.

Now it’s time to find each other.

The page rustled as she flipped it over. Drawn on the back of the paper was a map, and Killian was more than a little impressed at the handiwork. It was coded, and very few people would have been able to decipher it.

Unable to help his curiosity, Killian breathed, “Where did your mother learn how to do this?”

“The bandit days,” she answered, as though that were a completely normal answer to give. He supposed to her, it was. “How far away do you think this is?”

Killian studied the map for a moment longer, noting the significant landmarks and guessing from his memory of the map they’d studied while still on the Jolly. “A full day’s journey, maybe less if we move quickly.”

She nodded once then looked at him. The breath whooshed from his lungs at the sight of her face. All trace of worry and grief that he had beheld the past months had vanished, and the woman he’d met over a year ago was back. Steely resolve and playful confidence rang in her words as she stared him down and declared, “Let’s go find my family.”
 
***
 
The compass had confirmed the map’s accuracy, and within minutes their room at the inn had been emptied and paid for. Just before midday, they were back in the forest outside of Soria, retrieving their stashed clothes and supplies. Killian dusted off his leather jacket and folded it into his satchel, waiting for Emma to emerge from behind a dense shrub once more. He shuffled back and forth, kicking a rock with the toe of his boot, desperate to alleviate even a bit of his nervous energy.

He’d met many kings and queens of the realm before, but none of them had been the parents of the woman he fancied - who, coincidentally, he had kidnapped a year ago.

Many sources on the seas in the days he’d planned Emma’s abduction had told him that Queen Snow was gentle and fair, but the survivor in him knew that no one could weather the wrath of the Evil Queen without being deadly and cunning in their own way. And her father...he was a warrior of some repute, and though his days of adventuring seemed to be behind him, palace guards still whispered of his skill with a sword. In fact, he’d heard a select few men were still trained by him to protect his family and were considered to be the most elite warriors in the kingdom.

So the only question, Killian supposed, was which one of Emma’s parents would kill him first.

Twigs cracked underfoot as Emma, now donning her pants and shirt, approached with a smile. “You’re not changing?”

Killian cleared his throat. “No.” He surveyed his brown coat and tailored pants. If he was honest, he didn’t hate the look, but it didn’t have the same level of comfort as his usual ensemble. Unfortunately, pirate garb would likely not garner any favor from Emma’s parents, so he’d decided to stick with this one. He needed any help he could get. “A gentleman always puts his best foot forward.”

Emma raised a brow, dumping her dress into the same hollowed out tree they’d used before. “Since when were you so concerned with royal opinions?”

Since you came into my life, apparently,

he thought to himself, but he only offered her a shrug.

“If I didn’t know better,” she surveyed, adjusting a sleeve as they began walking, “I’d say you were nervous.”

It was an effort not to flinch at her ability to read him like a bloody open book. “What would I have to be nervous about?”

“Oh, just meeting the people who put a very generous bounty on your head,” she sang. “Or even a sword to the throat. Or an arrow through the eye. Or-”

“Fine,” he interrupted, finding himself unable to find a witty retort to her list of ways he might soon die. “You’ve made your point.”

She huffed, braid swinging as she walked beside him. “You’re no fun today.”

He cut her a look from the corner of his eye. “I’m exactly as much fun as I am any other day.”

“That’s just not true,” she quipped, unable to hide her new-found bubbly attitude behind an ingenuine frown.

Normally, he would have been thrilled with her change in humor after weeks of such melancholy, but he couldn’t bring himself to think past his nerves. He should be happy for her - she was about to experience something that he could only dream about. He’d be this excited too if he was sure to be reunited with a lost loved one. But the precarious nature of their relationship, that precious new bond they shared, was hanging in the balance, and he couldn’t see how finding her parents might help him strengthen that bond at all. All he saw was a future where he would be torn from her, and though he knew it would be best to let go and accept it, he simply couldn’t.

That didn’t mean, however, that he couldn’t enjoy their last few hours alone together.

“Apologies, Your Highness,” he said with a sweeping bow, forcing a smile onto his face. “Now let’s see. If

I

didn’t know any better, fair princess, I would say you were jealous earlier today with sweet Vivienne.”

She rolled her eyes emphatically at him, but the beaming smile she fixed him with was so genuine that his heart stumbled a beat. In fact, she almost seemed to shimmer, as if she was wreathed in some ethereal glow that stemmed from her happiness, the bright twin to the living shadows he’d seen all those months ago.

“I was not jealous.”

She couldn’t have been less convincing if she’d tried.

“Oh yeah?” He raised his brows at her. “You sure

seemed

jealous.”

Her answering scoff was half-hearted at best. “So what if I was?”

“It would be very...interesting, that’s all,” he commented casually.

“I couldn’t very well have had it look like my fake husband had wandering eyes right in front of me, could I?”

He grinned at her, wagging his eyebrows. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

The sun arced across the sky as they talked, and by the time the shadows grew long and they were forced to stop for the night, Killian had to admit that he was in much better spirits than when they’d started their journey.

They ate their simple rations in companionable silence, and as they settled into the soft grass of the clearing they’d found, Killian watched Emma fidget with her sword from where they lay, side by side next to the crackling fire. He’d positioned himself between the princess and the darkness beyond, claiming that he wanted her to be warm through the night. If he would have told her it was for her protection, she would have laughed in his face and probably slept out there.

“Where did you get that sword?”

Earlier, he had noted the fine craftsmanship and knew that no one short of the nobility would have been able to afford it, but she didn’t seem the type to shop for such extravagance on her own.

“I won it,” she answered, beaming with pride. “My father trained me in combat himself, and we had all of these ridiculous competitions. Once I started improving, he taught me how to show off a little, and when I was finally good enough to have a real sword of my own, he awarded me with the scabbard. I had to earn the blade later.”

“Ah,” he breathed, smiling slightly. This princess, this woman, would be the death of him. She had all the riches anyone could dream of, and yet her most prized possession was a symbol of hard work and even harder-earned respect. “It’s a fine blade.”

“Yes,” she agreed, fingers idly tracing the hilt. “Yours isn’t too shabby, either. You said it was your brother’s, right?”

“Aye, it was.” He glanced at his own sword, discarded between them.

The memory of Liam’s smile when he’d been awarded the blade flashed in his mind, and the pain must have shown in his face. Emma softly asked, “Why did you keep it? Isn’t it a painful reminder?”

He studied her for a long moment, then quirked a brow. “We’ve shared a particularly painful truth already today, Swan. Are you prepared to pay for this one as well?”

“With another truth?”

“Perhaps,” he shrugged nonchalantly. “Or perhaps we can make things interesting.”

“I like interesting.” She didn’t take her eyes from his as her expression turned mischievous.

The tips of his ears burned at the heat of her stare -

it’s just the fire, mate

- but he didn’t dare look away from her as he propped himself on an elbow. “As do I,” he hummed. “I also like surprises. How about I tell you why I kept my brother’s sword, and in exchange you bestow me with a reward you see fit?”

Her voice was soft, though anything but weak, as she responded, “Deal.”

“I kept this blade,” he began, watching the flame dance upon her still-pink hair, “because for a long time I felt like I needed a piece of Liam. I feared that without something to hold onto, I would forget him. Then I realized I never could, and the sword became a symbol.”

“A symbol of what?” Genuine curiosity lined her face, as it always did when he regaled her with tales of his past, and his eyes crinkled with a shy smile.

“Of Liam, what he valued. And what he would have wanted for me,” he answered. “Each time I choose to wield it, I’m forced to consider what he would have thought of my actions.”

“So,” she drawled, a sarcastic look of disbelief on her face, “the sword is your conscience?”

“More or less,” he conceded with a grimace. “For years, that rage that fuelled me dulled the voice,

his

voice. I was lost in grief and darkness, and I couldn’t - or wouldn’t - hear it. But now...now more than ever, I hear it. And I listen.”

Emma’s expression turned contemplative. “What changed?”

His smile faltered as he considered what

had

really changed for him.

Don’t say it don’t say it don’t say it -

“You.”

You fucking idiot.

Cheeks burning, he tried to make himself smile again, to say something else, to distract her from that monumental truth with anything he could, but his candor rendered even him speechless. Seconds ticked by as she watched him, and so many emotions swam in her eyes that he couldn’t decipher a single one. He was so desperately trying to figure out what she was thinking that he almost missed her movement as she pushed herself up onto her elbows and kissed him.

Time stood still, and only the crackle of the fire a world away kept Killian from completely sinking into utter oblivion as his eyes fluttered shut. Her lips were soft and warm against his, and somehow with a still-functioning corner of his mind, he lifted his hand to her face, stroking his thumb over her cheek as his fingers twined in her silky hair. Only fear of ending this perfect moment kept Killian’s self-control intact, and he fought to keep his kiss as gentle as hers, allowing her,

just this once

, take the lead.

After a moment and an eternity, Emma slowly pulled back and opened her eyes. He struggled not to follow her, not to claim her lips once more, and the open longing on her face nearly made it impossible.

She wanted him

.

The realization clanged through him and his breath hitched.

Killian could see it plain as day, and his heart soared higher than he’d ever remembered. Her eyes were like slivers around her large pupils, darting between his own, and he dared another stroke of his thumb across her heated cheeks as he breathed, “Emma.”

A strangled sound came from the back of her throat and she sat up suddenly. He swore in surprise, but wrapped his arm around her, hook coming to rest on her hip as she swung herself into his lap and kissed him again, her hands fisted in his hair.

Her mouth was hungry, insistent against his and he stifled a moan, that too-thin leash on his self-control finally snapping. He threaded his fingers into the hair at the back of her head, anchoring her mouth to his as he tilted her face down to provide better access as he gently swiped his tongue across her bottom lip. He heard her breath catch, but she obeyed his request, allowing his tongue to sweep in and deepen the kiss.

There was no magic in any realm, he knew, that could replicate this feeling.

She wanted him.

Just this morning, he’d lamented the fact that she would never feel as he did, and now…

Emma’s teeth scraped across his tongue, then his lower lip, and he hummed appreciatively, pulling her body closer to his own.

She sighed at the contact, nails scraping gently down his scalp as she moved to grasp his lapels. The possessiveness in the touch nearly drove Killian out of his mind, and he rolled, cradling her head as he lowered her to the ground, lips still moving against hers as though he were trying to memorize every brush of their skin. He settled atop her, breath ragged as he pulled his mouth from hers and trailed searing kisses across her jaw and down her throat. Her chest heaved breathlessly, and over two hundred years of experience was barely enough to keep his lips from exploring lower, to remind himself to take his time and let her lead.

He glanced at her color stained face, and the longing he’d found in her eyes earlier had turned to brazen desire so clear he thought he might burn with it. Gods knew he felt the same. His gaze dropped to her lips and before he knew it, his own were once more upon them, more gently this time, their earlier hunger now appeased. His hand trailed from her hair, down her neck, her ribs, her waist, and he lingered on the soft sweep of her hip before sliding his fingers around the back of her knee and coaxing it up so that he could settle between her legs. Chests now pressed firmly together, he could feel the rasp of her breath beneath him as they slowly kissed, exploring each other.

She wanted him.

And there was nothing in the world that could keep her from him.

There would be no magic too powerful, no villain too strong, no obstacle too big to keep him from winning her heart now that he knew she felt something for him.

Killian nearly groaned as he tore his mouth from hers, and for a long moment, they laid there, letting the world filter back in detail by detail. The fire had nearly died out, and a calm breeze had chilled the night air around them. Their breaths curled into mist between them, and Killian searched for something,

anything

, to say.

“That...was -”

“A one time thing,” she croaked, looking not at all convinced by her own words.

He smirked at her, eyes flicking down to her kiss-swollen lips, before winking and rolling off of her. “As you wish,” he replied as casually as he could, lying down on his back with his hand tucked behind his head. “Good night, love.”

“Good night,” she whispered, breathing still uneven as she looked up at the stars through the dense canopy above. Killian smiled to himself at that, and he listened as her breathing evened out and deepened. Once she was asleep, he pressed his fingers to his lips, trying to convince himself that this wasn’t some fever dream, but a new, strange reality.

Quietly, he removed his coat and placed it over Emma’s sleeping form before stoking the fire and sitting against a tree next to her.

His heart still raced wildly in his chest.

She wanted him.

Whether tonight was the result of some emotional high or genuine interest in him, the desire he’d seen from her was real.

She

had kissed

him

first. That meant something.

Long into the night and well after dawn broke, he sat awake, thinking and planning, afraid that if he went to sleep, he would wake up to find that all of it was a dream. He would win her heart, but he would do it with honor and chivalry, in a way that would have made Liam proud.

He was deep in thought, wondering what Liam might have felt about his princess, when Emma stirred beneath his heavy coat.

“What time is it?” she mumbled, eyes still screwed shut against the watery early morning light.

“An hour or so past dawn,” he whispered. He smiled as he watched her rouse. “You’re a real grump in the mornings, aren’t you, love?”

She barked a curse at him and he laughed softly, but didn’t comment further as she sat up and wiped her eyes. It wasn’t until he’d offered her an apple and it had been totally consumed before he spoke again. “Has the compass changed?”

As though she had forgotten, she sprang to action, ripping the map and the compass from his satchel and scrambling to find their bearings. A heartbeat later, her shoulders sagged in relief. “No. They should be a few hours that way,” she said, jerking her head to the left.

“Well then,” he grunted, dusting his pants as he got to his feet. “Shall we?”

Emma looked up at him, meeting his eyes for the first time, and she blushed furiously. He felt his own cheeks heat at the memory of last night before she cleared her throat and said, “Yeah.”

They quickly packed up their camp, and set off along an empty, overgrown road.

For a long time they didn’t speak beyond vague comments on the weather and the scenery. They stopped once for water, and once more for a snack, but in their awkward silence, Killian replayed last night’s events over and over in his mind. He could still feel her lips on his, and he wondered if she felt the same, if she was still burning from the inside as he was, but he couldn’t find a way to ask.

They’d been walking for nearly two hours in loaded silence when he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Emma, about last night -”

SNAP.

Killian and Emma both screamed as a moss-covered net closed around them and snatched them into the air. Emma thrashed and screamed and kicked against him, and his teeth sang as the back of her skull collided with his nose.

“Calm down, love. Quiet,” he shushed her, blinking back tears of pain as he scrambled to take in their surroundings.

It was nearly impossible to orient himself as the trap swung wildly with their momentum. The glimpses he caught of the road ahead was still clear, and he craned his neck to look behind when he heard a deep voice rumble with laughter below them.

“I thought you would have paid more attention.”

Emma went still, then choked back a sob.

“Yeah,” chimed in a soft, feminine voice. “I thought we taught you better than that.”

Tears streaked down Emma’s face, and the sound of steel severing rope filled his ears as they plummeted mid-swing to the ground.

Emma’s elbow landed in his stomach, and he gasped for air, but she was on her feet faster than a cat, desperately clawing her way free from the net.

“Mom!” Her strangled cry was halfway between a sob and a laugh, and Killian desperately tried to force air into his lungs as he watched Emma embrace a dark haired woman that truly fit every description he’d ever heard of the huntress Snow White. “Dad!”

As the broad-shouldered blond man threw his arms around Emma, Killian caught his breath and got to his feet, untangling himself from the tangle of rope as he did. He took a few cautious steps toward the family reunion, the so-called Prince Charming’s back squarely to him. He was almost afraid that Emma had forgotten he was here, when she suddenly broke free from her parents’ embrace. They all turned to face him, and Snow and Charming’s faces were utterly shocked as they took him in.

“Right. Mom, Dad, this is -”

“YOU!”

Faster than he could react, Charming launched himself at Killian. He didn’t even have time to brace himself before the prince’s fist connected with Killian’s nose with a sickening crunch, and he knew no more.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“Dad!”

“Charming!”

Emma lurched forward as Killian’s body hit the ground with a limp thud. Blood poured down the sides of his face, and she fell to her knees beside him. She shook his shoulders, trying to wake him to no avail.

“Why would you do that!” Snow whirled on David.

Fury was etched into his features as he looked between his wife and daughter, then gestured to Killian. “What was I supposed to do? Say a friendly hello to the man who has taken our daughter from us not once, but twice?”

She was going to vomit. Emma’s head was swimming, turning in uncontrollable circles. How could this have gone so poorly so quickly? Her body couldn’t process it - the fear, the relief, the elation, the shock she had experienced in the last few moments. Her parents’ words were little more than muffled ringing in her ears as she looked down at Killian, watching his chest rise and fall.

Snow’s brows furrowed, but she turned her attention to Killian’s unconscious form. “Wait - that’s…”

“Captain Hook,” David finished for her, nostrils flaring as Killian groaned.

Eyes wide, Snow looked to her daughter. “Emma! Why-”

Emma snapped back to reality as her mother said her name. She stood suddenly stepping over the bloody, rousing pirate and advancing on her parents. “What do you mean, ‘not once but twice’?”

David’s anger faltered, confusion replacing the fury in his eyes. “Well, we thought-”

“The ball! Those men that stormed the palace were just a distraction so he could take you again,” Snow explained, brows furrowed once more.

Emma laughed incredulously. “No.”

David took a step toward her, palms out in front of him as though he were approaching a wild animal. “I don’t know what he’s told you, Emma, but-”

“He hasn’t told me anything because there’s nothing to tell.” She fixed her parents with a hard stare as Killian groaned once more behind her.

A look passed between Snow and David, then they both nodded, a silent conversation down that bond of True Love that no one else could hope to understand. “What do you mean?” Snow asked hesitantly.

“He didn’t kidnap me. Well, not this time anyway.”

David’s voice was low, threatening. “Then who did?”

“No one.” She nearly choked, not wanting to admit the truth, the shame that it would bring once they knew she’d left them to die. But she looked back at Killian, those impossibly blue eyes fixed on her from the ground as he held his swollen nose, and knew she had to tell the truth. “I ran.”

Snow’s mouth fell open, but Emma heard the air whoosh from David’s lungs in relief. “Thank the gods.”

Her knees almost gave out as he wrapped her in another crushing embrace, and tears stung her eyes as she explained, “They were everywhere and they tried to take me and I knew I had to run.” She panted the words between her sobs, half from relief and half from the dire need to release even just one of her emotions to keep from bursting. “I’d heard you mention that the Jolly Roger was sighted in port that morning and I knew it might be the only place that they wouldn’t follow.”

David pulled back, and to Emma’s surprise, Snow was smiling at her. “That was brilliant,” she whispered.

Out of all the words she’d expected to hear about her choice that night, ‘brilliant’ hadn’t been one of them. Stupid, short-sighted, foolish - those were how she herself had been describing it. “You’re not...mad?”

“Of course not!” they cried.

“You did what you had to do to get back to us,” Snow said softly.

“You could have picked better company though,” David muttered, jaw clenched as he watched Killian sit up behind them.

Emma raised her eyebrows at Killian in silent question.

Are you okay?

He nodded at her, but grimaced in pain at the motion.

“Wait,” Emma said, turning back to her parents, realization dawning. “You thought Killian did all of this?”

David’s eyes widened. “

Killian?”

Snow gave him a warning look. “Of course we did! Who else would it have been?”

As her final words slowly slipped from her now frowning mouth, they all fell into stunned silence.

All these months, and Emma still didn’t know who had tried to kill her family that night. She’d guessed and dismissed each notion she’d come up with, but in the last weeks, she figured that once she was reunited with her parents, all of the puzzle pieces would fall into place. Now that they had no idea…

“And you’re sure he hasn’t just been lying to you?” David raised his eyebrows at Emma like he always did when he wanted her to really think about a problem from all angles during their strategy lessons.

But she’d already spent months considering that question. She didn’t have a single doubt in her mind as she squared her shoulders and answered, “Yes.”

She could feel Killian’s stunned gaze on her back, but she didn’t take her eyes off of David’s.

He weighed her stare before narrowing his eyes over her shoulder. “What do you have to say about it, pirate?”

Emma released a breath and turned to see Killian stand on wobbly legs. “If it had been me, mate,” he swayed but remained upright, voice stuffy and eyes bright, “I would have actually finished the job.”

A smile tugged at the corner of Emma’s mouth, but she fought it with every fiber of her being as the men stared each other down, each legendary figures in their own right, each vying for dominion over the situation.

“Somehow I just don’t find that comforting,

pirate,

” David spat, and that glimmer of amusement Emma had felt was gone entirely, replaced by cold dread as a look of pure wrath shone in Killian’s eyes. She wasn’t the only one to notice the shift - out of the corner of her eye, she saw Snow raise her bow a fraction of an inch, preparing herself for a fight.

For a heartbeat, Emma didn’t know which side she would take in that fight.

And then she did.

She thought of Liam’s sword, left to lay between them while they slept around a campfire on a deserted island when no one had any reason to trust her. That simple sign of faith after everything she had put them through had made it possible for her to get where they were today.

He

had made it possible for

all

of them to get here.

Emma took a step forward, between the seething men, and faced her father. “That’s enough.”

David’s fiery gaze cut to her, and for a moment he looked dumbfounded, eyes flicking between Emma and the man behind her. She refused to dip her chin or avert her gaze, but neither did her father, the very source of her own stubborn will. “Is there something we need to know?”

Refusing still to look away, she gestured behind her. “If it wasn’t for that

pirate

, I wouldn’t be here. I very likely wouldn’t even be alive.” She turned around and briefly glimpsed raw, unchecked emotion in Killian’s eyes, his anger now leashed once more. “He saved my life, and he’s been helping me get back to you. I think he’s earned our trust.”

“He may have earned

your

trust,” David said as Emma returned her attention to him, “but he has a long way to go with me.”

“But,” Snow cut in, placing a firm hand on his arm, “we are willing to give him - you - a chance.” She gave Killian an apologetic look, then fixed David with a stern one. “Aren’t we?”

David didn’t respond. He only shrugged off Snow’s touch and jerked his chin at Emma. “What’s the plan?”

“What?”

“The plan,” he repeated to her, dipping behind a tree to pick up a rather large satchel of supplies. “Since you’ve got everything else figured out, I assume you have one.”

His cold words cut her, and she stood frozen to the spot. She felt Killian take a step toward her, and she almost expected to feel his comforting touch on her lower back. He’d started doing that recently, and it had become a habit she’d grown quite fond of. But he didn’t touch her - he only moved closer to remind her of his presence, as if he knew her father had wounded her.

Snow looked sympathetically at Emma and shook her head, offering a small smile. “He’s just cranky because he missed breakfast.”

Emma dipped her chin briefly at her mother, willing her face to remain expressionless, and cleared her throat. “From here we go back to the Jolly Roger,” she announced. “We’ll fill each other in on what we know and figure out a plan from there, but for now, we go back to the ship.”

“Absolutely not!” David exclaimed, a hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

“Do you have a better plan that you’ve been holding back on?” The quiet venom in Snow’s tone had everyone’s eyes now upon her.

“Well, no,” he said defensively, “but I can sure as hell come up with one better than going back to a pirate ship with this criminal.”

“Former criminal, mate,” Killian ground out through his teeth behind her.

David narrowed his eyes. “Once a pirate, always a pirate,

mate.

”

“Are you always going to be governing my choices from the shadows?”

Emma’s voice was cold and flat, and she felt everyone’s attention shift from their queen to her. Her father’s face faltered, and she knew she’d struck him where it counted. “Emma, that’s not what this is about.”

“Isn’t it?” She cocked her head, fingers gripping the pommel of her sword so tightly her knuckles screamed. “You’ve made it clear you don’t trust Killian, and that’s fine. I’m not asking you to. But out of the both of us,

I

am the only one with an escape plan, and you don’t even trust me enough to get us out of here and on our way to our kingdom, where innocent people need our help. Apparently, you’d rather sit here with no plan, no information, and no hope of finding either in the middle of this forest than show that you trust your own daughter. So don’t tell me this isn’t about your lack of trust in my abilities.”

Her chest heaved, her erratic breathing filling the silence between them all. She hadn’t realized how much she’d needed to say that to him, to tell him that she was tired of being treated like she was a confused girl in need of help. She was going to replace them one day, and she had never been treated like it, not in their strategy lessons or by their court or by anyone.

Gone was the helpless girl who couldn’t control her own powers and needed to be hidden away. Gone was the princess who had once lacked confidence in herself and her own abilities. Emma had survived more than she’d ever hoped to, and her own wit and determination to save her people and her parents had gotten her this far. She refused to let a few terse words from her father stop them from saving their kingdom the best way she knew how.

“Emma, honey, you have to calm down-”

“Why?” She threw her hands up in question. “Because you’re afraid I’ll have another outburst and blow everything up? Because you’re afraid of me?”

“No, of course we’re not afraid of you,” David cried, anger completely vanished.

“It sure seems like you have been my entire life,” she answered bitterly.

Snow put a hand on her husband’s arm, and he took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. We thought we were doing what was best for you. We thought we were protecting you.”

“You can’t protect me from myself. You have to learn to trust me.”

Her mother nodded at her plea. “We do. Of course we trust you.”

Emma refused to respond, unable to believe the words when their actions suggested quite the opposite. Silence stretched between them. Snow seemed to expectantly wait for Emma’s response, and when it became clear that she had no plan to accept her mother’s empty promise without proof, Snow’s shoulders slumped in disappointment.

David swallowed but dipped his chin in agreement, then shouldered his bag of supplies. “Shall we continue this discussion on the ship,

Captain

?”

The way David had to grind Killian’s title through his teeth almost cheered Emma up, but the weight she’d just lifted from her chest, the feelings she’d just revealed to her parents settled over her like a dense cloud. When she turned to Killian, he was already looking at her, understanding shining in his eyes.

“Aye,” he answered, holding Emma’s gaze. “Lead the way, Your Highness.”

He hadn’t used her title in months, but she tugged a corner of her mouth up in an appreciative smile for him. His choice was deliberate - her title was an acknowledgement of her power, her victory over this situation, and her parents certainly hadn’t missed it. He gave her a half wink, so fast she was sure no one else noticed, and gestured to her belt. With steady fingers, she untied the compass from its place and opened the lid, then began walking, not once looking over her shoulder to see if anyone had followed.

While the first hour or so of their walk had been filled with tense silence, the remaining time had been spent trading stories and catching each other up on what had happened to the others. Apparently, they’d all had an eventful adventure, and were all on the same page about seeing its end as quickly as they possibly could. By the time they’d reached the ship, there had been nothing left to discuss but their next steps, and Emma had offered up her room as their headquarters for formulating a plan. They hadn’t slept a wink that night, but by sunrise they had a loose plan, which was more than Emma could have hoped for during their first day back together.

“So we send word by mermaid to the Inner Circle, and from there we’ll have the dwarves rally the forces before meeting us at the hovel in a few weeks time,” Snow concluded, eyes bright as David scribbled notes furiously at the table next to them.

“Forgive me,” Killian interrupted, his thumb and finger pressed to his brows in confusion, “but how do you know you can trust these mermaids?”

“Because,” Snow said cheerfully, pulling a shell from the inner pocket of her furry vest, “I know the mermaid in question. She would never betray me. We’ve been through a lot together.”

“And you know that Ariel can find who she needs once she gets to Misthaven?” David asked in confirmation.

“Of course! As long as she still has the bracelet, she’ll be able to search the usual rendez-vous points until she finds someone. No need for her to pass along information and somehow be discovered. It’s safer to send one person than to send messages through several people.”

“What if she gets caught?” Emma weighed in, stifling a yawn.

“She won’t,” Snow said simply.

“Oh-kay,” Emma replied, drawing out the syllables. “So there’s only one thing left to talk about then.”

“What’s that?” David’s brows scrunched together as he looked over their stack of notes for any gaps.

Emma took a deep breath, steadying herself for the reaction she knew her words would cause. “I want to start training to control my magic.”

“Do you really think that’s a good idea on a

ship

? On the

open seas

?” David asked slowly.

“Well, she’s already blown the Jolly up once before, so…” Killian trailed off, hand dropping from his face.

“

What?”

Snow and David looked quickly to Emma, but she held up her hands.

“There was a storm and I thought we were all going to die and I tried to protect us. Unfortunately, the ship didn’t make it.”

Killian grimaced. “But the entire crew did.”

Her parents both paused, considering, as Killian continued. “While her magic might have been destructive, her intention was well-placed, and I think that with some practice, she could learn to actually guide her magic with her heart instead of succumbing to catastrophic outbursts when her emotions get the best of her.”

“And,” Emma added, “I don’t think we can hope to win this battle without at least trying to use my magic. Whoever orchestrated this was powerful, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they have someone on their side pulling some magical strings.”

“If you’re sure,” Snow conceded with a pointed look.

“I’m sure.”

David cleared his throat. “And

how

are you planning to learn to control your magic? It’s not like we have access to a plethora of teachers on the open seas.”

“We can worry about how later,” Snow dismissed with a yawn of her own. “For now, we need to rest, or when we wake up we’ll find that our plans don’t even make sense anymore.”

“Aye,” Killian agreed, stretching his arms above his head. His fingers and hook brushed the low cabin ceiling. “I must take my leave. The crew needs a heading.”

“Of course,” Emma said, offering him a small smile. “Thank you.”

His eyes were bleary but held their usual twinkle as he nodded and left the cabin.

Sighing, Emma stood from her chair, joints stiff. “Well, I suppose we need to figure out sleeping arrangements.”

“We’ll bring in hammocks and sleep here,” David announced quickly, and Emma couldn’t help but bristle at his tone. She knew he still didn’t trust anyone but the two of them on the ship, and he wanted to keep them close, so she didn’t press the issue and simply agreed before stepping out to find the crate of spare hammocks below.
 
***
 
One full week of sharing a room with her parents had almost made Emma yearn for the days when they were still missing.

Of course she was happy to have them back. They’d picked up where they’d left off on her lessons, her mornings filled with politics and diplomacy with her mother, while afternoons were left to strategy and weaponry with her father. During the evenings she worked around the ship, maintaining her position among the crew, and she had to admit that in some way she felt quite fulfilled. She’d managed to squeeze in an hour or two to practice with her magic at lunch or before dinner if her work was finished early, and she was nearly able to light and extinguish a candle on her own without setting the entire ship on fire, which had been Killian’s primary reservation when she’d told him that was going to be her first task.

But when she wasn’t busy, her parents were always there. They never said it outright, but they always found excuses to make sure she never got any time alone with Killian. One of them always sat between them at dinner, or pulled Emma away from late night card games, or sometimes even outright interrupted their conversations on deck to ask her questions or teach her something they’d suddenly forgotten in that day’s lesson. Perhaps they were almost as afraid as she was that if they took their eyes off of her, she would disappear, as if this had all been some fever dream and they were really still worlds apart with no idea how to get to each other. But the frequency with which their interruptions coincided with Emma’s proximity to Killian was more than suspicious.

The first bit of quiet she’d had in days had been her bath this morning, when it had been her turn with one of the ship's wash basins. She quickly filled it and locked the door, relishing on every moment of silence she could. She had stayed in the water for so long that her skin had puckered and her teeth had been chattering, but when she’d dried and dressed she smiled at her reflection. She’d finally gotten the pink dye out of her hair after days of scrubbing at it relentlessly over a wash bowl, and she couldn’t have been happier to have her unruly blonde curls back as she smoothed them with the dwindling supply of cream she’d bought all those months ago.

Her quiet streak thankfully continued, as her parents took turns to bathe as well, and Emma had actually been delighted to have missed dinner, savoring the opportunity to eat alone with Mrs. Cooke in the galley. She’d made quick note of Emma’s natural hair, and thanked all the gods in all the realms that she looked normal again, and had offered her an additional ladle of soup in celebration. By the time her parents had stumbled into the galley for their own dinner, Emma was completely stuffed and dismissed herself to her cabin briefly before hurrying up to the deck for her usual evening stroll to look at the stars.

She relished the breeze on her cheeks, thankful that she’d left her hair unbound. Hopefully it would dry before she tried to sleep on it tonight.

“I thought I might find you here.”

Emma turned on her heel to find Killian, leaning against the starboard rail on the quarterdeck.

“What made you think that?”

A genuine smile spread across his face. “Because it’s where your parents aren’t at the moment.”

She huffed a laugh and climbed the stairs to meet him. “You’re observant.”

“Of course. It’s my duty to notice everything on my ship,” he said with a wink, stepping to the side and gesturing for her to join him.

“Oh?” She teased, bumping his shoulder lightly before leaning against the rail next to him.

“Yes, it is,” he insisted. “Glad to see the old, less pink version of you has decided to grace us with her presence, by the way.”

“You know, I think this might be the first time in history that a woman has changed her hair and a man has noticed without being told.”

“A gentleman always notices,” Killian said with a waggle of his brows.

“Ah,” she laughed, turning her gaze to the bejeweled sky above. They stood together, shoulder to shoulder, in companionable silence, taking in the beauty around them, the glittering heavens above that held untold mysteries and countless stories. “You know,” she finally spoke, voice little more than a whisper, “This has got to be my favorite part of the ship.”

“The quarterdeck?” Killian asked with a chuckle.

“No, you idiot.” She bumped him again, this time hard enough for him to stumble a step. “The stars. Being able to come out here at night and sit in silence and just take it all in. It’s peaceful.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, and when she looked at him, his face didn’t hold any of the teasing humor she thought she would find. Instead, she found quiet contemplation, and it was everything she could do not to think about the last time she’d seen that look on his face. She’d seen him look at her like that when she’d woken up the morning after their kiss. The kiss she had been trying very hard every waking moment since not to think about. “It’s the one thing as a boy that made me not hate my life on the seas.”

“You hated sailing?”

Killian shifted uncomfortably. “No, not sailing specifically, but slavery didn’t do much to encourage my affection for living on the seas in any capacity.”

“Oh,” Emma breathed. She’d forgotten, the story he’d told on the beach about his father, selling his own two sons into slavery to settle his own gambling debts, and how from that moment, his brother had been everything to him. “I’m sorry.”

“It was a long time ago,” he shrugged, offering an insincere smile. Pain lined his eyes, but he dropped her gaze, pointing to the sack that had been dangling from her fingers. “What do we have here?”

“Ah!” She reached in and produced two heavy blocks, dropping the dark brown one into Killian’s hand. “I thought you’d like to help me do the honors.”

“What in the world is this?” he laughed, lifting his nose to sniff the strange oily object.

“It’s hair dye,” Emma responded, holding up her block, the half of the red that had turned her into a walking fairy for the better part of two weeks. “Apparently, I’m not cut out to be a stylist of any sort, so it’s serving us no use anymore. Plus it attracted more attention than it did anything else. That won’t help us much once we get back.”

She’d almost said

home,

but stopped herself. It didn’t feel like home anymore. She didn’t know where home really was, actually, but before she could think on it, Killian lifted his hand to her.

“To accepting who we really are, then?”

Lifting her hand, she smiled broadly at him. “Yes, I like that.”

They tossed the bricks of dye into the dark, churning waters below and they landed with a satisfying splash. Emma wiped her hand on her pants, hoping the red residue wouldn’t show on the dark material. “Never again,” she mumbled, eyes fixed on the wake of the splash.

“Yes, no telling how awful that brown one might have been,” Killian said with a wink.

“Hey, I’m sure it wouldn’t have been that-”

“Emma?”

Her shoulders slumped and a quiet groan escaped the back of her throat. “Yes?”

She turned away from Killian, who had gone quiet once more, to see Snow’s head popping up out of the main deck hatch. “We’re going to bed, it’s been a long day.”

“Okay.”

“Aren’t you coming?” Her father’s voice drifted from below, and she rolled her eyes.

“I’ll be there soon,” she shouted back, and Killian laughed quietly through his nose.

“I’ll leave you to the stars, then,” he said loud enough for them to hear, but dropped his voice to a whisper as he brushed past her. “They’ll never let you enjoy them if I stay.”

She smiled at him, and as if on cue, her mom disappeared as Killian did, satisfied that she was alone.

The moon had fully risen by the time she decided to go back below, and Emma had lost count of how long she’d stayed there, eyes glued to the sky as the night watch checked various stations around her intermittently. But when she reached her door, she couldn’t go in. The thought of seeing her father, eyes glued to the door awaiting her arrival made her grind her teeth, and she wasn’t quite ready to let go of her free time. Quietly, she snuck away from her door, and once she was out of earshot, she looked around, trying to find anywhere that could harbor her for even a moment longer.

Before she’d really decided where to go, a heavy wooden door was before her. She knocked softly, almost hoping there would be no answer.

“Enter.”

Emma ignored the stutter of her heart as she pushed open the door and found Killian sitting at his desk, shirt unbuttoned to the bottom of his chest and sleeves rolled up to his elbows with a drink in his hand. He hadn’t yet taken his brace off, but he’d obviously settled in for the night if the glaze in his eyes were any indication.

He stood and cleared his throat at the sight of her. “Ah, Emma. Oh, um, come in,” he stammered, and she told herself he had to be the rum talking. “Drink?”

“No,” she shook her head and closed the door behind her, but didn’t move any farther into the room.

The last time she’d been in here, she had been sure she was going to be negotiating the terms of her stay here as a hostage. If she had known then that months later she’d be here with her parents as a member of the crew with an incredibly undefinable relationship to the man who had once held her aboard this very ship against her will, she might have jumped off the bow of the ship in an apparent bout of lunacy. But now, as they stood watching each other in heavy, awkward silence, the shift in their dynamic had never been more palpable.

He scrunched his brows as he always did when he could read her thoughts, but couldn't conceal the mischievous glint in his eyes as they narrowed on her. “Why are you here, Swan?”

“Swan?” She leaned against the door and crossed her arms across her chest. “I thought we had moved past that.”

A dark brow shot up at her and he set down his glass. “Have we?”

A loaded question. She wasn’t even sure of the answer herself. Their kiss was still seared into her mind, lingering on the periphery of her thoughts every waking moment. Only actively avoiding the memory kept her from plunging into an endless abyss of emotional turmoil.

She liked him, and she couldn’t bother denying it anymore. She had kissed him, and it was the recollection of the utterly wrecked look on his face as he had laid atop her that night that had her mustering every bit of swagger she could manage. “Haven’t we?”

It wasn’t an answer. No, it was just another way for her to avoid telling him the truth about her feelings, but as she looked at him, excitement danced in those crushing blue eyes. Not excitement, she realized, but hope. She had given him hope, and that spark set her heart soaring and her stomach plummeting.

They were impossible, she knew that without a doubt. With her parents now safely aboard the Jolly, it would be a matter of weeks before they arrived back in Misthaven and took back their kingdom with her mother’s patched together army of dwarves and werewolves and fairies and gods knew who else. Once that was finished, she would return to her life at the palace and Killian...she didn’t know where he would go, only that his long-held disdain for royalty meant he most certainly wouldn’t stick around for her.

She wished that knowledge would have kept her from desperately wanting their circumstances to be different.

“I-”

“Emma-”

They both spoke in unison, stepping toward each other, then clamped their mouths shut and froze at the same time. A blush crept into her cheeks. “Sorry,” she jerked her chin. “Go ahead.”

The neck of his shirt gaped to reveal tufts of dark curls as Killian scratched nervously behind his ear. “I’ve been thinking a lot about the other night,” he admitted, and she could have sworn her heart stopped beating entirely. “I must apologize if it was out of line.”

For a moment, she was dumbfounded as she processed his words.

She

had kissed

him

, and here he was apologizing for her actions as if they were his own, as if it was him who had committed a grievously unchivalrous sin. “It wasn’t,” she reassured him with a smile. “It was fine.”

His eyes were again alight with mischief as he closed in on her with long, sauntering strides, whatever guilt he must have felt a second ago now appeased. “Just fine?” he mused. “I seem to recall you felt differently at the time.”

Her cheeks burned red hot at the memory of her breathy sighs as he’d kissed her, but she refused to yield an inch. “I must have forgotten.”

“No you didn’t,” he purred, stopping a yard away. A cat toying with his prey. “While we’re on the topic,” he tilted his head, tongue darting across his bottom lip, “why

did

you kiss me, princess?”

Her breathing hitched, and Killian’s gaze darted to her chest, assessing the rapid rise and fall of her breaths, before meeting her stare once more with a smirk. Every instinct roared at her to open the door and run away. But she was Emma Swan, and she would not be cowed.

“Because I wanted to.”

This time he sucked in a breath, and shock flashed across his features. All he could do was stare and stare, and Emma was almost convinced she’d won this round when he took another step toward her, closing the distance between them completely. She could smell the rum on his breath, and she was suddenly aware of the intimacy of her being in his room, their proximity to his bed, the delicious heat radiating from his bare chest. She stumbled back a step, but hit the door with a gasp. His smirk grew wider. A cat toying with his prey indeed - he had her pinned, and the thought secretly thrilled a distant, hungry part of her.

“Well,” he breathed, “in that case…”

His hand came to rest on her waist, fingers trailing under the bottom of her loose shirt, searching for bare skin. His touch was gentle as he pushed up to her ribs, burning tender strokes into her side that had her lower back bowing off the door into his warmth.

Gods,

she wanted him.

Her reaction didn’t go unnoticed and he smiled, but his hand stilled and his eyes went soft as they searched her own, their faces now inches apart. “Why are you here, Emma?” His voice was a whisper, his question raw and vulnerable.

“I…” Her lips faintly brushed his as she swallowed, and her eyes fluttered shut. His hand tightened on her side, but he didn’t move. “I needed somewhere to go.”

Would that be how this ended? The way it all began?

Killian seemed to track her thought, that strange voice in her head, and his hook stroked down her back, pulling her flush against him. She opened her eyes and tilted her head back to look up at him.

“Why me?”

His eyes darted back and forth between her own, and as soon as the whispered words had left his mouth, she knew he didn’t just mean tonight. His hand trailed up her arm and he stroked his ringed thumb across her cheek, watching as she blushed in his wake. She pushed up onto her toes and wrapped her arms loosely around his neck, but even as their lips brushed together once more, he didn’t seize the kiss. He was waiting, she knew, for her answer. For permission.

“Because…” she swallowed, squeezing her eyes shut.

Just tell him.

“Because I l-”

Three loud bangs reverberated through her bones and she jumped with a curse. Killian flinched, but tightened his grip on her waist protectively. He was smiling at her faintly, expression tender yet addled, and as he reached back to open the door, he placed a gentle kiss on her hairline. Its meaning was clear:

to be continued.

The door cracked, Killian let out a heavy sigh of frustration. “We best be bloody sinking, Mr. Smee, or I’ll have your-”

“We have a tail, Captain.” Smee’s eyes darted fearfully between Killian and her, then to the arm he had securely fixed around her, the grip that tightened possessively once more at his words. She couldn’t imagine what this must look like, what he must have assumed was happening, what

was

actually happening in here-

“How far?” Killian’s face was stone cold as she looked up at him, hands falling to rest on his forearms.

Like that looks any more innocent.

Smee tracked the movement, but looked urgently back to his captain’s waiting face. He coughed nervously, furiously wringing his tatty red hat as he tried to catch his breath. “Just broke on the horizon. They’re gaining fast.”

“Colors?” The blush was leached from Killian’s now sickly pale cheeks, and Emma’s blood ran cold at the fear in his eyes.

“Blackbeard.”

Killian looked sharply down at Emma, assessing her reaction, and she tightened her grip on his arms, hands suddenly clammy against his skin. He set his jaw and nodded once at her.

Trust me,

he seemed to say.

She dipped her chin back at him.

I do.

He took a deep breath and looked back at Smee. “Wake the crew. Prepare for battle.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Killian huffed as chaos reigned around him - sailors shouting, cannons being loaded, crates of gunpowder cracking open. The din was stifling, and he watched closely through the spyglass as the Queen Anne’s Revenge gained on them with impossible speed. Blackbeard was known to always have a trick or two up his ridiculous puffy sleeves, but the timing of this particular encounter...he knew who was on board, and Killian was prepared to die to defend her.

“Why me?”

“Because I l-”

That last ‘L’ was driving him insane.

Like? Love? Loathe?

Surely not loathe.

No, they’d been poised not minutes before to share another kiss, that couldn’t be it. It had to be one of the former, and he would count either as an improvement, and a blessing.

“How long, Captain?”

The helmsman’s voice startled Killian from his musings, and he whipped his head to face him, folding the spyglass down and tucking it into an interior pocket of his heavy leather duster. McHanna wasn’t one to flash around his skill with weapons, normally only opting for an understated dagger the length of his forearm at his side, but now, armed to the teeth, he looked every bit the imposing man Killian had hired into his service nearly two hundred years ago.

“No more than ten minutes at this pace,” Killian answered grimly, his sour expression matching his mood. “Their crew is making preparations to board.”

As he’d watched them approach, he’d seen swaths of men huddled at the sides, hauling planks and grappling hooks. Their intention was crystal clear: come aboard to take Emma and her parents, then sink the Jolly to the bloody depths in their wake.

“What are your orders, Captain?” McHanna’s face was dark, shadowed even in the full moonlight.

He considered for a moment. They could try to slaughter every man who attempted to step foot on the deck, but they’d barely win and the cost would be high. The Revenge carried at least forty more men than the Jolly - though Killian and his men were the more skilled and experienced opponent, they’d be overwhelmed by sheer numbers. Not to mention the same magic that carried the ship this fast on such a still night would no doubt be wielded to their advantage. It had only been a few days since Emma’s parents had given their blessing to allow her to practice with her magic, and in that time all she had done was light and douse a candle unreliably; that was hardly enough to rival the power that carried that behemoth ship across the waves. He couldn’t expect a miracle like that from her. This was his ship, and it was his duty to protect her.

His eyes cut across the deck, where Emma’s golden waves were haphazardly tied back as she and her parents helped the crew haul up the last crate of gunpowder. Fear gripped him, and though he knew there was nothing he could do or say to her to keep her from fighting alongside the crew -

her

crew - it still scared him to bits that she could be hurt or taken from him. She was a trained warrior, he reminded himself, and she could certainly take care of herself. He just wished she didn’t have to, and would fight by her side until the moment he was unable to any longer.

“Sir?” McHanna still stood beside him, waiting expectantly.

Killian nodded at him, and unsheathed his sword as he marched onto the main deck and hoisted it in the air. “Listen to your captain, men!”

All eyes turned on him, and a hush fell over the throng of anxious sailors.

“Aboard that ship are more than sixty men who wish to steal from you and your brothers. Their ship is preparing to board our home in bad form - is that how true men of the sea show their honor?” The crowd shouted back at him -

no captain! -

and he turned, locking eyes with Emma. “When they come, we will draw no quarter and take no captives. We’ve bested Blackbeard before, and we shall do so again. We will protect what is ours, and watch out for our own. Not a single bilge rat on Blackbeard’s crew is to touch our passengers, and we will honor our vows to return them to their home.”

“AYE!”

the crew bellowed in return.

As he watched her, she blinked away tears and nodded in thanks. He turned, looking at the men who surrounded him, who had served and fought by his side for centuries. “We have faced far more perilous encounters than this these long years, lads. This victory shall be another on the long list of conquests the Jolly Roger and her crew have taken. Who’s with me?”

The crew shouted, brandishing swords and daggers, bows and spears - a rallying cry that echoed across the waters to where the Revenge was making its final approach. Wind whipped across the deck, and dark strands of hair blew into Killian’s eyes as he bared his teeth. “Let’s show them what real pirates are made of,” he rumbled darkly.

Killian prowled back to the rail and sheathed his sword, grabbing a rope to steady himself as he climbed onto a platform beneath the nearest cannon.  The Revenge was less than a ship’s length away, and he could see the eyes of Blackbeard’s crew huddled at their stations across the dark waters. His hair lashed his forehead, and the crew around him went silent, now readied for their orders at their own posts. A glance over his shoulder had him marking Emma’s location on the quarterdeck, safely tucked behind her father and McHanna. He could be there within seconds if need be from his position.

The back of Killian’s neck tingled, and the hair on his arms stood on end as he took in the Revenge once more. Silence greeted him across the waves.

Odd.

He’d never had an encounter with another ship like this that felt so...off. The men aboard that ship were silent, not even chattering amongst themselves, and Blackbeard was nowhere to be seen. There was not an order being given, not a blade drawn, not a single sign that they actually intended to fight.

His brows narrowed and he looked back at Smee, then at Lansing. They shrugged, their eyes painfully squinted at the Revenge, shaking their heads in confusion.

Watery light broke on the horizon, and Killian glanced at the sky. Sunrise wasn’t far off, but surely they didn’t mean to wait until daylight to start the proceedings.

As Killian turned back, his attention snagged on the mast…

Where a white flag of truce was being raised.

“Don’t trust it, Captain!” McHanna warned from behind. Several of the men grunted their agreement, but Killian shook his head.

“I don’t.”

Smee shuffled up to him, knitted hat still tightly wound in his hands. “But will we listen to it, Captain?”

“It’ll be bad form not to, I’m afraid.” He jumped back down onto the deck with a thud that echoed too loudly in the unnatural silence. His heart raced and his sharp gaze swept the deck, searching frantically for Emma, desperate for any sign of trust she could give him. But from her place on the quarterdeck, her eyes were wide, fixed on the Revenge and the hostile crew aboard it, fear and dread written plainly across her face.

“We can’t turn and run, they’ll shoot us in the back,” David warned. “But if we let them on the ship, they’ll turn on us and try to kill every man onboard.”

Killian shook his head grimly, tearing his eyes away from Emma. “No. I think Blackbeard’s plans are much worse.” He looked up to the crow’s nest and jerked his chin to Johnny. “Raise the flag. Prepare to be boarded.”
 
***
 
The sun was nearly breaking on the horizon by the time Blackbeard led his boarding party onto the Jolly. The terms of their ceasefire were temporary, and, as with any encounter with one of the realm’s most vicious pirates, fragile. All it would take was one word, one sign of disrespect or sudden move by a tightly-wound crew member for the entire agreement to fall apart, and for the rest of Blackbeard’s crew to board the Jolly and overwhelm the fray. Allowing them to board may have been the safest of their limited options, but it most assuredly wasn’t safe in any other sense of the word.

By the time Blackbeard’s boots hit the deck, Killian’s jaw was tense, fluttering as he ground his teeth in frustration. “Your dire need for a dramatic entrance certainly hasn’t changed over the years,” he said by way of greeting.

He knew the part he had to play. Right now, he would have to be Captain Hook, the most notorious and bloodthirsty pirate the realm had ever known. The Jolly’s only hope of survival,

Emma’s

only hope of survival, was all riding on Killian’s ability to convince Blackbeard and his crew that he hadn’t changed fundamentally in ways he still didn’t understand.

His thoughts snagged on the princess, who had taken up a place behind him. It had been decided among her parents and his senior crew that it would be the safest place for her during the encounter - Blackbeard likely wouldn’t risk crossing swords with Killian when he was so much younger and stronger physically. He could protect her easier within arms reach, and when David and Snow had suggested it was her most defensible position, he hadn’t argued one bit. He only wished he’d had time to warn Emma about the man she would see him become during this encounter, and to assure her that man wasn’t who he really was anymore.

Flicking a finger impatiently, he dismissed those thoughts and donned his cool mask of cruel indifference, tinged by an insatiable hungry gleam in his eye that had made him ashamed to look in the mirror for years.

“Nor yours,” he retorted, his long curly hair and disgustingly unruly beard shifting across a ridiculously loud red coat as he cocked his head to the side. “You’ve been very quiet on the seas lately, boy. It’s hard to think that you’re not up to something nasty when you disappear like this for so long.”

“And yet you decided to seek me out anyway.”

“Well, you know me. I like a bit of fuss every now and again.” His beady eyes wandered across the ship, searching. “It’s good to keep things interesting, isn’t it?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Killian shifted, trying to draw Blackbeard’s attention.

The man looked at him, cold cunning in his eyes. “I mean, Killian Jones, that you’re keeping something very interesting, and very valuable, aboard your ship that I find myself quite jealous of.”

Killian desperately tried to control the tone of his voice, to sound confident, to emanate the brutal, heartless pirate he’d been for so many years. “I can’t imagine we have anything that you don’t besides a sense of fair play and good hygiene.”

The grunts behind Blackbeard murmured in protest, and one even bared his rotted teeth. Killian smiled darkly at the irony.

“Can’t you?” Blackbeard’s words were brutal, edged with warning.

Raising his chin haughtily, Killian stared the man down and scratched the end of his nose with his hook, letting it glint in the light of the dying lantern hanging above. “What do you want?”

“This time, boy, it’s actually not about me.” His eyes settled directly over Killian’s shoulder, and he could feel Emma’s fiery indignation as Blackbeard tipped his head in a mocking bow. “Your Highness.”

“Fuck you,” she spat, and Killian’s heart sang with pride.

Blackbeard laughed, though his men visibly tightened their grips on their weapons behind him. “She’s just as spirited as I’ve heard. Planning on keeping her all to yourself, Jonesy? It’s bad form not to share.”

He bristled at the nickname, at the disrespect, at the insinuation, and this time let his genuinely dangerous temper show. “Don’t speak to me about bad form, wretch. You’ll watch your tongue or I’ll have it as a trophy.”

“That’s the pirate I knew.” Blackbeard’s eyes shone with madness, with delight at the game he’d set for them. He’d seen that look before, and his bowels turned watery at the memory of the horrors that had followed. “You know, I almost didn’t believe it when I heard you’d made off with the princess for a second time. I thought you wouldn’t have the stones after the first time you completely mucked up the job - in spectacular fashion, I might add. I’ll admit that I thought she was dead like the rest of the world.”

Blackbeard licked at the corner of his mouth and tucked his thumbs into his belt, letting a notable silence stretch. Killian nearly rolled his eyes at the melodrama. “I won’t do you the dishonor of disrupting your cleverly constructed monologue, Mr. Teach. Get to the point.”

“Until,” he drew out with a pointed glare at Killian’s quip, at the use of his name, “someone informed me that they’d seen the legendary Jolly Roger, washed up onto an island along my trade territories and blown to bits by an apparent hurricane. Nice job with the repairs, by the way.” His compliment was half-hearted, but Killian ignored it as terror seized him, cold and tight. “They said while you were trapped there that they’d seen a woman who fit the description of the lovely late princess of Misthaven. Apparently you looked cozy.”

“Who told you this?” Killian demanded flatly. He couldn’t deny it - Blackbeard was well-connected, and while they had been in the far reaches of his territory, they had been in his territory nonetheless. He should have known better than to linger there for as long as they had, but he’d been so preoccupied with Emma…

“Ah, there’s the real kicker,” Blackbeard grinned wolfishly, then motioned for someone to approach from behind. Killian tore his angry stare from Blackbeard’s ruddy face, but as his eyes fell on the man that walked over the plank, his heart stopped dead in his chest.

Of everyone or everything he could have expected, Killian Jones never would have expected this.

It was almost like looking into a horrible, ghastly mirror. The grey-streaked black hair, the dull sapphire eyes, the unmistakable swagger in every step - Killian didn’t know whether he was going to roar or vomit as a man he had long assumed was dead walked over the plank and set foot onto his ship, his crisp white shirt emblazoned with Blackbeard’s insignia.

“Brennan! Good of you to join us! And what a happy day for you,” Blackbeard exclaimed, clapping Killian’s father on his shoulder. “A family reunion, and an end to our little quest. Don’t be shy, reacquaint yourselves! It’s been too long - relish this precious father-son moment. It brings a tear to my eye to think -”

“

Shut your fucking mouth,

” Killian bellowed, drawing his sword to lay at Blackbeard’s throat. He ducked out of the way, but Killian’s point was made - he was ready to shed as much blood as it took to appease the monstrous anger they’d awoken in him. Blackbeard knew it too, and the savage gleam in his eye only grew brighter.

“Come now, Killy,” Brennan raised his hands, taking a step toward his son, a son he had heartlessly sold into a life of slavery and toil. “I think we can agree it’s been long enough to put the past behind us.”

“If you speak one more time, I’ll slit you from navel to nose.” His voice alone promised violence, and distantly, he could feel his coat move, then the warmth of a hand on his back. Some part of his brain knew that Emma was trying to comfort him, to reassure him that she was there, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of the coward in front of him.

“I understand that you’re angry with me-”

“You don’t understand a fucking thing about me.”

Brennan ignored him and continued. “But son, I came back. I found you, like all good families do.”

A dangerous silence filled Killian’s head. “Your mistake is thinking that you are still any sort of family to me.”

“That’s harsh, Jones, even for you,” Blackbeard chastised, stepping around Brennan. His grin was still bright across his face, and Killian wanted nothing more than to remove his greasy-haired head from his shoulders. “Your father was on one of my ships working off a debt when he spotted you on that island with your bonnie lass. They watched from a distance until they saw something of value, and the moment they returned Brennan here was smart enough to seek me out and cut a deal. I had no idea who he was, otherwise I’d have made use of him well before now. But we were able to come to a nice arrangement that I think can be profitable to us all, if you play your cards right.”

“And what makes you think I’d ever make a deal with you after you bring this recreant bastard onto my ship?” Killian’s low voice shook with anger, and his skin crawled with fury, fingers itching to wrap around someone’s, anyone’s throat.

“I’m your father,” Brennan cut in. “You can’t erase blood, boy.”

“I am not a boy. And I am

not

your son. Not anymore. You made sure of that.”

“You always will be to me. Don’t you understand, Killy? We have a second chance!”

Bitter tears stung Killian’s eyes, and he angled his sword at his father. “Is that why you’re here? To fulfill some twisted fantasy about us becoming a family again? Liam is

dead

because of you, because of what you did to us.” His father blinked, the only show of surprise he would allow at the news of the elder boy Jones. “I was happy to think that you were dumped in the sewers to rot with the rest of the rabble years ago, but I see you’re set on continuing to disappoint.”

“And your pirating is much better?” His words stung in a place that Killian hadn’t even known existed anymore, and his father noticed. “Killy, think about it. All we have to do is agree to work together, just this once if you’d like, and we could have a fresh start.”

“Work together to what? To murder an innocent family in cold blood?”

“No! To bring that girl back to Misthaven and hand her over to the King!” Brennan jerked his chin over Killian’s shoulder, and his heart nearly gave out once more. Killian took his eyes off Brennan for the first time and looked to Emma, still standing behind him, her hand knotted in the back of his shirt beneath the slit of his heavy leather duster. She was there, to comfort

him

, to stand by

him

, even as his father threatened her very existence.

He wished he could have reassured her, even smiled at her, but his thoughts snagged on his father’s words and he faced the man once more. “What king?”

“King George! The only King of Misthaven there is, boy.”

Killian felt Emma’s hand tighten on his shirt, and he knew she was piecing together what was unfolding before them. He had to try to get more information out of his father, he had to keep them talking.

“And why would I do that?”

Brennan scoffed. “Don’t be a child.

Money

, Killian! The only thing in the world that means anything to these royals and nobles and anyone who thinks they’re better than us. We have a chance to get this miserable, spoiled wench out of the way so we can have a fresh start. We can go anywhere, be anyone we want. All we have to do is take her back to that stuffy palace you took her from and we’ll get our reward! The girl for our freedom!” His father looked half mad as his head bobbed obsessively, his plea too emotional to even make sense.

“The only reason I’ve ever wanted freedom,” Killian growled darkly, “is because you sold me into servitude as a

child

. I found freedom on my own, no thanks to you.”

“King George was happy to see us when we told him what we knew. Said you didn’t follow through on a similar bargain previously,” his father went on, ignoring Killian’s every word. “He has powerful allies, Killy. Dark magic. Endless coffers. We could have whatever we wanted for her, for

all of them

. We could split the profit between us and still be rich men. All you have to do is give up that golden head of hair warming your sheets in the dark hours of the night, then you and I can split the real gold and start over.”

“Do not speak about her like that,” he threatened, raising his sword again. It glinted in the newly-risen sun, and for a moment, Killian’s eyes were stuck on the vision of his father’s hateful reflection in the marred steel.

Brennan chuckled. “Don’t tell me a pirate such as yourself is so prudish in front of his own crew. Surely they know -”

“

I said,

” Killian spat, breathing unevenly, “be silent.”

Killian’s tone seemed to strike something in his father, and his eyes fell once more over his son’s shoulder, now harshly pinning Emma to the spot. “Don’t tell me you’ve fallen for her, son.”

He didn’t answer, but he knew his silence was confirmation enough for everyone within earshot. Emma’s hand loosened its grip in surprise, but he pushed it out of his mind, trying to find any way to regain control over this cursed situation.

“Killy, you know what royals are like! She’ll never love you!” He laughed, and blinding rage hit Killian like a ton of bricks. “Sure, she may bat her lashes at you and sing you pretty songs, but at the end of the day when you’ve had your fill of each other, she’ll discard you like some stale whore and -”

Faster than a blink, Killian lurched with a furious cry. Brennan choked on a mouthful of blood as Killian punched his sword through his father’s stomach, and Emma jumped back with a yelp of surprise.

The entire crew drew their weapons around him, but Blackbeard stood idly by, watching with faint amusement as Killian withdrew his sword and kicked his father to the ground.

“It’s bad form to speak such ways about a lady,” he whispered with quiet venom, watching the blood pool around his boots as the light left his father’s wide eyes.

Brennan gurgled, unable to speak, and it wasn’t more than a handful of moments before the jagged rise and fall of his chest ceased.

Dead.

His father was dead.

He

had killed his own father.

He wiped his sword on the chest of his father’s now soiled shirt, then spat on him in farewell before facing Blackbeard once more, twitching the end of his sword up to rest on his coat breast, the sun now warming the back of his head and setting his temper ablaze. “You have

seconds

to vacate my ship, or you’ll get the same treatment.”

The bloodlust in his eyes must have done the trick, and Blackbeard nodded in dismissal to his crew, who scurried back aboard the Revenge like a hoard of bilge rats running from a fire. “This isn’t over, you and I.”

“I think it is.” Killian bared his teeth, the savage animal he used to be fully in possession of his body. “The next time I see even a single greasy hair of yours in my way, consider yourself a dead man, Edward Teach.”

“Is that a threat?”

Killian felt heavy, as if an invisible weight was trying to press him into the ground. He kept his voice low and pressed the tip of his blade harder, until Blackbeard’s lapel audibly ripped. “Consider it a promise.”

He removed his sword, but didn’t sheath it before waving to Blackbeard in dismissal. “And take the trash with you when you go,” he called over his shoulder, kicking his father’s limp foot as he walked away.

Whether he summoned his crew back to remove the body or not, Killian didn’t know. His own crew cleared out of his way as he stomped across the deck, and he faintly heard Emma close on his heels, until he reached the hatch and disappeared below deck.

What have you done?

He’d killed his own father.

“Killian!” Emma’s shaky whisper trailed behind him. “Killian, please. Wait. Killian!”

He didn’t stop, didn’t even slow as tears began to stream down his face. Unable to contain his shaking anymore, he sheathed his sword and let his hand fall idly to his side.

“Killian, please,” Emma called after him. “Please, don’t shut me out like this.”

What have you done? What have you done? What have you done?

Mere feet above his head, his father’s festering blood -

his

blood - was soaking into the sacred timbers of his ship.

His door appeared down the narrow hallway, and Emma’s footsteps picked up speed behind him. Still, he didn’t slow, didn’t respond as he desperately tried to hold in the heavy sobs caught in his chest.

He couldn’t open the door fast enough, and as he entered his room, he left it ajar behind him, hoping Emma understood the invitation he couldn’t extend. He crossed the room in a few heavy steps before uncorking a bottle of rum with his teeth and drinking deeply, foregoing the formality, the undeserving civility of a glass.

Relentless thrumming in his ears nearly deafened him. He couldn’t tell whether it was his own heartbeat, or some cruel trick of the gods replaying the final beats of his father’s own heart for him to hear. He squeezed his eyes shut for a long moment, desperately trying to silence the noise before he opened them and took another long drink.

His attention snagged on the blood - his own father’s blood - shining on his hand. Though it was a sight he’d seen more times than he cared to remember, this time was different. All these months, he’d convinced himself that he could be different, that he could be good, and he’d hoped that that might wash away the sins of his past, the blood he’d shed in his wretchedly long life.

It was foolish to think he had changed.

The door clicked shut behind him, followed by the slide and thud of the lock behind it. Killian glanced in the mirror and saw that Emma stood, wide-eyed, with her back pressed to the door, and his heart shattered into a million splinters. She’d come here out of concern for him, but she was standing as far away from him as the room would allow, like he was a wild animal that would attack if provoked. Perhaps he was.

You’re a monster.

He was a monster, the same villain he’d always been. Killian swallowed a sob and took another deep pull of rum. He’d been nothing more today than he had been for almost two centuries - that he couldn’t deny. Shame filled him, from the bottom of his boots to the wind-tossed tips of his hair.

“Killian,” Emma whispered once more. “Please. Please talk to me.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, but didn’t bother wiping the tears that spilled as he turned around, unable to look at her.

How could he look at her? She was so

good

and pure and brave, and he...he was a murderer and a coward, just like his now-dead father.

A cold hand touched his face and he started, but he didn’t open his eyes. “Killian, look at me,” she pleaded, gently wiping the wet streaks from his cheeks.

Slowly, he took a deep breath and opened his eyes. They were standing so close they were nearly touching, but Killian couldn’t stand it. His gaze trailed to the floor behind her, where bloody footprints from his boots led from the door to his position now.  He could even see parts of Emma’s smaller footprints. She’d tracked through his own, likely on the ladder, and now she was covered in the blood of his sins. The thought nearly had him careening for the wash bowl.

“Hey.” She tugged his cheek, forcing his eyes back to her own. “Say something. Anything.”

His voice cracked as he whispered his response. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” Her neat brows knitted over those beautiful turquoise eyes. “

I’m

the one who should be saying sorry. All of this was because of me, because

I

chose to come here.”

“Please.” His raw, shaky voice grated on his ears and he cleared his throat. “Please, don’t blame yourself at my expense. That...today was my choice. Every moment of it.”

And it had been. When his father had insulted Emma’s honor, insulted his own judgement, Killian had

wanted

to kill him. He had let himself be so overcome by anger, so weak to his own dark whims that it had been easy.

“There were no other choices to make. They would have hurt you if you hadn’t done something.”

“It wasn’t my life I feared for,” Killian interrupted, casting his eyes to the floor once more. “Nor my honor that I was protecting.”

For a moment, he thought back to her earlier visit. A mere two hours ago, she’d been in his room in the dead of night, where she’d been discovered in his arms by Mr. Smee. He wondered whether his crew had been thinking the same things his father had suggested of her, whether he had compromised her honor merely by keeping her on board the Jolly among him and his men.

Emma breathed in deeply and blew out through her mouth. Killian watched as his shirt fluttered with her breath. “I know,” she admitted. “I know. Thank you for that, and for protecting me and my family.”

“We made a bargain,” he nodded, dismissing her gratitude. “I told you that I would ensure your safety whether by trickery or cutlass while I helped you return to your kingdom. I would do, and will continue to do, anything in my power to make sure I fulfill my vow to you.”

Her delicate nostrils flared, and tears shone in her eyes before she blinked them away. He could see the hurt that flashed there, at his insinuation that she was nothing more than a bargain to him, and it ground the remaining splinters of his heart into unfeeling dust. “Killian, your father-”

“He’s gone. It’s over.”

As is this subject,

he hoped to imply.

She straightened her spine and lifted her chin at his tone, her hand withdrawing from his face. “I just wanted to know if you need to talk about it or-”

“No.” Even as the word came out of his mouth, he hated how short he was being with her, but uncontrollable temper once more rose within him, and he could do nothing to stop himself as he went on. “No, I do not want to talk about it. Or him. Or anything about this morning. If that’s the only reason you’re here, I’d suggest you take your leave.”

Emma’s mouth fell open in surprise, and Killian well and truly hated himself more than he ever had in his entire life. He looked away, disgusted, and turned back to face the mirror.

The man he’d tried so hard to change, so hard to get rid of stared back at him. He closed his eyes, unable to bear his disappointment.

“Killian, I -”

“Please, just go,” he whispered.

He could feel Emma lingering behind him, but when he looked back up at the mirror, he watched as she unlocked the door and left with a sad look over her shoulder. He turned the bottle of rum up once more, and let the dark void yawning before him swallow him whole.
 
***
 
Darkness had fallen long before Killian finally stumbled back on deck. His head swam as the breeze ruffled his hair. It had been a spell since the last time he’d finished a whole bottle of rum in a day, and he was almost positive that by the time the sun came up, he would fully regret his actions.

Ironically, he’d decided somewhere near the bottom of the bottle that, of the actions that he would regret in the morning, killing his father would be the least of them. Among his regrets, he wished he’d have killed Blackbeard too. He wished he would have sent Emma below deck, safely tucked away from his villainous display. He wished it wouldn’t have been so easy for Blackbeard to turn him back into the feral Captain Hook. But crowned king among his regrets was how he’d treated Emma this morning. At the time, he thought sending her away while he fell apart would have been easier, that it would be better for her to see him once he’d picked back up the pieces, but he’d been mistaken. He knew that the second she’d left, and it had done nothing to improve his sour mood over the course of the day.

Only one person had been brave enough to approach him since that morning. Cooke had left him no choice but to open the door to let her in so she could scrub the blood from the floorboards and his boots, barking about his unusual disregard for the state of his ship. Whether she knew what had happened, he wasn’t sure. He’d merely accepted her criticism and sat silently in the corner, arms on his knees, as she worked, then stayed there long after she had left.

Killian looked around, half expecting to see the night watch working diligently around him, but besides him and a half-dozing younger crewman on anchor watch, the deck was empty. He huffed at himself in annoyance, realizing that he’d never given the order to pull anchor and continue sailing for Misthaven. In his rage, he’d once more neglected to captain the Jolly as she deserved, and shame washed over him once more.

The ship swayed beneath him, and he nearly lost his footing before he decided it was safer to sit before he fell. He ran his hand over the pine boards beside him, noticing their smooth, freshly-oiled sheen. The crew had no doubt spent the day washing his father’s blood from the deck, once again cleaning up a mess their captain had left behind for everyone else to deal with.

Everything he had looked at everywhere today had reminded him of what a villain he was, and he was at his wit’s end. Laying where he sat, he stared up at the sky, hoping he could somehow lose himself somewhere among the stars. He wanted to shout at the heavens, to curse any gods that would listen for who he was and what he’d been created to become. He wondered how many other people sat beneath this same night sky, wondering why they’d been chosen to become villains when they wanted so much more for themselves. But screaming and beseeching took more than Killian could give, so he closed his eyes and just breathed, wishing for something,

anything

that could take away what had happened, or even who he was.

His eyes shot open, and he reached up, tearing the brown, aged glass flask he’d worn for so many years on a leather strap from his neck with a solid yank.

If there was anything in this realm that could give him what he wanted...

“I thought I might find you here.”

Killian nearly jumped out of his skin as he dropped the flask and twisted to face Emma. She was nearly standing over him, hair illuminated in the dim moonlight around her, and he couldn’t for the life of him remember hearing her walk up. Somewhere deep within his drunken stupor, he registered that she’d spoken, and he sighed heavily, convincing himself to think. After a long moment, he smiled softly at her words,

his

words from the night before, and flung out his arm. The tip of his hook plunked awkwardly onto the deck beside him, and his mouth felt like cotton as he smacked his lips and said, “Join me, love. The view is incredible.”

“I’ll bet,” she replied hesitantly, and she stooped down to pick up his flask before sitting beside him. Her worn, oversized sweater drooped down her arm, and she reached up to fix it. The gold thread at the cuffs caught his eye, and as he looked closer, he saw that it wasn’t hers at all, but his own sweater from his years in the Royal Navy. He smiled, a male satisfaction that he couldn’t explain warming his chest.

“Ah. Well, now I must admit that you were my favorite part of the view, but this will do nicely too.”

Emma peered at him out of the corner of her eye, smile fading as a hiccup bubbled from his lips. “Did you drink that whole bottle?”

“Aye, I’m afraid I did. I apologize profusely for my drunken demeanor. It’s bad form to be in such a state around a lady.”

Emma turned the vial over in her slender hands, and Killian’s chest eased a bit to see that it hadn’t been broken or spilled.

“Did it help?”

Killian paused at her question. He’d kicked her out earlier, shut down her attempts to check on him, and yet she sought him out again and still chose to care. Gods, he didn’t deserve her. “No,” he admitted weakly, turning his face back to the sky and laying once more on the floor.

“I wish you could tell me what you’re thinking,” she whispered.

“Emma, I can’t put this darkness on you. You don’t deserve to share in my burdens.”

Her hair shifted as she moved closer and looked down into his face. “I want to,” she breathed. “You don’t deserve to go through any of this alone. Let me help you.”

A tear leaked from the corner of Killian’s eye at her words, and he clamped his lips to hide their wobbling. He was quiet for a moment, trying desperately to control himself, before he affirmed, “Okay.”

Her face was wreathed in shadows, but the silvery glow of her hair mesmerized him. He could see the outline of Emma’s cheeks lift with a small smile. “A truth for a truth?”

“Aye, love,” he nodded. “That seems appropriate.”

“The floor is yours, Captain,” she offered, pulling her legs to her chest. The tips of her boots grazed his shoulder, and he wished for nothing more than to put his arms around her, to simply touch her in any way. He lifted his hand to brush over her leg, but halted. Though his hand was clean, he could still feel the stain of his father’s blood on it, and the blood of a hundred men before him. That hand didn’t deserve to touch someone like her, and he let it fall back to his side.

“I feel like I’ve failed you,” he admitted.

“Failed?” Emma repeated. “You saved me.”

Killian swallowed thickly, cursing his rum addled brain for his bluntness and utter inability to string any coherent thoughts together. “I…” He sighed heavily. “I don’t know. I just feel like…”

He huffed and fidgeted in frustration, but he stilled completely as Emma stroked a hand through his hair with heartbreaking gentleness. “Take your time,” she encouraged.

Her fingers threaded in his ruffled hair, and she gently untangled each strand for long moments while he collected himself.

It was truly impossible, he felt, to tell her how he felt. The regret, the anger, the heartache - it was all so much he thought he might burst. How could he explain to her that he felt like he’d truly ruined any chance he had at winning her heart when he couldn’t even talk to her about his feelings?

“What is this?”

Not wanting to break their contact, Killian tried not to move his head as he slid his eyes to her hand with the vial.

“I’ve seen you wear this every day since I’ve known you,” she continued, her other hand still at work on his hair. “But I’ve never bothered to ask you what it is. Or what any of your other charms mean.”

He smiled sadly at her and cleared his throat as quietly as he could. “That’s the only one with any real purpose,” he whispered. “It’s pixie dust.”

Emma cocked her head. “Like fairy dust?”

“Aye,” he hesitated. “But stronger. It’s grown in Neverland, in the tops of magical trees. Its power is...intense. The magic is, uh, shaped by what guides its wielder.”

He trailed off, ashamed that what had inspired him to take the pixie dust was revenge. Only moments ago, out of pure selfishness and embarrassment, he’d contemplated using it on himself. Yet another weakness, another reminder of his old, wicked ways that twisted low in his gut like a blazing knife. But perhaps it would be useful to Emma and her parents. Maybe he could offer it to her, to them, to help in some way.

Shaking himself from his thoughts, he returned his gaze to her. “Would you like to have it?”

Emma shook her head and extended the vial to him with a small smile. “No, you need it more than I do.”

He took it from her, but sadness overwhelmed him at the fact that she truly felt he deserved this powerful magic more than she did. She was preparing to fight to the death to win her own kingdom back, and here he was, a self-loathing drunken mess on the floor.

“I don’t deserve your kindness,” he finally articulated. “I feel like I’ve failed you not in our agreement, but in that I have tried to be a better man for you and yet the villain has prevailed. All I wanted was to protect you from Blackbeard and his vile miscreants, but when I saw my father...I played right into his hands.”

Emma’s brows furrowed, question in her eyes.

“He wanted this, to some degree. To get me to admit that I was still the same person I’ve always been. I’ve been going over it all day. If he’s been following us for as long as he claimed, he knew I’d changed, and still I tried to convince him that I was something I’m not anymore. In doing so, I became that person, and now there’s more blood on my hands that I may never wash away.” He swallowed again, searching the dark spaces between the stars above. “I thought that helping you and your family would make me a hero, but it just revealed once more the villain I can never be rid of. And in that, I have failed to deserve you.”

Emma paused, considering, fingers now scraping along his scalp in delicious circles. He was thankful for the contact, for the anchor that kept him from losing himself in the sea of emotions he’d been drowning in all day. “What you did was selfless - you were trying to protect others. That’s the very spirit of heroism. Why do you think that makes you a villain?”

“Because a real hero would have found a way to protect innocent people without having to kill a man in cold blood. A hero always finds another way.”

She huffed a bitter laugh. “If you knew half the things my parents had done in their past, you would know that’s not necessarily true.”

“But everyone will always see me that way, love, whether that’s true or not. The story’s been written, and this is my part to play.”

Emma’s hand retreated, and he nearly whined in protest before she snapped, “Then screw them.”

Killian’s head swam as he struggled to sit up, and an intense bout of nausea nearly blinded him. He was never drinking this much rum again. “What?”

“I said,

screw them,

” she said forcefully, her eyes blazing with an intensity that on a better day would have sent him running, or at the very least bracing himself for impact. “
People are going to tell you who you are your whole life. You just have to punch back and say, ‘No, this is who I am.’ You want people to look at you differently? Make them.”

“Swan, I’ve tried, but look at what happened today.”

“You think I don’t know what it’s like?” Her eyes twinkled as she raised her brows. “I’ve been told I’m a mess and treated like a disappointment my entire life. Every time I step out of line or make a mistake, I’m judged and shunned and treated like a freak by everyone in the palace.”

Killian watched her, quietly, and her shoulders slumped as her voice softened. “Just because I make a mistake doesn’t make me any of those things. People believing them about me doesn’t make them true either.

I

know who I am, and you know who you are.

You

get to decide that. Not fate, not destiny, not the opinions of others.”

Tears stung his eyes, and his heart felt like it could burst. “I’d like to think I can be good,” he whispered, turning his gaze back to the sky. “But I’m not sure yet.”

“Then do you want to know what I think?”

He hummed, not knowing if he wanted to hear this truth, unsure he could take any more blows to his tattered heart.

“I think you’re a hero, Killian.”

His heart stopped dead in his chest, and he scratched nervously at the back of his neck, unable to look at her, unable to speak, unable to do anything but fumble with the vial in his hand.

“You

are

a hero,” she continued as she took the pixie dust from him and tied it once more around his neck for him, “and the truth is that I’m glad I’m with you. I’m even happier that we’ve found a way to be friends.”

The way she’d tripped over ‘friends’...Killian’s heart jolted back to life and thundered wildly in his chest.

She cleared her throat and looked away, as if noticing his attention had snagged on that word. “I think anyone else would have sold me out by now, or might have taken Blackbeard’s offer today. I also think that a true villain wouldn’t be this upset about the loss of one man’s life, whether he was evil himself or not. Only a hero laments like this over a death at his hands.”

A kernel of truth rang in her words. Captain Hook in decades past had killed without a second thought, and never lost a wink of sleep. He’d had a code, and never killed innocent men, women, or children, but the men who’d crossed him, who’d threatened him...no, he had never mourned their deaths, never paused to consider the weight of their murders on his soul.

Perhaps this was the mark of a changing man.

The endless dark cloud over his soul lightened, and Killian wondered for a brief moment if it was some trick of Emma’s light magic, if her words were some soothing spell she’d placed like a balm over his self-loathing heart. He didn’t know if it was his sudden levity, or the rum, but he spoke before he could change his mind.

“I’m afraid I have another truth I can’t keep from you any longer,” he said, voice cracking. He swallowed hard, and her eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. “Do you want to know what I thought of you when we first met?”

“Hmm...” She looked away dramatically as she hummed. “That I was an annoying, spoiled, royal brat?”

“Well, I can’t deny my prejudice back then,” he chuckled.

Emma’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “Oh, so you’ve changed your mind?”

“I feel that’s a fairly obvious answer,” he intoned with a wink.

He could just barely see a tinge of color bloom on her cheeks, and he fisted his hand to keep from reaching across and stroking his fingers down the warmth. “What did you think of me, then?”

“The first moment you opened your mouth, I thought you were quite possibly the most challenging person I’d ever met in my life.”

Her brows shot up, mouth popping open in a perfect ‘O’. “How is that any better?”

“Because I’ve always loved a challenge,” he smirked, tongue darting across his bottom lip in the way he knew made her stare and blush.

“So that’s your truth? That you think I’m challenging?”

“I’m working my way there, Swan! Patience is a virtue,” he said, then added under his breath, “

Which you don’t possess.”

She scoffed and tried to flick his nose, but he caught her wrist and held it tightly as she tried to jerk it away, then stroked his thumb over the back of her hand once she relaxed. Killian smiled warmly as he grazed the gold sapphire ring on her finger.

“I seem to remember that you were completely repulsed by our fake marriage, love,” he teased, quirking a brow.

“What can I say, you have excellent taste in jewelry,” she replied, avoiding his eyes. “Must be a pirate thing.”

“Perhaps.”

“I see you still wear yours too,” she pointed out, angling their hands so that his own silver and sapphire ring glinted in the moonlight.

He smiled at her. Indeed, he hadn’t taken it off since the day he’d bought the pair. “Of course I do,” he said with a shrug. “We never fake divorced.”

Watching their hands, Emma twisted her fingers, slowly entwining them with his own. When she returned her gaze to him, his bravado faltered.

“When I met you, I thought you were beautiful and headstrong and clever. But more than anything, I had an overwhelming sense that you were a challenge I was destined to take on. I was so intrigued by you that I considered keeping you for myself, not as a prize but as a fascinating puzzle I’d be happy to spend the rest of my days figuring out. I’d never met someone before who was so many contradictory things at once, and it drove me mad trying to decipher you. You haunted my every waking thought and sleepless dream for over a year.” He shook his head and met her eyes shyly. “You still do.”

“I thought you hated me for escaping and costing you mountains gold,” she said warily.

“I did,” he agreed. “But I think more than anything I was mad at myself for being so distracted by you that I lost you.”

She laughed quietly. “Well that didn’t stick.”

“No, and when you showed up on your birthday looking like…” He closed his eyes at the sudden pang of fury at what had been done to her, but took a deep breath and tried again. “When I saw all the blood and the marks on your arms, I panicked. My only thought was to get you somewhere safe. Luckily the crew had the good sense to ask what was going on when they were headed back to the ship, otherwise I don’t know what we’d have done. But I was so angry and worried that someone had hurt you that I just ran before I had a real plan. It wasn’t until the next morning that I realized it all could have been a trap, before I remembered who I was to you and that your entire kingdom wanted me dead for it. I think that was when I started to suspect that I had mistaken my feelings for you as loathing.”

Where he’d expected to see rejection or hesitation on her face, he found only quiet surprise. “Killian…,” she breathed, pulling her hand from his.

“When we were shipwrecked,” he barreled on, afraid that if he stopped, he might never tell her, “and I said those awful things to you. I realized that I didn’t mean a single one of them, and I

knew

how I felt. But when I found you, you were so hurt, and I knew I had to win your trust. I told myself that I would be happy with whatever pieces you offered me, and the sarcasm and the friendship and the flirting became my reasons for waking up every morning.”

The words tumbled from his lips in an unpoetic jumble, and he could have died from humiliation. She was completely still, barely even breathing, as she watched him, dumbstruck.

Stop now, while you’re ahead.

Whether it was his own voice pleading with him or some long-forgotten deity who was experiencing enormous second-hand embarrassment, Killian couldn’t tell. He was an absolute mess, no better than a schoolboy admitting his first crush.

He swallowed once, twice, and silenced that voice.

Mere days ago, in the middle of a forest, she had kissed him, and hours ago, she had been close to doing the same thing again. He knew she had some kind of feelings for him, and it didn’t matter whether she had figured them out yet. He would take what she offered him and they would figure it out, together. But it was up to him to take the first step, to tell her how he felt.

To tell her that he loved her, whole-heartedly and unconditionally.

Killian offered her a small smile and she returned it with nervous hesitation, twisting her hands into the stretched out sleeves of his sweater. “Emma, I think things between us have been changing for a while now. Ever since Soria, since you kissed me I’ve wanted to tell you that -”

“When she

what?”

Killian groaned as David stormed toward them from the hatch, and he scrambled to get to his feet as Emma sprang up and advanced on her father. He’d nearly gotten balanced when the world tilted and he fell on his ass, remembering how drunk he was. “Bloody hell,” he cursed himself, the gods, the rum.

Maybe he should have sprung for a simple,

Emma

,

I love you

, and been done with it. They seemed to be masters at being interrupted.

“Dad, it was my choice,” Emma cut in harshly, putting a hand on her father’s chest.

Killian’s cheeks warmed. She was...

protecting him

.

David’s lip was curled as Killian looked up at him, and genuine fear gripped him. He didn’t let it show as he slowly stood and steadied himself against the wooden railing beside him.

“You and I can have this discussion later,” the prince warned.

“I don’t think there needs to

be

a discussion about this.”

“Emma -”

“

I’m not a child!”

“Go downstairs,” David barked, eyes still on Killian’s.

Emma bristled at the order, but she turned and looked at Killian. His heart cracked as she raised an eyebrow at him in question.

Will you be okay?

Blinking slowly, he nodded once and offered her a half smile before she spared another glare at her father and walked away. As she disappeared below deck, his shoulders slumped and he met David’s blazing stare.

“You kissed my daughter?”

Killian took a stumbling step forward, raising his hand and hook in front of him as if he were approaching a wild animal. “To be fair, she kissed me,” he muttered. “I only obliged her. The lady has made it clear that she’s not comfortable with this conversation, it would be bad form to continue any further.”

“An honorable man would have -”

“I won’t be receiving a lecture on honor from anyone this evening, mate.”

David took a deep breath that sounded a lot like ‘

gods help me

,’ and Killian warily watched as David’s hand shot out between them and stayed there.

“I came up here because I heard you’d finally left your room,” he ground out. Killian looked over his shoulder, and sure enough, the half-dozing night watch had disappeared. “I wanted to thank you, for this morning. For protecting my family.”

Killian took his hand, but didn’t respond.

“I know it wasn’t an easy call,” David said, understanding in his tone. “But you saved our lives. I can never repay that.”

A smirk took over Killian’s face before he could stop himself, and he fell victim to the rum as he drawled, “Oh, I’m winning you over. I can feel it.”

Why would you say something like that?

He just decided not to bash your bloody face in.

Killian cringed at his own words, and David’s own face fell.

“Today doesn’t change anything,” he said flatly. “Let me give you a bit of advice, Hook. She’s never going to love you.”

He bristled at the moniker, but retorted, “Is that so?”

“How could she?” David breathed with a cruel laugh. “You’re nothing but a pirate.”

Killian took a step forward, sure and steady, as he snarled back, “You don’t know me,

mate.

And you certainly don’t speak for her.”

“And you do?”

“I’d never dream of it. She’s more than capable of speaking - and deciding - for herself.”

Footsteps sounded on the deck behind them, and David tore his eyes from Killian’s to find Johnny creeping up from the hatch.

“Apologies, captain,” he offered with a wince. “I was asked to relieve Gordon.”

“On deck then, Jack,” Killian sighed. “His Highness was just leaving.”

Not even sparing a look over his shoulder, David disappeared below, and Killian was sure he was searching for Emma to make sure she wasn’t waiting at the captain’s quarters. The thought nearly made him smile to himself.

With a terse nod, Johnny climbed to the crow’s nest, and Killian loosed a long breath, looking out over the waves.

Days ago, David’s words would have wounded him deeply, would have made him question his relationship with Emma altogether. But where Killian expected to feel defeat and challenge at the prince’s words, he felt...nothing.

Nothing but the calm reassurance of Emma’s warm fingers in his hair, and the ghost of her lips on his.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Emma hadn’t slept in nearly two weeks. Between the incident with Blackbeard and her parents constantly bickering over the right plan once they arrived in Misthaven in a matter of days, she hadn’t found any rest. Even when she had managed to drift off for a couple of hours, it had been fitful. She could still feel the damp back of Killian’s shirt fisted in her hand, could still see the haunted look in his eye when she’d followed him back to his cabin after he’d killed his own father to save her family. That look still lingered in his gaze at the end of every long day on deck, and Emma hated herself for it. She could have -

should have -

done more to help him, to spare him from what he’d had to do to protect them. If she couldn’t use her magic to help the people she cared about, then what was the point of having it in the first place? She wondered if he thought the same thing, if he had been avoiding her these last days because of it.

Huffing a warm breath into her frozen fingers, Emma looked out over the dark abyss around her. It was well into winter in her kingdom, and as they travelled north, the weather got worse with each day. Choppy seas and longer nights made the passage more difficult than it had been when they’d fled six months ago at the end of summer. Killian had arranged for more than one night watch to ensure that the crew was alert throughout the night, and Emma had been more than happy to volunteer for a nightly watch, if only to have a bit of time to herself.

The problem was, the last few nights, she’d really become stuck on why Killian wasn’t speaking to her beyond their basic duties. She understood that he’d been through something horrible, and on her behalf to boot, but she’d thought that night, when they were on deck alone…

It didn’t matter what she thought. It didn’t matter that she had known she was falling in love with Killian for a while now, that she had been avoiding that fact for months. At the end of this long and complicated journey, he would still be a pirate and she would still be a princess, and she would have to watch from her gilded window in the palace as he sailed off into the sunset with a sizable portion of her dowry as a reward for helping her. Perhaps there wasn’t any more to this situation than that.

No. That wasn’t fair, not to Killian or to her. Though it might be easier to believe, his actions hadn’t been those of a man merely in this for the money. Something had fundamentally changed between them since the days when she had only been a ticket to a fortune, and she knew that what they had couldn’t be summed up to a ransom. They both felt something real, something...well, she didn’t really know how to describe it.

She shook her head, breath clouding in front of her face as she sighed sharply. She wasn’t dense - she knew what he’d been about to admit to her before her father had appeared. The problem wasn’t that she didn’t know if he loved her - she could see how he felt written plainly across his face nearly every time she caught his gaze lingering on her across the deck or the crowded mess below. No, the problem was that she didn’t know if he loved her more than the life he would have to leave behind to be with her. As the sole heir, she wasn’t in any position to give up the crown, to leave her people in the hands of whomever would line up to take the throne if she ran off with him. It didn’t stop her from dreaming of their circumstances being different.

“You’re in my spot.”

Emma leaned forward, peering down onto the deck from her position in the crow’s nest. Johnny stood there, a lopsided grin plastered on his face. She smiled back at him.

“You didn’t call seat check,” she retorted, then swung down the ropes to greet him.

“There we are,” he said, wrapping his arms around her. “I feel like I never get to see you.”

She shivered at his warmth, pulling the sleeves of Killian’s worn sweater over her icy fingers. She still hadn’t returned it, and truly had no intentions to - she liked the look on his face every time he saw her wearing it. “I know,” she sighed into his chest.

“How’s your training going?”

A groan escaped before she could stop it. It wasn’t that her practice with her magic was going poorly. In fact, the little she had been able to work on had gotten very good in the last few weeks. She could light and douse candles, summon breezes, move objects for short distances. But the issue was that she had very limited knowledge of what she was truly capable of. Her lack of formal education in her childhood was hampering her potential, and it was becoming hard not to feel bitter about it.

“It’s progressing,” she finally answered with a frown, pulling away to sit on the net behind her. “Not as quickly as anyone would like, though.”

Johnny took a seat beside her, shoulder to shoulder. “But you feel comfortable with it?”

It was a loaded question. Ever since their argument about magic when she’d wrecked the Jolly all those months ago, they had been walking on eggshells around each other. In fact, this was the first conversation she’d really had with him beyond friendly banter since that day. She hadn’t been angry with him - not really. She’d been angry with herself, with Killian, and with their situation, and she’d taken it out on one of her oldest friends in the world. Shame washed over her.

“I do,” she nodded, meeting his gaze.

He watched her, considering. “Good,” he finally said with a small smile. “I’m happy for you then.”

A cold breeze rustled through her hair, licking at the back of her neck, and Emma shivered once more. Johnny laughed, then put an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close.

“You always were too proud for your own good,” he teased.

“You’re one to talk,” she scoffed, but gave him an appreciative look.

They sat in silence for a long moment, the sound of the waves crashing onto the side of the ship a steady song as she sank into his warmth. He’d been a loyal friend her entire life, from the palace to now, and when he had expressed concern for her well-being, she had shut him out for months. She hadn’t been fair.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted, unable to contain herself. “For everything, really. But I’m sorry I haven’t been a better friend to you since I’ve been on board.”

Johnny smiled, giving her a gentle squeeze. “It’s okay. I understand. You’re in a tricky situation.”

And she knew he truly did. If there was anyone who understood where she came from and how she felt, it was him. She smiled up at him.

“I bet you’re glad your parents are here,” Johnny whispered, his face suddenly solemn.

Emma knitted her brows together, shifting slightly. “I am,” she hesitated. He shot her a look, and she sighed. “I’m happy they’re alive,” she clarified, “and I’m glad they’re here so that we can make a plan and know what we’re headed for. But sometimes...it’s hard to live with them breathing down my neck after I’ve lived for so long without the pressures of my normal life.”

The weight of his stare was crushing as he considered her answer. “You know,” he drawled, “Mr. Smee claims that he saw something interesting in the Captain’s quarters when he went to warn Jones about Blackbeard.”

Her heart skipped a beat and she looked away, her face heating.

Shit

. Had that rat been telling everyone on the ship that he’d walked in right as she was about to kiss Killian again? She didn’t know if she could meet Johnny’s eyes.

“Did he?” she asked with forced casualness.

“M-hmm,” he hummed, raising a brow. “I also walked in on a very tense conversation between Jones and your father the very same night, right over there, as it were.”

Emma followed where he inclined his head, and she blanched. She hadn’t seen Johnny pass her below when she’d left Killian to be berated by her father, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t have come from a different direction.

“Did you?” was all she could muster.

“I did,” he confirmed, giving her shoulders a squeeze. “Is there something you would like to talk about?”

“No,” she said quickly. Too quickly. No, she didn’t want to talk about Killian with him. She didn’t want to talk about her fears and her feelings and everything that had happened between them and how confused she was and -

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to slow her thoughts. She could still feel Johnny’s eyes on her.

If he had been anyone else, Emma might have given anything to be somewhere else at this moment. She couldn’t even think about how she felt about Killian most days beyond acknowledging that there was something there. How could she tell someone else that she thought that they were balancing upon a precipice that might wholly consume her if she let herself fall? She wasn’t even sure she could be that vulnerable with anyone - she’d never had the opportunity to be.

But maybe that was why she and Killian were stuck here, on this ledge that would either doom them or cause them to soar. Maybe her lack of vulnerability was truly a weakness, and the only way to solve that was to take the first step.

“Yes,” she corrected, her voice weak, opening her eyes. “Yes, I do want to talk about it. But I don’t know how.”

Understanding filled Johnny’s eyes as he met hers. “I find the best place to start is usually the beginning.”

She nodded, gathering her thoughts. Where was the beginning of their story, this twisted, confusing thing between her and Killian? What could she tell Johnny that he didn’t already know? He’d been there for all of it, watching from the outside as something had shifted and changed between them. But, she supposed, he didn’t know her perspective on any of it. It had been Johnny himself that had told her when she was younger that she wore her emotions too close to her heart.

It’s good for people to see their leader care about something sometimes, Em,

he’d advised her.

Feeling isn’t a crime.

And so she started at the beginning. Her eyes were stuck on the center of the deck - over a year ago, she’d fought him brutally and unfairly to win back her freedom. Two weeks ago, though, in that same spot, he’d been about to admit that he loved her. So much had changed that perhaps it would take hours to get the story right. She didn’t know if they had that much time, but she was willing to try. She told him how she felt when she’d been kidnapped, about her and Killian’s confrontation in the woods when she’d escaped thanks to his help. She told him about why she decided to come back to the Jolly when she was being chased, about how she’d felt when she realized they had started to trust each other. She told him about the shipwreck, and the awful things that Killian had said to her, and how he had apologized, how he’d laid his brother’s sword between them while they slept as a sign of trust, and how that had stirred something inside her. Finally, carefully, she told him what had happened in Soria, and how she had kissed him in the woods. Words were like sandpaper on her tongue as she finished, as she explained what she had been doing in Killian’s room when Smee had found them, and what her father had interrupted before Johnny himself had walked on deck, and how Killian had been distant since that night. Her voice was barely more than a whisper when she finished, but she felt as though a great weight had been lifted. When she looked back to Johnny, a knowing smile graced his freckled face.

“I didn’t realize there was quite the story there,” he admitted, removing his arm from her shoulders and shaking his hand out.

Emma shrugged. “I don’t know that I did either until recently.”

Johnny stood, stretching his arms over his head. How long had they been sitting there? She didn’t know - she’d been so lost in trying to get it all out that she hadn’t thought about how long it took.

“You want to know what I think?” he asked, brows raised.

“Do I get a choice?”

“Of course you do. I can simply offer my incredible listening skills,” he said with a wink, “or I can offer you my sage counsel.”

Emma raised a brow of her own. “Sage counsel it is.”

“I don’t think Jones is avoiding you.”

She laughed. Genuinely laughed at him. “He hasn’t spoken more than once a day to me since that night. I don’t even know what I did wrong! I purposefully kept quiet because I

knew

I would say the wrong thing and mess it up!”

“How about this: I

know

that he’s not avoiding you.”

“How?”

“Because I heard your father threaten him to stay away from you.”

Her jaw dropped as silence filled her head. Of course he had. He’d always been over-protective of her. She was almost embarrassed that she hadn’t puzzled that one out for herself.

Love makes you blind

, she thought bitterly.

“Did he say anything...cruel to Killian?”

Johnny shook his head, leaning against the mast. “No,” he answered. “He was blunt. But he did thank Jones for saving you. Actually, when your father suggested you wanted nothing to do with him, the good captain stepped in to defend you, said that you could decide for yourself. A real feminist, that one.”

“But he’s still stayed away,” Emma muttered, a bit stunned.

“Have you gone to him?”

Emma cringed. No - no, she hadn’t gone to him. She thought that he’d needed time and space to sort through what had happened. She hadn’t stopped to realize that maybe he’d needed her.

“I thought not,” he admonished, narrowing his eyes at her. “If you really want my input, Emma, I think that he really feels something for you. I’m the youngest member of his crew by decades, I’ll admit, but even the rest of the men notice that he’s different now, and we all know why. It’s almost nauseatingly obvious. Killian Jones is an honorable man, and I don’t think you should waste your chance because you’re too scared to say something to him about it. I can tell you really like him, so what’s holding you back?”

“Aside from us being completely different people?”

Johnny pursed his lips, setting her with a hard stare.

Try again, Em.

“Fine,” she huffed at him, pushing herself off of the net with a grunt. “I’m worried that even if I do tell him how I feel, fate will find a way to keep us apart.”

“Fate?”

“Yes,

fate

,” she snapped, bristling at the word, at the thought she’d been afraid to admit to herself for weeks. “I’m the product of True Love, Johnny. I have light magic. I was born to be a hero. And Killian…”

“And Killian is a villain,” Johnny finished, his voice soft.

Emma nodded, blinking back tears of frustration. “I don’t think he’s a villain. I know that he’s done bad things in the past, but I believe that people can change. He wasn’t always like this. He wasn’t born a villain, he became one to survive.”

Johnny shuffled his feet, hesitant to meet her stare. “What does he have to say about this?”

“Killian…” she sighed heavily, scrubbing her cold fingers down her face. “He thinks he

is

a villain, and that he doesn’t deserve me.”

“There isn’t a single person in this realm who deserves you, Emma Swan,” Johnny said, crossing his arms over his chest. “But if anyone does, I’d say it’s the man who has changed his entire life to try to take on the task.”

“That’s what I said!” Emma exclaimed, throwing her palms out in front of her. “I’ve tried to tell him that.”

“Then you just have to keep saying it until he believes it.”

Emma laughed coldly. “At a certain point, it’s like talking to a brick wall.”

“That sounds remarkably like a stubborn woman I know,” he pointed out with a hard stare. “Don’t give up on him. You’ll regret it for the rest of your life if you don’t give it a shot.”

“And what happens when he starts to believe me?” Indeed, that was the real problem. “What happens when we admit our feelings and there’s nothing left to do but be together? What about my parents and Misthaven and all the rest of it?”

“Damn the rest of it,” he said simply. “I don’t think your mother is as opposed as David, and if you love each other as much as I think you do, the rest will work itself out.”

Emma looked away, unable to meet his stare.

They

did

love each other.
She knew they did, had known they did for so long. But there was a petrifying fear that somehow admitting it would be the beginning of the end that she hadn’t been able to shake. 
Warm hands braced her shoulder, and she looked up into Johnny’s face. “You deserve to be happy as much as he does, Em. Give yourself that chance.”

She shook her head. “I don’t know how.”

“Yes you do.” He smiled down at her, winking quickly. “And I think we both know where he is right now.”

He knew her so well she almost laughed. If she didn’t go now...they both knew she wouldn’t have the courage once the sun came up and everything looked like the day before, and the days before that. She didn’t even think as she gave Johnny a nod and descended into the dark belly of the ship, winding her way through cramped hallways on memory alone until she stopped at a worn oak door.

Lightly, Emma rapped on the door with a knuckle. Her heart raced in her ears so loudly that she was afraid that someone might be able to see it beating in her chest through her coat. She couldn’t tell if she wanted Killian to be awake or not, but if he was asleep, she would certainly take the opportunity to bolt.

The long silence on the other side of the door felt like an eternity, and she turned on her heel, ready to walk away when she heard it crack open behind her.

“Emma?”

She froze midstep, cringing at the gravel in his voice. He

had

been asleep. Of course he had - it was probably three in the morning. Slowly, she turned, taking in his sleep-mussed hair. Her heart nearly stopped as she noticed that he wasn’t wearing a shirt. Heat flooded her cheeks as she looked away.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, unsure where to look. “I...I don’t know why I thought you would be awake. I should have realized the time.”

He blinked, as if trying to process what she was saying. “I always have time for you, love,” he lilted, stepping to the side. “Come in.”

She hesitated, watching him carefully. Everything in her screamed at her to run. “I don’t want to get you in trouble. I know what happened with my dad.”

Killian snorted softly. “I can handle a disgruntled father, Swan. Is that why you’re here?”

“Yes,” she replied softly, stepping inside the dark room. “And no.”

He hummed sleepily as he closed the door and crossed the tiny room to light a lantern by his bunk. She didn’t say anything as she watched him, unable to tear her eyes away from the way the muscles in his back shifted as he pulled a thick sweater over his head before facing her once more, the sleeve of his left arm dangling where his hook should have been. The lazy smirk on his face told her that he knew exactly what she’d been doing, and that he enjoyed it immensely. Her cheeks heated once more.

“Well?” he yawned, faint amusement dancing in his sapphire eyes.

It occurred to her that she really didn’t know what she was going to say. An awkward silence stretched as she searched for words,

any

words. She swallowed hard. “How have you been?”

She could have beat her head against the wall until she fell unconscious.

Of everything you meant to say,

that’s

how you want to start?

Shadows dimmed Killian’s gaze, and she wished more than anything that she could put her arms around him to chase them away. “I’m fine.”

Fine

. She couldn’t expect more than that. Not after what he’d been through. She nodded. “Fine is good.”

Killian narrowed his eyes, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “Not that I don’t enjoy your company,” he drawled, “but what exactly did you wake me for?”

She swallowed hard. Honesty would have to do. “I miss you.”

The other corner of his mouth curved upward. “You saw me before dinner.”

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

He raised a thick brow. “Do I?”

Gods, who had the energy to be this testy at this hour?

“Why are you being difficult?” she asked, crossing her arms.

“Emma,” he breathed, slumping into the chair at his desk. “Love, we’ve been here before.”

Her heart raced. She thought it might plummet through the floor before this was over. “Of course we have. This is your room.”

“That’s not what I mean,” he echoed, his tired eyes narrowing.

For a woman who’d had more training in public speaking than arguably anyone in the entire realm, she was utterly speechless. She knew exactly what he’d meant - they

had

been here before. Several times, if she recalled correctly. She turned her gaze to the porthole, watching as thick fog clung to the tide beyond. How many times had they been close to sharing their feelings with each other, only to be interrupted or to sabotage themselves? A familiar paralysis started to creep into her bones. She didn’t know what gods to beg for the courage to make this time turn out differently.

“I’m trying my best, Killian” was all she could offer.

He grunted in response, and she could hear the words he so desperately wanted to say -

then try harder, Swan

. His eyes were heavy on her face, and she felt her cheeks heat in response. She’d woken him up - for what? To sit here and chicken out?

“I think -” She stopped abruptly, blinking hard before looking back at him. “I just needed time to sort things out.”

Killian’s rumpled hair flopped onto his forehead as he nodded. “And what do you need now?”

“A chance.” She almost didn’t recognize her voice - quiet and questioning - as she watched his expression shift. His wary grumpiness melted away before her eyes, replaced by something hopeful.

He cleared his throat, pushing himself up into something that closer resembled a sitting position rather than a heap of tired limbs. “A chance for what?”

“I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “To figure out what our situation really is, I guess.”

“I wasn’t aware we officially had a

situation

,” he said flatly, but his eyes sparkled.

She sat on the corner of his desk, raising a brow at him. “Well consider this your notification.”

“Is that why you’re here, then?”

Her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her sweater uncontrollably. The skin on her face felt so warm that she thought it might melt from her bones. “Maybe.”

He frowned. “That’s not good enough, love.”

Stop

, she told herself.

Stop being like this. Breathe.

Fear had begun to control her. “I don’t know what to say,” she whispered, her voice near breaking. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

Lies. She knew what he wanted - she just couldn’t admit that she didn’t know

how

to say it.

Slowly, Killian stood and gently took her hands in his own. He brushed his thumb over her knuckles and swallowed once. “Do you want to know what I want?” She nodded, and he squeezed her fingers. “I want you to tell me that you mean it - every look, every word, every touch. I want you to look at where we are right now and tell me that this was intentional. I want to know that you made every step of the way here and that it was worth it.” His eyes shone as he looked down at her. She could hardly breathe. “I think I’ve made my intentions clear. I want you to tell me how you feel, Emma, because I can’t go on like this, wondering day and night if you feel the same as I do.”

She forced air into her lungs. Killian’s expression was soft and completely open, something she or anyone else so rarely saw. A chance, she realized - he was giving her a chance, just like she’d asked. And she couldn’t bring herself to even open her mouth. She didn’t know where to begin, and she knew he could see the fear on her face.

“What do

you

want, Emma?” he asked softly, letting her hands fall into her lap as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and grazed his thumb across her cheek.

This was so different than the last time she’d been here. Last time had been a cat playing with a mouse in the best way, but this time, he was letting her take control. It had to be her choice, she knew, whether she told him how she felt. He couldn’t trap her into it, and she couldn’t avoid it forever. It was why she was here.

You’ll regret it for the rest of your life if you don’t give it a shot

.

She sucked in another breath, her eyes dropping to the floor. Her shaky hands reached for his sweater, twisting her hands into the thick knit. His thighs brushed her knees as he stepped closer, and she sighed involuntarily as his warmth washed over her. Stolen moments and longing glances weren’t enough for him anymore, and they shouldn’t be for her.

His forehead brushed her hairline gently. “Talk to me, love,” he whispered beseechingly. “Whatever you want, and it’s yours. All you have to do is tell me.”

Everything she wanted was before her, right in her grasp. They both deserved happiness, and if one moment of bravery could possibly bring them a lifetime of it…

She tightened her grip on his sweater and peered up at him through her lashes, hoping she could control her voice as she responded, “You.”

Killian’s chest caved as the breath whooshed from his lungs in a silent sob. “Me?”

Emma nodded. “You,” she breathed, more firmly this time. “I want you.”

Everything was written across his face as his eyes darted between her own - the relief, the desire, the fear. She watched him, refusing to back away, refusing to take back her words.

“Emma…” he started, shaking his head slightly before he stopped talking altogether. His eyes swam with emotion. He swallowed, pupils widening, before he pulled her closer with his blunt arm at her waist, threading his fingers through her hair. His breath was warm against her face as he leaned in, and her eyes fluttered closed as he tilted her head back, claiming her lips with his own.

His kiss was featherlight, and Emma felt so weightless that she thought she might be floating above the desk. She unwound her hands from his sweater and slid them up his chest and around his neck, holding on for fear that she might fly away. There was nothing in this world that mattered more in that moment than the feeling of him, and the warmth spreading in her chest. With heartbreaking gentleness, he grazed his thumb over her cheek, letting his fingers rest against her neck. Their kiss in Soria had been hungry, insistent, desperate even. But this...the way Killian’s lips softly whispered over hers like a sacred prayer, the firmness with which he anchored his arm around her back - it was a moment she knew he was trying to savor. She too tried to memorize the slant of his mouth, the way his breathing hitched each time she grazed her nails over his scalp in careful strokes. Her chest ached. It wasn’t regret - no, she’d thought about that kiss in the forest every day and every night since it had happened. But something about the innocence, the chasteness of this moment made her wish that this had been their first kiss. It seemed more fitting, somehow. More like a beginning.

Her eyes were already on him when they finally parted, just far enough for him to breathe onto her lips, “Then I am yours.”

All thoughts completely vanished from her mind, replaced by the warmest happiness she’d ever experienced. It felt like she was going to burst from it, like if she opened herself up, pure beams of sunshine would flow from her veins. She squeezed shut her eyes against hot tears of relief and she crushed her mouth to his once more.

She didn’t realize she’d feared his rejection until he’d spoken the words. The writing had been on the walls - he’d been affectionate with her, he’d flirted, he’d openly become a better man for her. Of course he wanted her as she wanted him, but...it had been a relief to hear those words from his lips, to know that he wanted to try and fight for them as she did. Because she would fight - she would do everything in her power to keep this beautiful thing that had been built from the solid foundation of rock bottom, differences be damned.

Hunger consumed her, and with a contented sigh, she pressed her body to his. His breath quickened, and he swept her off the desk, lifting her to wrap her legs around his hips. She slid her tongue against the seam of his mouth and he opened for her, holding her tightly as he took surprisingly solid steps across the room before he knelt, setting her down on the edge of the bed. Her fingers trailed into the tangle of his black hair, and he dragged his teeth along her bottom lip in approval at her soft tug before pulling away and smiling broadly.

“I thought this was a one time thing,” he teased breathlessly.

“Shut up.”

His smirk was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. “I missed you too, Swan,” he whispered, tucking an errant strand behind her ear. His eyes darted between her own. “I wish I could say this wasn’t going to be complicated.”

“I know,” she sighed, brushing her fingers along his cheekbones.

“I’m a pirate,” he said quietly, flattening her hand against his face with his own.

“And I’m a princess.”

Killian loosed a heavy breath and closed his eyes for a moment.

Later

, she wanted to tell him.

Let’s talk about it all later, when everything is more settled.

When he looked back at her, she knew he understood. She watched as mischief bloomed over his features. “Only technically,” he taunted with a smirk.

She scoffed. “What is that supposed to mean?”

His hand trailed down her arm until it found the hem of her sweater, his fingers tracing teasing strokes along a sliver of skin beneath. “I’ve never known a proper princess that stole a man’s clothes and was bold enough to wear them to the scene of the crime day in and day out.”

Emma looked down at her clothes and offered him a coy smile. “I didn’t realize that such things mattered to pirates, but I could always return them to you.”

Delight flared in his eyes. “I won’t argue.” He nipped gently at the tip of her nose. “Shall I help?”

Killian watched her with predatory intensity as she lifted her chin, loosening her grip around his neck to push her face away from his. “What makes you think I need help?”

He hummed, still tracing his fingers along the hem of her stolen sweater. “I don’t. But since you’re not very keen on asking for it, I thought I’d offer my services. Free of charge,” he added with a lazy wink, his gaze still mildly sleep-addled beneath his smirking demeanor. She wondered if he thought, deep down, that this was all some sort of dream.

“And what services might those be?”

There was a pause as he took her in, smiling at her shiver as his thumb slid across her waist. “Whatever you need.”

She gently pressed a kiss to his nose in response. “There is nothing more that I could possibly want or need at this moment,” she whispered.

For the first time since she’d known him, genuine happiness lit his face, and it shone brighter than a midnight sun. Her throat squeezed. She desperately wished she could bottle this moment, this feeling, and hold onto it forever.

Killian’s lips crushed into hers, and she arched into him as his hand moved up her back beneath her sweater, his skin searingly warm against hers. His fingers grasped at her, as if he were afraid that if he let go this moment would end. She held him firmly, one hand fisting in his hair, and her legs tightened around him, drinking in the thrill of their contact. She couldn’t comprehend how she could be so content, yet still want more, more, more. A greedy groan tore from his throat, vibrating against her teeth, and her world tilted as he lifted her once more and slowly laid her down atop the mattress, his body a welcome weight over hers as he settled there. His mouth parted from hers only long enough to whisper the words that set her soul on fire, the glorious reforging of her heart with a piece that had somehow always been missing.

“I love you, Emma Swan.”
 
***
 
If this was what waking up in the arms of someone she loved felt like, Emma never wanted to sleep alone again. Warmth enveloped her, arms tightening around her body as her face nestled into a fluffy, knitted sweater. She would have given anything to stay here all day.

A relentless pounding at the door told her that was out of the question.

She lifted her head, blinking against the light streaming through the porthole. Killian’s bright sapphire gaze was already on her, and he smiled at her before dropping a kiss onto her forehead.

“Ready to face the music, love?”

David’s muffled yell sounded through the door. “I know you’re in there, Emma. Open this door right now!”

“No,” she groaned, dropping her head back onto his chest. “Tell him to come back later.”

Her head bobbed with the rise and fall of Killian’s chest as he laughed. “I don’t think that’s an option,” he groused, his every word punctuated by another beat of David’s fist against wood.

“Fine,” she sighed, untangling her legs from his. She pushed herself up, but Killian’s face chased hers, kissing her lightly before she could roll out of the bunk.

“Just in case he kills me in a moment,” he breathed as he pulled away.

Emma smiled down at him as she stood, smoothing her rumpled pants before slipping her boots on. “And you want that to be our last kiss?”

He furrowed his brows as he sat up, reaching for his own haphazardly discarded boots. “No,” he protested, quickly putting his shoes on. He ran a hand through his hair, peering around her into the mirror and frowning. “I’m hoping my very magically-gifted sweetheart will protect me if it comes down to it.”

“

I can hear you in there, you know!”

David screeched through the door, and Emma cringed.

“You can protect yourself just fine,” she hissed, combing her own fingers through her tangled mess of a braid. It didn’t paint a pretty picture. She would have to redo it, but now wasn’t the time.

“Yes, but…” he huffed, walking to the door. “Call me old fashioned, love, but I’d like to avoid hurting the father of the woman I love.”

Emma smiled at him, tucking a stray strand of hair into her braid. “No duels for my hand, then?”

Killian gave her an exasperated look. Panic filled his eyes as the siege on his door continued, but he grabbed the latch and waited for her signal. She squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. His head tilted slightly.

Together?

She nodded.

Always.

***
 
Emma stared up at the stars, Killian’s chest warm and solid against her back. Trees poked up into the heavens on the horizon, dark shadows against the starlight. Tomorrow they would arrive at the location her parents had decided would be best - a two day’s walk inland to the dwarves’ cottage. Her mother had lined everything up: somehow, she’d found a way to summon Ariel to get word to the dwarves that there would be a meeting, and to bring everyone they could to the cottage. It had stood abandoned for decades now, and no one would think to look there. The rest of the week had been spent on preparations - finding weapons, packing satchels, and giving instructions to the crew about what they were to do while Killian accompanied Emma and her parents on their journey.

She wished she could say that the conversation had been easy with her parents a week ago. It was messy and tense and no one left the room completely happy, but in the end, David had given in, mostly manipulated into it by Snow, and that had been the end of it. Emma had to give her father credit - once she’d made it clear that Killian made her happy, he’d done his best to be understanding...even if that understanding was sometimes a little curt in certain company. At least no one had been punched in the face.

“How are you feeling about tomorrow, love?”

Killian’s voice stirred her from her thoughts, and her fingers froze where they had been playing with his hook. She sighed and let her head fall back against his shoulder.

“I don’t know,” she answered truthfully. “Not having a solid plan yet is making me nervous. I know that my parents are trying to wait for the rest of the court to get a better idea of numbers, but...my gut tells me that something is going to go horribly wrong.”

He shifted behind her, his concerned gaze meeting her own. “What makes you say that?”

Emma shrugged. “Just a feeling. It just seems like too many things are up in the air. George has put us in a tough spot to come back from, and I don’t think he’s used up every arrow in his quiver quite yet.”

“Well, you do have something that your grandfather doesn’t.”

“Which is?”

“Fate,” Killian said simply. “You’re heroes, and heroes always win.”

She shook her head, laughing coldly. “You know as well as I do, that isn’t always the case.”

“So what’s the worst case, then?” he asked. “You try and lose? Your people are loyal. Once they see you trying to push the rebels off the throne, they’ll rally behind you. If we show them that we aren’t just leaving them to the hands of King George and his illegitimate reign, they’re sure to help as they did with your mother during Regina’s time.”

“Maybe.” Emma paused thoughtfully, worrying her bottom lip. “I don’t know how to explain it, I just feel like something else is at play here that we don’t know about.”

A shiver went down her spine as the cold metal of Killian’s hook lifted her chin. She looked into his eyes, and he gave her a reassuring smile. “Emma, whatever it is, we can face it together - all of us. This isn’t the first time your family has dealt with such circumstances, which now that I think about it, might not be such a comforting thought…” He made a show of narrowing his eyes, as if he were thinking really hard, and she swatted him playfully. She earned a laugh from him, and despite her best intentions, she smiled. “There she is. All I’m saying is that we stand a chance together. We just have to trust each other and our strengths, both individually and as a team.”

It was hard for her to fathom him talking about trusting her parents - the very royals he had despised so much when they’d first met. They’d come such a long way in the time they’d had. She supposed in a way they all were a team, even if half the team couldn’t really be considered friendly.

“You’re right,” she conceded, giving him a quick peck on the lips.

He hummed, his smile growing. As much as she had fallen for his smirk and wiggling brows, she loved the sight of his genuine smile so much more. “I’ll have to memorize this moment. I probably won’t hear that much in our future.”

Our

future.

That was what she was fighting for tomorrow and every day after.

“Whatever happens,” she whispered, tucking her head beneath his chin, “I will never give up on us. I know it won’t be easy, but I will never stop trying.”

A breath caught in his chest, and he gently kissed her hairline before he tightened his arms around her. “I should expect no less from a stubborn lass such as yourself.” She tried to pull away to glare at him, but his grip held firm, pulling her tightly against his chest. “It’s not an insult, Swan,” he soothed. “It’s one of the many things I love about you.”

They sat there for long minutes, watching the stars glimmer overhead. Ropes groaned and pulleys squeaked in the evening wind, the distant caw of seagulls floating in on the cold air. Guilt panged in her chest. They’d hardly spent a moment apart in the week that had passed, but she still hadn’t told him that she loved him too. It wasn’t that she was afraid, necessarily - there had been quite a lot of kissing and...other things that bordered on indecency that had kept her occupied and mostly unable to speak. But now, in the silence, it felt more comfortable to just be in his presence. She couldn’t bring herself to cross that final line, no matter how much she told herself she would regret it if something happened during the coming days.

No - she couldn’t think like that. They had time. They loved each other, and they were both willing to make whatever relationship they built together last. Once this conflict was over, she would make a show of it - she’d throw him a grand ball just to sneak him out into the garden and pour her heart out. They would have the time and the freedom to do just that.

But she couldn’t stand the idea of going into whatever was coming with regret. She tipped her head back, nearly sucking in a breath at Killian’s shimmering blue eyes. “A truth for a truth?”

He smiled, huffing a laugh as he stroked a hand down her hair. “Aye. What’s on your mind, love?”

“Regret.” His brows knitted together, his touch tensing on her back. “No, not like that. Sorry, I suppose that didn’t come out right.”

His hand resumed its path, gently trailing from the top of her head to the small of her back, but he said nothing. She marveled at his patience, at his ability to just listen, even when she was a bumbling mess.

“This past week has been wonderful, but it makes me regret that I didn’t admit my feelings to you sooner. I feel like I’ve robbed both of us of time like this. It wasn’t fair of me.”

“We all have our own journeys to face our feelings, Swan. That’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I’m not ashamed. Just…” She searched for words to convey the feeling that nagged her. “I just feel guilty.”

Killian laughed. “Those are synonyms, love.”

She pushed her shoulder back into his. “Fine. What’s your truth, then?”

He shook his head slowly. “My only regret,” he said, so softly his voice blended with the waves beyond, “is that I wasn’t brave enough to kiss you first.”

Emma’s heart sang, and they kissed beneath the sparkling heavens long into the night.
 
***
 
Emma stood, eyes stuck to the beach as she waited for Killian to return to the longboat. He’d carried her mother to the sandy shores to keep her clothes dry in the morning chill while David held the boat in place, and the Queen had given him a gentle pat on the cheek in thanks. Killian’s warm smile was nearly enough to calm Emma’s racing heart. Her throat gave a tight squeeze. In a matter of moments, she would step foot onto the very soil she’d fled when her people had needed her most. Her magic roiled with each lurch of the surf, churning her stomach.

“You look sick,” her father noted beside her.

Her answer was little more than a mumble. “I feel sick.”

“Emma, it’s not your fault. You did what you had to.”

She had no idea how her father always did that - read her thoughts without a single word to suggest what she was feeling. “How did you know that’s what’s bothering me?”

The King swallowed. “Because it’s what’s bothering me.” Her brows flicked up in surprise, and he laughed softly. “We’re more alike than you want to admit,” he pointed out, his eyes narrowing at Killian approaching from the shore. “I don’t mean to be difficult, Emma, I just...I want what’s best for you, and if you think it’s this pir-” He sighed. “If you think it’s Hook-”

“Killian,” she corrected.

“If you think it’s

Killian

,” he ground out, his grip tightening on the boat as an icy wave splashed up his leg, “then you have my blessing.”

Behind her, Johnny shifted. “Aw,” he sang, giving Emma a pat on the shoulder. “See? I knew dear old dad would warm up to him!”

“I wouldn’t say warm…” David said under his breath, eyes still pinned to Killian as he reached the longboat.

“Ready, love?”

She nodded and placed her hands on his shoulder, letting him lift her out and into his arms. Johnny passed her satchel to them and gave his captain a nod.

“See to what I told you,” Killian ordered. “The crew needs a detailed plan of that palace if we’re going to be any help in this fight.”

“Aye,” Johnny answered with a quick salute. He handed Killian one of the last two satchels, David taking the other, and began the long row back to the Jolly.

Mist from the crashing surf clung to Emma’s hair and lashes as Killian carried her, holding her tightly, and she shivered. “Aren’t you freezing?”

Killian nodded, but offered her a sweet half smile. “Better me than you.”

She laid a hand on his chest, concentrating. Her eyes drifted closed and he stiffened, but said nothing.

“Emma,” David warned. “Are you sure that’s wise?”

She brushed off the words, magic tingling at her fingertips as she felt tingling sparks permeate the heavy leather of Killian’s clothes. He gasped and nearly dropped her, but his hands were instantly warm against her back as he gripped her once more.

“Incredible,” he breathed. “I can’t feel the cold at all.”

The buzz of anxious energy lessened as she focused on keeping him comfortable, and she hardly noticed as he set her down onto the dreaded sand of the shore - her family’s shore by blood and right.

“Now,” she said, rubbing her hands together. “Let’s see if we can dry you two off then.”

Killian and David dropped their supplies onto the sand and didn’t argue as she set to work drying them with her magic, taking care not to set them on fire. It took longer than she cared to admit, but within minutes, everyone was warm and safely ashore, ready for the long days ahead.

For most of the day, Emma and Killian walked hand-in-hand, as did her parents. They talked softly, keeping well away from any roads or trails that her mother knew so intimately. She had lived and breathed these woods for so many years during Regina’s reign of terror, and it brought her some level of comfort to know that they had an experienced guide to the cottage. But the sun soon dipped below the trees, and they split up. David went hunting for a quick meal, Killian set up camp with twin tents, and Emma and Snow disappeared through the trees to find whatever dry wood they could for a fire. They couldn’t risk a big one, but even Emma’s magic couldn’t keep them warm at night despite her practice these last weeks.

“So,” Snow said lightly, picking up limbs as they picked their way through a thick bramble of trees and bushes. “How are things with Killian?”

Emma cut her mother a look out of the corner of her eye, stooping to grab a log before tossing the wet, rotted lump back. “You’ve been there for all of it.”

“I know. But...what’s the plan?”

“The plan?”

“You know,” Snow hesitated, bouncing on her feet. “Once all of this is over. Is he coming to stay at the palace?”

Emma laughed. “He may have warmed up to us, but I still don’t think he’s fond of our way of life.”

Snow was quiet for a long moment, picking through piles of sticks. “Surely he can’t hate royalty that much if he loves you as much as I think he does.”

Her words made Emma smile. Of course she noticed it. “No, probably not. But it made me afraid enough that I was afraid to tell him how I felt for a long time.”

“What changed?”

Emma hefted a sizable shard of a stump into the crook of her arm. It was large enough to burn low all night - perfect for their camp. “Johnny talked some sense into me,” she admitted.

“Ah,” Snow breathed with a smile. “He’s always had a habit of that, hasn’t he?”

“Yeah. He told me I would regret it if I didn’t try, and that I was being unfair to both of us by keeping it to myself.”

“Well, tough love can be a good motivator,” her mother said sympathetically. “But he’s right.”

“I know. But it still doesn’t change how complicated things are.”

Her mother faced her fully. “How so?”

“It’s the whole fate thing, you know?” Emma worried her bottom lip. “He thinks he’s a villain, and I’m the daughter of two of the most famous heroes to ever live. Even Killian has admitted before that we seem doomed from the start. I don’t know if I totally believe it, but it does make me nervous.”

It felt good to talk to her mother, she decided. She’d missed having someone to share her fears and triumphs with, and happiness bloomed in her chest. She wouldn’t take moments like this for granted another day in her life after coming so close to never having them again.

“Fate’s hand can only guide our lives so far, Emma.” She turned, walking back to camp and nodded for Emma to follow. “But it’s up to us to take steps to turn our futures into what

we

want.”

Emma nodded, weighing her words. “But all the heroes and villains stuff...fate has to ultimately control everything if the universe is tipped toward the heroes.”

“I’m not so sure it is,” Snow frowned. “I think that heroes - good people - win in the end because we believe in our morals more than someone doing horrible things for selfish reasons. When you fight for others, you fight so much stronger.”

“Wow...I’ve never thought of it like that before.”

Snow gave her a knowing look. “Call it a mother’s wisdom.”

Laughing, Emma rolled her eyes. “Let’s not take it that far.”

“Well, let me offer you another bit of wisdom before you take this moment from me,” she said, humor dancing in her tone. They stopped, and Emma could just make out Killian’s form working through the trees ahead. “Invite him to the palace. Tell him the invitation is from me if you want, but invite him to stay as long as he wants. You deserve this chance at finding True Love.”

Emma blinked back tears, and she nodded.

“And you never know,” Snow whispered over her shoulder as she walked toward camp once more. “He might find royal life to his liking after all.”

The thought warmed her, but more than that, she was grateful that after all the things they’d been through in the last two years that her mother was so supportive of her relationship. She could see that David was getting there too - he would just need more time.

Emma pushed through the brush into the circle of their camp, smiling at Killian as she dumped her firewood onto the ground. He smiled back, his eyes softening almost imperceptibly at the sight of her.

It didn’t matter if it took David a year or a decade to warm up to Killian, or if it took the same amount of time for Emma and Killian to figure out how to be together without compromising who they were. What mattered was that they had time to figure it all out.

She squared her shoulders, sucking in a steadying breath. Tomorrow would decide all of that - and she would be the master of her own fate.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Bone-deep, unrelenting cold was the first thing Killian noticed as he stirred from sleep.

In a weird way, he was thankful for it - for the numbness in his hands and feet, for the blistering wind howling through the trees. If it hadn’t been for the cold, he might have thought the last week had been a dream. Between the bad business with his father and the precious newness of his relationship with Emma, he’d been overwhelmed by so many emotions. After a century of feeling nothing but anger and hatred, he had to admit the sensation was a welcome development. In fact, most of his troubles seemed lighter now that he knew that Emma felt the same as he did. It was as though an enormous weight that had been bearing down on him for his entire life was now lifted and he was breathing for the first time. Snow felt like clouds, ice became diamonds glistening in the winter sun, and for the first time in his life, Killian felt the power of genuine hope. All because of Emma -

his

Emma.

His fingers absently reached across the icy soil for her, where she had fallen asleep as he’d watched over her.

“Tell me,” a too-chipper voice sounded somewhere above, “are all pirates this lazy, or is it just you?”

Killian cracked an eye, stifling a groan as he took in David’s bemused face against the dawn-stained sky. “My work ethic is actually outstanding for a pirate, you know,” he croaked. He looked over at where Emma had slept - empty. Snow was nowhere in sight either.

Shit.

He truly was the last one up. He winced at the stiff soreness in his back as he sat up, fully opening his eyes and taking in their sad camp tucked into the roots of a fallen tree.

“Not as spry as you look, are you?”

Annoyance pricked at Killian as he took in the mocking expression on David’s face, at the twinkle in his eyes. The past few days had been full of these games with Emma’s father - casually brushing off insults and finding ways to appease the man despite his resolve to hate him. It’s not that Killian blamed him at all - he merely wished it was easier to win his approval.

“Age considered, I’m doing just fine,” he drawled, standing in a less-than-graceful motion. David looked ready to laugh, but Killian tilted his head and slowly smirked in the way he knew made the man see red. “But at least I’ve still got my devilishly good looks.”

The smile instantly faded from David’s face as he took in Killian’s words. He opened his mouth to retort, but a delicate voice rang out from behind them. “I hope we’re not interrupting anything.”

Killian stepped toward Snow White, smiling politely as he offered to take the hefty load of wood from her arms. She gave his arm a pat of thanks, passing the branches to him before she stooped to stoke the fire before he started adding more fuel.

“Not at all,” David grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. “But we should get moving.”

“Not before we’ve eaten,” she said, jutting her chin toward the trees. “It sounded like Emma was able to catch something. We shouldn’t stay long, but we won’t make it far if we don’t take an hour to eat and warm up.”

As if on cue, Emma appeared carrying two rabbits. They were gangly from winter, but it would be enough to get them the little distance they had left to cross today. She gave him a shy smile which he returned, the simple greeting enough to set David in motion. He stepped into Killian’s line of sight and gruffly took the rabbits from her. “We need to stay focused today,” he said quietly, warning clear in his tone.

It was true; their journey today would be the riskiest. No matter what they schemed between the four of them, there would be no guarantee that Snow’s messages had even reached the dwarves. Worse, it was possible that they’d reached the wrong people entirely. But it was a risk they agreed they’d have to take. It had been decided that Snow and David would check the cottage while Killian and Emma secured the perimeter and hid until they got the signal to follow. Killian hadn’t been fond of the idea, but given his lack of familiarity with the territory and the fact that he refused to leave Emma outside alone, he’d relented.

Despite their confidence in the plan, two centuries of experience had Killian mentally running through the contingency plan as he helped prepare their meal. In the few moments he’d had when Emma had scouted ahead or stepped aside to relieve herself during their journey, he’d formulated a plan with Snow and David to get Emma to safety if the unexpected were to happen. It was part of the reason her parents had been so insistent about splitting up once they arrived - to give Killian time to grab Emma and run if given the signal. She would put up a fight when she realized what was happening, but Killian and her parents had agreed on one thing above all else the past few weeks: Emma’s safety was more important than anything today. And for her, he had to be focused.

“I couldn’t agree more,” he replied, maintaining eye contact until David dipped his chin in satisfaction.

Breakfast was warm and surprisingly filling, and once they finished they packed up their camp, doused the fire, and began the silent walk to whatever fate awaited them.
 
***
 
“I think we’re safe,” Emma whispered, her grip loosening on her sheathed sword. “The ground is too frozen to be sure, but I don’t see any sign of footprints.”

Killian nodded, raking one last wary glance through the trees. “Aye, it seems your mother picked a good location.”

The forest had been quiet since they’d arrived. There hadn’t been any signs of Snow’s allies entering, but she’d sworn that would be normal. They’d all been fugitives from the Evil Queen together and knew how to cover their tracks. Still, Emma persuaded her parents to take their time circling the cabin before they entered as an added precaution. As planned, they would be on their own for the next excruciatingly long few minutes. He cast a sidelong look at her worried expression and put a hand on her back, leading her to a hiding place within a hollowed out tree that Snow had pointed out before she’d left.

“They’ll be fine. We all will,” he promised. He squinted at the top of the dilapidated thatched roof of the cabin in the distance, watching for a moment to ensure no movement, before ducking into the small space with Emma, shielding her the best he could from any potential prying eyes.

“What makes you so sure?”

He smiled, brushing her wild hair from her face. None of them had bathed in the days they’d been back on land, and it was absurd that she could still be this beautiful in such circumstances. “Because a hero always has hope. Don’t lose sight of that. Your parents know what they’re doing.”

Emma shook her head, worrying her bottom lip. “I just…I have a terrible feeling, Killian. Something’s not right.”

His brows furrowed at her words, and electricity zipped across his skin as his hair stood on end. It would be a lie to tell her that her concern didn’t worry him - her instincts had rarely steered them wrong, and if the bravest woman he’d ever known was afraid…

“It’s normal to worry,” he assured her, brushing his thumb over her cheek. He paused, ears straining to make out any sound outside of the tree, but all seemed safe. “Do you trust me?”

“Of course I do,” she said, blinking up at him. Her focus shifted entirely to him, and his heart thundered at the intensity of it.

Gods, he’d never met anyone who could knock him off course so easily.

It’s safe,

he told himself.

Just don’t get distracted.

“Good.” He smirked at her, twisting the end of her braid in his hand with rakish audacity. “Then we have nothing to fear.”

Her eyes softened, the corner of her mouth lifting into a semblance of a smile.

Shit.

Would be always get this lost around her?

“There she is,” he chuckled, dropping a featherlight kiss onto the tip of her nose.

“While I’ve got you here,” she started, letting her hands rest on his chest, “I have a question.”

Killian tilted his head and quirked a brow. “Oh?”

She hummed in confirmation, averting her gaze. Color stained her cheeks, and he leaned back, heart thundering in his ears.

“I’ve been speaking with my mother, and she - no,

I

was wondering if…” She trailed off, toying nervously with his necklace before taking a deep breath and continuing. “Would you like to stay at the palace when this is all over?”

The words came out in such a rush that it took a moment to process what she’d said.

Stay.

At the palace.

With her.

His mind was utterly blank. Shock had replaced his worry, his awareness.

Stay.

She wanted him to stay.

It had crossed his mind more than once what would happen once this adventure ended. Admittedly, most scenarios he’d concocted in his mind had ended poorly. But never in his wildest thoughts or dreams had he imagined receiving an invitation like this, much less with the blessing of the queen.

Carefully, he asked, “What would happen to my crew?”

Emma shook her head, her eyes still downturned. “I don’t know,” she finally admitted. “I don’t have it all figured out. Maybe once all of this is over and you get the reward I promised, they can make new lives with their portions. Unless you would want to do the same.”

Killian’s heart nearly stopped beating. “Emma,” he said gently, tilting her chin up to meet his gaze. “Emma, you know this was never about the money, don’t you?”

Her silence wounded him in a still-aching piece of his soul.

Of course she had thought it was

, he realized. On more than one occasion he had led her to believe that she was only a duty, and he was a pirate by nature. His face heated. “I apologize if you ever thought that was true,” he whispered. “I only ever wanted what was best for my crew. For my part, I wanted to do what was right by you.”

“I know that,” she replied. “But I also know it’s a lot for me to ask of you.”

“What is, love?”

She hesitated. “Asking you to come with me. To give up your life because of my position. It’s not fair, and if I could have it any other way, if I wasn’t the only future of this kingdom and there was someone else that all of my people could depend on, I would choose it over and over again. But…”

“But you have a duty,” he finished, and she nodded sadly.

He watched her carefully. The guilt in her expression said enough about what thoughts she’d been battling, and if he hadn’t already told her, he would have admitted he loved her just for that bit of empathy. He’d deeply valued his freedom, his life on the seas for so many decades now. It was what he’d needed at a time when his life had fallen apart. But as he searched that place within him that had been hollow and cold for so long, he found that it no longer existed. His life as a scoundrel had led him down a dark path, but he knew now that all along it had been the path to her. Perhaps it was time for something new entirely. He gave her waist a gentle squeeze.

“I have been a pirate for longer than any man has the right to live. For most of that time, I enjoyed the spoils that this life afforded me. But Emma, that’s not who I am anymore, and even if it was, I would trade that for your happiness.”

Emma’s face was caught between a smile and a grimace. “And I would do the same for you, but what I’m asking-”

“What you’re asking for  is a future, and I want that as much as you do.”

Her brows shot up. “Really?”

“Of course,” he nodded, kissing her once softly. Her mouth was sure and gentle, but her chin wobbled as he pulled away. “Plus, I think Smee is itching for a promotion, don’t you?”

Her smile finally won, and she laughed. “Killian, I -”

By the time he heard the snap of the branch, it was too late.

A bright flash of light nearly blinded him as Emma’s magic flared, and the two men who’d snuck up on their hideaway were blown back by a wall of hard air. Emma panted, grabbing his hand and running from the tree.

How could he be such a fool? How had he allowed himself to be so distracted? They’d had a plan, and -

He had to get her out.

Frantically, he looked around, surveying trees. Had he missed the signal from her parents? Where had these men come from?

Get her out, get her out.

The two men weren’t alone. Killian barely drew his sword in time, herding Emma behind him, as a cloaked figure appeared from behind a dense thicket of bushes. Too fast to detect, a root burst from the ground. He stepped back, but too late to avoid being lashed in the shins as the root wrapped tightly around his ankles, snaking up his legs. Emma stared wide-eyed, and he knew by her expression that there was nothing she could do to help as the figure lifted their head and let the hood fall back.

Rumplestiltskin.

“Did you miss me, dearies?”

Killian’s heart dropped to his stomach and he thrashed against the roots. “No,” he spat. “I can’t say I have.”

The imp ignored him, his beady eyes focused with predatory intensity on Emma. “I see you found your parents. What a good girl.”

What…

Emma’s eyes met Killian’s as realization dawned on them both, a horrifying moment of clarity that they should have had weeks ago.

He’d been such a lovesick fool.

Every moment since they’d seen Rumplestiltskin on that island had been a trap. All of it had been a set up for this moment. And there was nothing they could do to stop what had been set in motion the moment Emma stepped foot onto the Jolly Roger.

With the snap of the Crocodile’s scaly fingers, the roots disappeared long enough for someone to seize Killian from behind, pinning his hand behind him as they hoisted him from the ground. He whipped his head around, watching Emma as she bucked wildly against the man who had detained her.

How had they not seen these men on their patrol?

No doubt the Dark One had whisked them in on cursed crimson smoke.

Killian’s teeth clenched so hard they could have broken. If he thought he owed Rumplestiltskin a death blow before…

“If you hurt her -”

“Now, now,” the imp chastised, waving a hand toward the cottage. “We don’t have time for your noble antics, dearie. Someone’s been waiting a long time to see you.”

Emma stilled behind him at the words, and his brows furrowed. Whether it was fear or good judgment he didn’t know, but something inside of him said to stay quiet, and so he did.

Another blood-curdling cackle. “Good. Now let’s go.”

Each step toward the cottage took an eternity. But as soon as the door swung open and revealed who was inside with Emma’s parents and a handful of guards, Killian nearly vomited. The man holding him shoved him inside, and the door slammed with frightening finality once Emma too was inside the ramshackle house.

“Nice to finally meet you, Captain.”

It was easy for Killian to forget that everyone else’s lives had continued while he’d been trapped in Neverland. Though they’d never met in person during their contract, Killian knew King George was descended from the man whose namesake had killed his brother. But seeing the resemblance in person - it was uncanny. Even the voice… They could have been brothers if it weren’t for minute differences he doubted anyone could have picked up in paintings. His eyes were sharper, his face more hollow. A wickedness radiated from him that his predecessor hadn’t outwardly possessed. His lip curled at the sight.

“I suppose the apple never falls far from the rotten tree,” Killian finally snarled in reply.

The king barked a harsh laugh. “That family history never seemed to matter when our bargain benefitted you,” he snapped, brow raised. “But it seems things have changed.”

George cast a confirming look at the Dark One, who giggled maniacally as he took a place in the corner, his eyes darting between Killian and Emma. It was a mistake to assume the most powerful being in the realms was little more than an obedient dog - George would find out soon enough. He just hoped that he could get Emma and her family out before it happened.

He searched frantically, but the only exit he could discern was the door from which they’d entered. Worse, the four guards in the way didn’t seem inclined to move anytime soon. Though they’d certainly been beat up, they were alert and ready for another round. In front of them, both of Emma’s parents were sporting cuts and bruises of their own, both standing stiff-backed and as close together as their captors would allow. Killian tried not to think about why only two guards had been sent after Emma and himself when there had been four here just to handle her parents, about how they predicted that he’d be so consumed by her that they knew it would be enough. A familiar blinding rage welled up within him. He had failed her immensely.

Venom dripped from Snow’s voice as she spat, “Tell us what you want and leave.”

The king’s eyes fell upon her with distaste. “It’s a shame that you fell in with him,” he said, his chin jutting toward David. “I always had a feeling that you and I could have made great allies.”

Snow was unblinking as she stared the man down, looking down her nose at him though he stood a head taller. “Do I need to repeat myself, or are you capable of answering a simple question?”

“I want exactly what I’ve had these past months,” he replied with a shrug. “I want my throne left alone and the lot of you out of my kingdom.”

“

Your

kingdom?” David laughed darkly. “The only thing in this land that’s rightfully yours is the pain I will -”

As quick as an asp, one of the guards struck Emma’s father from behind and he fell to his knees, dazed.

Ever the queen, Snow White didn’t so much as flinch as her eyes remained trained on George, a hunter marking her prey for the kill. “I’m afraid that’s out of the question.”

“It was easy enough to get rid of you three to begin with. What makes you think I can’t do it again?”

“Because,” Emma said darkly, glaring daggers at the side of George’s face, “we have each other now. You took us by surprise before, but you’ve shown us your hand.”

George slowly turned on her, a smile that held no warmth tugging on the corners of his thin mouth. “So the princess does speak.”

Emma raised her chin, and pride swelled in Killian’s chest at the gesture. “If you tell your men to let go of me, I’ll show you what else I can do.”

A laugh that could only be described as cold and cruel cut through the room. “I see why you couldn’t give her up, pirate.” Emma bared her teeth, but George continued. “All this fury was just too tempting for you, wasn’t it? I wonder if that fire will still burn when I’m done with you.”

“What’s your deal?” she demanded. “Why go through all this trouble for me?”

“Because the easiest way to destroy a parent is to kill their child.”

A beat of silence pulsed through the room. Disgust like Killian had never felt roiled in his veins.

“You never hired me to kill her, mate,” Killian remarked.

“You never bothered to ask what I’d do with her once you fulfilled your obligation,” George retorted.

No, he hadn’t. Shame washed over him. All he’d cared about was what he’d get out of it, not what the fate of an innocent person would be because of his carelessness.

He cut a glance at the Dark One. “And what of you, Crocodile? What’s your place in all of this?”

“A common enemy,” Rumplestiltskin purred, his yellowed eyes trained with predatory intensity on Killian. “And an opportunity for revenge that I simply couldn’t pass up.”

“You took your revenge when you killed Milah.”

“Yes, but clearly it wasn’t enough.”

He nearly choked at the words, at the idea that his decades of suffering hadn’t been enough. He had destroyed himself and those around him relentlessly because of the Crocodile’s actions. The day he’d walked away from Milah’s corpse on the deck of his ship he’d declared that their feud was over - so why was he really here?

“What deal did he make with you?” Killian asked, voice low.

George held out a hand. “That’s enough.”

To his surprise, Rumplestiltskin remained quiet.

Something was very, horribly wrong here. And he didn’t think they’d be able to escape it this time.

Softly, David shook his head at the king and said, “So this is all about James.”

Pieces of knowledge clicked into place. Killian should have realized it earlier - the story of David and his twin brother James was public enough. Separated from each other soon after birth, David had remained with his parents and was raised as a shepherd. James, however, was taken to King George and raised as his own until his untimely death. The details on how David ended up forced to take on his brother’s name were still unclear, but it was common knowledge that he’d forsaken whatever agreement he’d held with the king upon meeting Snow White.

“

Of course this is about James!”

the king snapped, whatever control he’d had on his anger finally shattering. “You took my son from me! It’s about time I returned the favor.”

“My brother’s own mistakes caught up with him! That had nothing to do with me, and it certainly has nothing to do with my family.”

“It does now.”

George held out his hand to Rumplestiltskin, who reached into his coat and removed a glass vial. He spun the clear contents once, twice before placing it into the king’s palm.

“George,” Snow warned. “Think about what you’re doing.”

Killian’s mind raced, trying to think through every poison he’d heard of, but couldn’t recall any that were clear. Was this some sort of magic he had never seen? If he moved quickly enough, he could potentially break away from the guard and make it to Emma before he could force her to take it, and if they were lucky they could make a run for the door -

“I have thought about it. Every moment, day and night I have thought and planned for this.” The king’s voice was shaky, each word tinged with madness as he focused on David. “We could have had the world if you had just kept your mouth shut and followed the plan. You didn’t only ruined an alliance with King Midas - you ruined any chance we had at being a family.”

The words tugged at Killian’s heart - what delusion had brought on this perverted definition of family? It wasn’t unlike his own father. Perhaps he and David understood each other more than they thought.

“We never had a chance at being a family,” David hissed. “I would never have been good enough for you, even if I had followed your orders. And if you ever truly believed we could have been family, then we certainly wouldn’t be here. What explanation can you give for involving the entire kingdom -

our people

- in this petty squabble?”

George shrugged, turning the vial over in his palm. “Retribution.”

“And what’s your plan here? Kill us all in cold blood and walk away as if nothing happened?” Each word that left Killian’s mouth was louder than the last, unable to control himself. “Others know they’re alive, mate. They’ll come looking, and they’ll know who’s responsible.”

“You’re right,” George admitted, nodding slowly. “Which is why I need a bit of a do-over.”

“What are you talking about?” Emma barked.

“You’re right,” George repeated. “I’ll be easily suspected now that others know you’re alive. There are murmurs throughout the kingdom. Hope is a perilously infectious disease. No one batted an eye in my direction when people believed that a bunch of thugs and rebels murdered the lot of you at the ball. It was actually too easy to walk in and convince the court that I could restore order and rule the kingdom for myself with you all out of the way. But the moment your little fish friend alerted your allies that you were all alive and coming back, things started to fall apart. Those damned dwarves led an uprising that drove us from the castle overnight. But this time, we’ll make sure that can’t happen. This time I’ll make sure you’re all dead myself.”

Snow blanched, her mouth agape as she watched. “You bastard.”

“Do me the honors, imp.”

With a flourish of his scaly fingers, Rumplestiltskin offered an empty hand to the king. Killian’s brows furrowed. What kind of game…

No

.

Silence, violent and unending, filled his head. No, the Crocodile’s hand wasn’t empty at all. In fact, it held something so precious, so powerful that Killian nearly fell to his knees.

Even Emma’s beautiful face blanched. “What is that?”

Horror flooded Killian, his bowels turning watery as he thrashed against the guard and roared, “NO!”

“Yes,” George spat in his direction before turning his sneer onto Emma and holding up a single strand of golden hair in the firelight. “A girl of your powers? All it’ll take is a single hair to finish this curse. Too bad we didn’t get one from you, pirate. But I suppose it’ll be better this way.” He uncorked the vial with little ceremony, and as Snow loosed a frightened sob, he lowered the hair into the clear liquid. As if time itself slowed, they all watched in agony, each thrashing against the men who held them, as the contents of the vial turned purple. “Enjoy your memories, Hook. They’re all you’ll have left of her.”

Killian felt each of his heartbeats as King George tipped his hand, the triumphant grin on his face utterly sickening. It was hard to tell who was screaming loudest as the vial hit the ground and shattered.

Too late. It was too late - to escape, to save Emma, to stop any of this.

Time stretched, and for a long moment nothing happened. Each of them exchanged looks, wide-eyed and panicked. Then the tang of magic filled the air as green-tinged lightning struck around them, and the room exploded into chaos.

Rearing back forcefully, Killian knocked the guard holding him hard enough in the jaw that he let go, swiping hard across his face with the back of his hook. He crumpled, and Killian lurched toward Emma.

Violet smoke encompassed the space, billowing and thickening as it expanded. He could hardly see Snow and David’s outlines as they fought the men beside them as well. Not fighting to escape, he realized, but because it was all they had left to do. Fighting for the people they loved because nothing else would ever work. His eyes burned, smoke pushing up his nose and down his throat.

He didn’t know when Emma had freed herself, but with a desperate cry she raised them before her. Her magic flared…and evaporated as though the smoke had nullified it.

“I can’t stop it,” she wept, and Killian’s heart broke.

This was truly the end.

He had failed her.

A thick purple cloud engulfed her, and she coughed. His own lungs were on fire, skin pricking as the magic took hold of them.

“I will find you,” he vowed, grabbing for her hand somewhere in the violet abyss. “No matter where we go, I will find you.”

A sputtering gasp told him she could no longer speak, but tears flowed freely down her face. He could see the words she so desperately wanted to say. He felt them in his heart. Unable to remain upright, she collapsed to her knees, almost completely disappearing within the smoke.

She had wanted him to stay. She had wanted a future.

And now they never would.

The magic tugged, and Killian sank to the ground beside her. He watched as the sky outside of the windows turned dark, the smoke now cresting over the windowsills and spilling into the world beyond. Fear gripped him so hard he couldn’t move - or was it the magic? - and he looked back at her one last time.

“I love you, Emma.”

Darkness enveloped him.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Emma woke with a start, eyes darting around the room. It was just before dawn, and the embers from her fireplace cast a faint, warm glow around her chambers.

Today was her birthday. Her new blue silk dress hung on the door of the armoire against the wall, matching jewels and beautiful silk slippers dyed to match the gown perfectly laid out on the tufted stool before her vanity table. Tonight, she would have to trade in her usual dark blue breeches, comfortable white shirt, and worn boots for this extravagant ensemble. She hoped that she could pull it off, to at least appear to be the princess everyone expected, even if she didn’t feel like she was.

Her dreams had been stranger than normal. Every night for nearly a year she’d relived her days as Captain Hook’s captive, but her dreams last night…they’d been of the same person, but an entirely different man. He’d been man of honor, who was gentle and kind, who saved and protected her. She couldn’t remember what he called himself, but she had been on that ship, surrounded by that familiar crew. Where before there had been anger and fear, in her dream there had been laughter and light, friendship and love. But then there had been a strange magical smoke, a sense of terror, of loss, and she had awoken. She shook her head against the soft pillows, trying to dispel her confusion.

It seemed her nerves were trying to get the best of her, even in sleep.

She shook off her thoughts, taking in the calmness of the morning. It took a long while for her to realize that she was completely alone, not even the usual guard posted in her sitting room. Perhaps that was a birthday present from her parents. She had complained for a while about never having a morning to herself, so this was a welcome surprise.

Maybe this won’t be such a bad day after all

, she thought to herself as she rolled over, feeling excited in spite of herself.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The Jolly Roger swayed around Killian as he stuffed his feet into his boots.Light was just breaking over the horizon beyond the salty window of his cabin, a depthless dark sea churning below.
Where am I? Where am I? Where am I?
His heart thundered to the words as he flung open the door to his cabin, nearly sprinting down the hallway to the ladder. Pots clattered below - Mrs. Cooke preparing breakfast for the still-sleeping crew. When was he? Hadn’t it been late afternoon when the curse had taken them only moments ago?Sweat coated his hands as he made the shaky climb to the deck despite the chill, and he nearly fell back down the hatch as he took in the city beyond. Awash in morning light, he examined the spires, the castle, the colorful village along the jetty. His stomach turned over.His ship was approaching the capital.The few men on watch nodded at him and he tried to steady his breathing, taking in each man as he slowly studied the deck. No sign of the new wood from the repairs after Emma’s outburst months ago. The old sails were flying proudly, fully intact. The men themselves carried on with their chores as if…As if nothing had happened.Oh gods.Killian faced the looming city once more. There were countless ships in the harbor - many ships flying crests from kingdoms and continents near and far. The nicest ships in their respective fleets from what he had seen over the years. He unfolded the spyglass from his pocket, examining the berth more closely. Even at this early hour, the docks were abuzz with sailors and merchants.His breathing came hard and fast as panic rose.
Oh gods. Oh gods, no -
“Morning, Captain!”He jumped, whirling with his hand on his sword. Smee stammered back, wide-eyed, and raised his puffy hands.“Sorry, sir. Didn’t mean to frighten you. Is everything in order for today?”The words tickled his memory. He hoped to any deity who had ever been worshiped in this land or any other that he was wrong.Fighting to keep his voice neutral, he narrowed his eyes, a captain merely testing his first mate as he asked, “What needs resupplying today?”Smee rattled off the list, stammering under Killian’s scrutiny. With each item, his heart squeezed tighter, as if a massive fist clenched around it ready to choke the life from him at any moment...He knew exactly what day it was. I need a bit of a do-over, George had said.Killian raked his hand through his hair nervously, loosing a shaky breath.“It’s her birthday,” Killian whispered, his eyes wandering back to the castle, to the princess who was no doubt still asleep inside of it. His princess.Not anymore.Or not yet.Oh gods, he was royally fucked. His ears buzzed - from the remnants of the magic that had transported him here or the nerves filling his every pore, he didn’t know.“Are you feeling well, Captain? You look a bit peaky to me, and -”Realization dawned on him. If today was Emma’s birthday, then George’s hoard of brutes could already be in the city. She and her parents were in danger, and they had no idea. He suspected that no one had any idea besides himself and the cursed king.He snapped.“If I wanted your opinion, Mr. Smee,” Killian hissed, “then I’d bloody ask for it.”Smee blinked, bowing his head. “Yes, sir. S-sorry sir, I -”“ Silence.” Killian took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. “Wake Lansing and Johnny. Send them to my quarters immediately. And Mrs. Cooke. You’ll await orders up here or I’ll toss you over and have done with you. Understood?”“Y-yes, Captain!”Killian watched as Smee scurried off and took one last look at the castle before he descended to his cabin and made a plan. *** Thunderclouds threatened the crisp autumn afternoon as Killian stalked down the dock. Everything had been how it was over a year ago - every detail from Lansing paying off the harbormaster to Smee blubbering about the crew’s leisure time had been replayed with perfect accuracy. It was unnerving how similar it had been, yet just how different.It had taken longer than he would have liked to fill in Lansing, Johnny, and Mrs. Cooke on the events of the last year. All were quiet when he’d finished, and doubt had lined the men’s faces before Mrs. Cooke nodded, her keen eyes surveying Killian’s every breath, and asked what they needed to do. Every minute from there had revolved around one thought: keeping Emma safe.Crowds bustled around him, and he kept his head low, his usual leather duster and sword traded for a plain black shirt and jacket with a more subtle dagger. He didn’t blend in easily, but it was better than nothing. Besides, he wasn’t going far. At the end of the alley, he spotted a dingy tavern with a worn sign swinging in the breeze above it: The Black Barnacle. He tried to control the shaking in his fingers as he opened the door and stepped inside.It was dim as always, but the room was abuzz with activity. The shaded corners were as suspicious as he recalled, but many patrons were merely having ale and conversation. How could these people not know that the past year of their lives had just been erased? How many of these people had accomplished so much or experienced something wonderful only to be swept away by a cowardly king? His head spun - he couldn’t be the only one to know that the world was fundamentally different. But as his eyes adjusted and he scanned the room, it looked just as it had when he’d arrived a year ago. A little busier at this time of day than his usual hour, but it was alarmingly untouched.“Ah!” A feminine voice floated across the room. Adorned in her usual low-cut bodice, Maria swished around the bar and waved her hand at a table. “I reckoned I hadn’t seen the last of you, Captain!”Killian approached, studying the occupied tables and alcoves warily, but didn’t take her proffered seat.“Especially after I heard that princess of ours escaped your care last year,” she finished with a conspiratorial whisper once he was close enough to hear over the din of the tavern.“Lovely to see you again, Maria,” he answered with forced lightness, though even he could tell that his smile didn’t meet his eyes.She raised a suspicious brow. “The usual, I take it?”“I’m afraid not,” he said with a shake of his head. “I’m here on business.”Her chuckle was light and she leaned against the table with a hip. “Restocking, I take it? My eyes tell me you haven’t made port in quite some time. You picked one hell of a day to stop in this city, Captain.”Even he heard the flatness in his tone as he said, “Your eyes are perceptive as always, love. Circumstances aren’t ideal.”“Are you sure you’re feeling well?” she asked, cocking her head to the side. Her sharp eyes assessed him from head to toe. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you finally met a woman to take some of that swagger out of you.”His heart tugged painfully. “Something like that.”“Well then congratulations are in order, are they not? Come, have a drink!” She waved him to follow her to the back of the room, but he stopped her with a hand on her elbow. Her eyes promised death as she whirled at the contact.What could he say? In a room full of people, how could he explain what was happening? That her life too had been wiped away like dust from a table?Killian swallowed, nausea overcoming him. He’d known Maria for many years, had come to this very tavern since she had served her first drink, yet trusting her with this… It’s the only way , he reminded himself.Taking a deep breath, he let her go and said, “I need your help.”Maria straightened imperceptibly and walked to the bar. He followed, waiting as she picked up a rag and began polishing glasses. She made idle chatter with the patrons at the bar for several excruciatingly long minutes before she convinced them to take up their revelry at a table that had conveniently opened up. Once they were gone, her mouth barely moved as she whispered, “You’re back for her, aren’t you?”He nodded once, aware of every eye and ear in the room. “Aye.”“You’re mad,” she breathed, setting aside one glass and picking up another. Her watchful gaze flickered to the crowd then returned to his face. “The ball is tonight and there will be a hundred guards stationed at the gates. Even if you could get in, there’s no way you could leave with her. And I hear she’s not exactly the type who’d go willingly.”“I know.” He leaned onto the bar, ready to beg if it came to it. Maria wasn’t a cruel woman, but she was smart. Like any smart woman would do, she’d likely deem this favor too risky. “But I have to try.”Her face softened at whatever was in his expression. “It seems there’s more to this story than meets the eye.” Chairs scraped against the worn wooden floor, and Killian lowered his head as two men walked up to settle their bill. Maria bid them farewell, then turned her attention back to him. “Take a walk and meet me at the back door in twenty minutes. I’ll see what I can do.” *** Killian’s walk had done next to nothing for his nerves. Seeing the chaos and bustle of the city had only reminded him of the stakes, and he didn't need anyone else to tell him that he was way in over his head. For the first time in centuries, he felt like he was drowning. Only his long-standing trust in Maria had kept him from questioning her intentions when she’d reappeared at the back door, informing him she had properly prepared. What preparation she needed, she hadn’t specified. But he had found over the years that Maria owed no answers and suffered no fools, and it was best to keep to the system. She guided him through the door and waved a hand down a cramped stairway, and he descended without hesitation. After all, she had never betrayed him before, and loyalty was -Killian stopped so fast Maria bumped into him.“ You.” Rumplestiltskin didn’t so much as blink as Killian drew his dagger, pressing the blade so hard into the imp’s throat that it drew a dark bead of blood.“Hello, dearie. Long time, no see.” “Stop this,” Maria hissed, putting a hand on Killian’s arm. “You need him.”“She’s right,” Rumple sang, perfectly punctuating the ‘t’ in a way that made Killian see red.Killian all but growled his response, refusing to take his eyes off of Rumple. “He’s the reason I’m in this mess in the first place. Why did you bring him here?”Maria lowered her brows. “What are you talking about?”“Once again, Captain, you’re placing blame on the wrong person.”“You killed Milah, not me. And I certainly didn’t set off this bloody curse, now did I?”Maria’s hand dropped. “What curse?”Ignoring her inquiry entirely, the Crocodile’s beady eyes bored into Killian’s with quiet menace. “I had as much choice in that curse as you did. I came here because you and I have a common enemy, and you have an opportunity to put this whole thing right for all of us.”Killian’s grip on the dagger faltered. “Explain yourself.”Rumple’s eyes dropped to the blade at his throat. “It’s easier to talk when I have more space.”With a warning look, Killian released the dagger and backed away a step, standing shoulder to shoulder with Maria.“Good dog,” Rumple crooned, straightening up the lapels of his scaled jacket. “You and I are after the same thing, Captain.”“I doubt that.”The imp’s face wrinkled in disgust. “No, not the girl,” he sneered. “George.”Maria’s brow crinkled. “George? As in…”“Yes,” Killian seethed. “ King George.”“I don’t understand,” she said. “Who is he to the both of you?”“Nothing to me yet,” Rumple replied, his face grim. “But in a few weeks time he’ll be my master.”Killian’s eyes widened, mind reeling as he thought back to the last few hours - or was it a year from now? He ignored that rabbit hole, trying to keep his mind clear. When they were standing in the dwarves’ cabin, Rumple had been…quiet. Submissive. He’d stood in the corner watching the king take his revenge on someone he himself had tried to kill on numerous occasions. A sick wave of realization washed over Killian, the tide threatening to pull him under entirely.“George found the dagger, didn’t he?”Rumple nodded slowly. “Glad you’ve finally caught up, dearie.”“How?” Killian himself had searched for that dagger for years after learning the power it held over the Dark One. He’d nearly driven himself mad chasing rumors and smoke.“A combination of torture, magic, and bribery, I’m sure.” Rumple moved to the back of the cluttered room, rifling through the vials of Maria’s potion materials with maddening audacity. “I can feel when people are searching for it, you know,” he said, tossing a knowing look at Killian over his shoulder. “It’s a part of me, just as I am of it. I felt someone looking, someone getting too close, and when you had your little shipwreck, I thought you’d finally found it.”Killian’s brows lifted, unable to conceal his surprise. “Your dagger was on that island all along. That’s why you turned up there.”“Of course. I knew you were keen on taking it for yourself, and I had to check. But instead of you stealing it, I found you frolicking with your princess. To my surprise, you left, and it was clear you had no idea what was hidden just beyond the waterfall so I chalked it up to coincidence. I mistakenly assumed the nudge I felt was because you’d wandered too close.”“We never saw George or any of his men on that island. As far as I could tell, no living soul had set foot there in years.”“Keep up, dearie!” Rumple snapped. “No one was ever there, but while you were busy making doe-eyes at Emma Swan, you failed to notice that you were being watched.”Killian froze. Blackbeard. He had known about his relationship with Emma, had commented that they’d been seen, but he’d been in such a rage during the encounter that he hadn’t thought too hard about where or when. They hadn’t run into trouble on that island, but trouble had certainly found them. “We had no idea the dagger was there, and we only wound up there by accident. How could anyone have possibly known to follow us?”“Fate is a funny thing. It’s true - you were never meant to be there. But Blackbeard already knew where the dagger was thanks to the king, and your presence was a convenient opportunity and distraction. Once you left and he was free to take the blade, he followed you and exacted whatever revenge he felt was owed.”It was too much - everything was happening too quickly to process. He was merely a marionette, his strings controlled by the whims of fate or whatever fickle gods loved such events. “My father was on that ship.”A dark smile spread on Rumple’s face. “I heard. What a pity - my condolences on his death, of course.”“He’s out there again, isn’t he? With this curse -”Rumple raised a hand to interrupt him. “Death is permanent. What you did to your father cannot be undone by any curse. Magic can do many things, but it can't raise the dead.”Sick relief spread through him.“But once you did kill him and Blackbeard ran back to the king, he handed over the dagger for a sizable sum and you know how that story ends.” Yes , he thought bitterly. It apparently ended here, in this room with this conversation. His heart ached, his chest tight with nerves and sorrow and anger and so many other emotions that he was surprised he hadn’t dropped to the floor.“How do we stop it?”“What?” The imp bared his teeth in what could barely be considered a smile.Killian ground his teeth. “How do we stop the curse?”“We make a deal.”He nearly snarled at the idea. “I’ll not be making any bargains with you, Crocodile. I know how that story ends too.”“The way I see it, Captain , I can get you what you want and you can get me what I want. In the end, things go back to normal and we never have to cross paths again.”The last idea sounded intriguing.“What did you have in mind?”“I can get you into the castle tonight. As… skilled as she is,” he wrinkled his nose at her in distaste, “nothing Maria can do will be able to disguise you enough to get through those gates. You need magic. I get you into the party to rescue your precious Emma, and once you’re back on your ship, you sail straight for the dagger.”“You want me to beat Blackbeard to it?”Rumple’s eyes turned distant. “He’s already been told where to find it, I can feel it. George hasn’t wasted a moment this time, and neither can we.”“What makes you think I can’t get into the castle on my own? Why do you think, after all we’ve been through, that I would ever accept your bargain?”“Because true love is a powerful motivator.”For the first time since he’d awoken, the world stopped spinning. No, it had stopped entirely.
True love.
The imp had to be lying. This had to be some grand manipulation to get him to agree so he could have his way.Maria laughed, her voice grating. “A pirate and the Princess of Misthaven are true love?”“Fate is a funny thing,” Rumple repeated. “And stranger things have happened, have they not?”Maria didn’t speak again, shifting uncomfortably on her feet.It wasn’t possible. Despite his many years of existence, very few rules had been so concrete in his life as the universal law that villains do not have happy endings, and the most precious part of a hero’s happy ending was finding their true love. For all his efforts as of late, Killian had thoroughly sullied his soul for decades.“That’s not possible,” he whispered. “I’m not - that can’t happen for me.”Rumplestiltskin quirked a thin brow, his mouth set in such a frown that Killian could tell whatever he was about to say utterly repulsed him. “The hardest thing a person can do is change, dearie. You should be proud of that.” “Villains are only that because of the choices they make,” Emma’s words echoed in his head. How long ago had she spoken them? “They can always change. Which means maybe they can have true love, too.” He assumed she only believed in him because she liked him, but…had she suspected? Is that what had made her so confident? And if she knew…“That’s why you wanted a hair from each of us on the island. You wanted the magic.”Rumple nodded. “The princess was smart to say no, despite the fact that she didn’t know why. There is no more powerful magic in this realm than true love. And because this curse is bound to your beloved’s powers, you are able to break this curse and set us all free.”“I have no magic, and if you hadn’t noticed, she bloody hates me again so I doubt Emma could fix this either.”Rumple’s smile turned serpentine. “You made her like you before; you’ll just need to be quicker this time. True love’s kiss is the only remedy to restore everyone’s memories, I’m afraid. As I recall, you have a way even with women who aren’t available. I’m sure you can figure it out.”Killian brushed off the sting of the words, the memory of Milah that now felt so dull against what he had with Emma.True love.“She’s a hard one to convince of anything they say,” Maria said cautiously.“Aye, I’ll have to play it right,” he replied, deep in thought. “The ball tonight - she told me before that it was basically to find her a husband. Every man of eligible age in attendance tonight will be a suitor.”“Then a suitor you’ll be,” Maria finished, pointing at him with a finger. “I have just the right clothes.”She rushed out of the room without another word and Killian faced Rumple once more. “What about the king? We can’t leave that thread loose again.”Rumple’s face darkened, and not even Killian could keep the fear that expression inspired from settling into his heart. “You keep that dagger safe, and you can leave the king to me.”For years, he’d remembered the imp’s bloodlust in revenge. It wasn’t hard to trust his words on that. He extended his hand, steeling his nerves. “You have yourself a bargain.”Rumple clasped his hand in his own scaly fingers, and the metallic tang of magic sparked through Killian at the contact. They both snatched their hands away as quickly as they could, and Rumple nodded.“Then let’s get to work.” *** Killian pulled at his collar, huffing in discomfort. How anyone could wear clothing like this day in and day out, he couldn’t fathom. As she always did, Maria had employed her reliable connections to not only find Killian a suitable disguise but one that rivaled the quality of the princes and noblemen that surrounded him at the castle gates. He was impressed - the crisp white shirt and navy jacket had certainly cut a handsome figure when he’d seen his reflection, the matching pants somehow hemmed with unnerving precision. Even his shoes had been polished to a mirrored shine, despite them being a hair too large. It wasn’t lost on him that he was dressed to complement the gown he knew Emma would be wearing tonight, the gown that would be soaked and tattered as she ran for her life if he couldn’t figure out what his plan would be.He pushed the thought from his mind, taking a deep breath. Working up his nerves again would do him no good. The clock in the highest castle tower didn’t even read eight o’clock yet, and he would have until midnight to do what he needed to do. Rumplestiltskin had instructed him that at the last chime at the stroke of midnight, his magical disguise would fade and he would look like Killian Jones once more. He didn’t know who he looked like - his reflection earlier had remained unchanged to his eyes - but even Maria had agreed that the facade the Crocodile had placed on him was convincing. Even still, it was hard to control his quickened pulse as the guards waved him through the gates, taking his forged invitation as the duke of some county that didn’t exist without a second thought.The courtyard beyond the wall was abuzz with carriages and noblemen, their attendants rushing about to help their employers make their perfect entrances. Killian’s eyes scanned the crowd, and settled on a glint of red hair in the far corner by a servant’s entrance. He kept his steps smooth but quick, nodding at other men in greeting as they passed him. The red-headed man’s gaze swept over Killian, but quickly resumed searching near the gate. Perhaps his disguise was incredibly convincing. He sidled up next to the man, straightening his jacket as though he were little more than a nervous gentleman asking for assistance from a servant.“Help me, will you, Johnny?”Johnny’s blue eyes snapped to Killian’s face. “Captain?”“Aye.” He kept his voice low. “Has anyone seen you?”He shook his head, his hair brushing over forehead. “No. Holy gods, Jones, I can’t even recognize you. Well, except for your voice. There’s a bit of you still in there, I reckon, but -” Panic crossed Johnny’s features as a group passed them, and he stopped talking, producing a brush from his jacket and raking it over the back of Killian’s coat for lint. It wasn’t until the other men were well out of earshot before he spoke again. “This is the most elaborate ruse I’ve ever seen. Did he do this?”Killian ground his teeth. He’d sent word back to the Jolly using one of Maria’s messengers to Lansing, Johnny, and Mrs. Cooke earlier in the afternoon, relaying the plan. The boy hadn’t returned with a reply, but the fact that Johnny was here exactly as planned meant they’d understood, but he had to be sure.Turning, Killian tugged at his collar one more time before fixing Johnny with a hard stare. “Can I trust you to get the both of us out?”Johnny’s brows pinched, as if hurt by the question. Killian knew that he would do anything for Emma - he had already done so much for her. But he nodded all the same. “Yes, Captain.”“Then you know what to do. You know what’s at stake.”“Aye.”Killian examined him, studying the set of his shoulders. “Good. Then I’ll see you at midnight.”Without another word, Johnny disappeared into the castle, leaving the pirate alone in a sea of princes. *** Snaking through the gilded crowd, Killian stifled a yawn as he glanced at the clock. He’d been watching as the clock had ticked on, now striking a quarter past eleven bells. It was hard to control the rising panic in his chest as his time ran out. He hadn’t caught a glimpse of Emma since her parents had honored her with a toast. When he’d seen her, his heart had nearly sundered anew. She looked so royal -  the shade she’d complained about picking for the gown was striking against her unmarred skin, vastly different than how he remembered seeing her this very fateful night. Her hair was swept up, several pieces curled at the front to frame her face. She was absolutely breathtaking - but he could see the misery in her eyes from across the room, and it physically pained him. Every glimpse he caught told him the truth of who she was in this castle. Her shoulders were curled in, her eyes averted, her head hung as if trying to hide. There was none of the confident, stubborn woman he’d come to love in this princess before him, and it hurt him deeper than he expected. He was so distracted thinking about it that he hadn’t heard the sweep of that royal blue gown on the marble floor next to him as she sidled up to his side, a soft smile on her carefully painted lips.“You know, if I wanted to find someone else who seemed to be enjoying this evening less than you, I’d probably have to look in a mirror.”Her eyes twinkled with amusement, the same look she wore when she’d tease him in front of his entire crew aboard the Jolly in the weeks when she’d finally felt at home. He longed for that ease, the certainty and comfort her presence had brought. Now it felt so empty - he loved her more than anything, and here she was, raising a brow at him expectantly as if they hadn’t fought and toiled and dragged themselves kicking and screaming to the place they’d been in only hours ago: true love.Killian bowed his head. “Your Highness,” he greeted, clearing his throat. “My apologies - I’ll admit this sort of scene has never been where I’m at my best.”“Oh?” Emma asked, the corner of her mouth lifting. “Then in what sort of scene are you at your best?”Shit. Most of the day had been dedicated to getting him into the castle unnoticed with an identity no one would second guess, but he hadn’t realized he’d need more than just a name. He needed a story too.“My ship,” he answered, settling for a partial truth. “I must admit I’m at my best when I’m on the open seas.”“I see,” Emma drawled, nodding slowly. She looked around the room, then back at him. “A ballroom is too small for a man accustomed to such a large world.”Killian scratched behind his ear. “Perhaps. But I’m willing to give it a chance.”Relief skittered along his bones as Emma laughed and waved a hand at him. “Don’t worry about that, I don’t enjoy this kind of thing either. I’m happy to have found someone to share the annoyance with actually.”“It’s my honor,” he said, trying to control his racing heart. Pull yourself together, lad , he chastised himself. He’d have to do better than this if he had any chance of getting her out of here within the next half hour.“The honor is all mine, Prince…”“Charles,” he said quickly. “Just Charles.”Her brows furrowed, as if trying to remember who he was, but she offered a bland smile. “Charles. It’s very nice to meet you.”The unease between them was insufferable. Such formal words from the woman who had verbally lashed him as if it was her sacred duty every day for the past year. It was off-putting how different she was within the confines of this life, how much she pretended to be what she knew these people expected. His stomach turned - he was surrounded by the very people that had tried for so long to force her into becoming a shell of who she really was to be more palatable, more passive, more safe , when her real beauty and power laid in her wildness, in her stubborn will and her unshakable strength. She would be a better ruler for it, and she had proved that. But this woman…she had lost all of that time, that growth, and Killian would die to get that back.“The pleasure is mine entirely.” He dipped his head, grinning at her. “Happy birthday, Your Highness.”Emma smiled in return, taken aback. “Thank you very much,” she said. “I think you’re the first person to actually tell me that. Well, aside from the toast earlier, but…that doesn’t really count, does it?”“Indeed it does not,” Killian replied. No, when her parents had called for the toast, she’d looked wildly uncomfortable in the center of the crowd as her mother had bid her to make a birthday wish. He leaned in and lowered his voice conspiratorially. “May I ask you a personal question?”“You can ask,” she hesitated, “but I certainly may not choose to answer.” There she is , Killian thought. He looked over his shoulder dramatically, and he could feel her interest piquing. Her attention was wholly upon him as he looked back at her. “What did you wish for?”Surprise flashed across her features, her mouth parting. Emma narrowed her eyes at him, but he didn’t concede an inch. Tilting her head, she watched him for a long moment. He knew what she was doing - what she was deciding.“I can’t tell you that,” she argued. “It won’t come true if I do, everyone knows that.”Killian winked, and he nearly sighed with relief as she blushed. “Humor me, Princess. What could a beautiful woman who has everything possibly wish for?”Her face softened for a moment, and Killian nearly panicked before he saw it: the moment she decided to trust him. It was all he needed.“Come on,” he urged, daring a small step closer. “What have you got to lose?”With a deep breath through her nose, Emma cast a look at her parents, then at the crowd sprawled in the center of the room before them. “I wished…” She trailed off, shaking her head. Her mouth pulled down into a frown, but turned her eyes back to him slowly and tried again. “I wished to finally be understood.”As hard as he tried, Killian couldn’t help as his smile faded. That was all she’d ever wanted, wasn’t it? Emma caught his expression and he watched as her walls went up, hiding behind that mask of indifference he’d worked so hard to tear down.“ And ,” she added, forcing a smile, “I wished for people to stop staring at me and to leave me alone, which did end up happening. So I suppose I can settle for half.”“A woman like you shouldn’t have to settle.”The words shocked Killian as much as they did Emma. She surveyed him, no doubt using her superpower on him. He didn't mind - he wanted her to see the truth of his words. And she did.She smiled brightly. “Thank you. Can I ask you a question?”“Of course.”“Why did you come here tonight?”His heart stopped completely. “Excuse me?”“Everyone else has been doing the normal bowing and scraping thing people do every time my parents open the palace. But not you. You’re very different. So why are you here?”Killian blew out a relieved breath. “I suppose I’m here for you.”She barked a laugh. “They all are, aren’t they?”“No,” he answered plainly. She lifted her brows, but he shook his head. “They’re all here for something - influence or politics, advantageous marriage or trade agreements, maybe even wealth. But not a single other man in this room is here for you .”Emma's brow quirked, guarded amusement tugging at her full lips. "And you're different?""You just said I was," he offered. "I'd imagine that you're a better judge of character than I.""I commented on your behavior. Not your nature."Killian hummed, considering. "Then allow me to prove myself."She tilted her head, and relief flooded through him at her obvious curiosity. He thanked the gods that their connection hadn't been completely taken away. He didn't even know if such a thing was possible with true love, but he was happy that she was feeling at least enough to trust him in this moment. Or whoever she thought he was."How would you intend to do that?" she finally asked, waving off a footman as he offered her a glass. Killian tried to keep his face neutral as he too declined, remembering that Emma had been drugged by something when she'd arrived at his ship last time.He mustered his courage, offering what he hoped was a dashing smile on his unfamiliar face. "Would you indulge me in a walk?"Her eyes swept across the room, watching her parents for a beat. Once she was satisfied that they were thoroughly distracted, she smirked at him and jerked her head toward the exit. "I know just the place."Offering his arm, Killian tried to keep his breathing steady as she looped her hand through his elbow and walked in step with him toward the open double doors in the back of the room. They led to a courtyard that was full of people, and Emma stiffened next to him as she nodded at a group and pulled him subtly, beckoning him to pick up his pace. They walked in silence for long minutes, winding through hedges and manicured trees until they reached a tall, overgrown gate. She pulled out a key and quickly unlocked it, ducking through the overhanging ivy. As Killian followed, he released a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.This garden was entirely different from the one they'd just traversed. It was quieter, wilder, greener. As if things here were allowed to grow just as they were, and whoever maintained this space loved it that way. Sparse small benches and iron chairs were tucked beneath flowering trees, and a swing swayed in the breeze at the back of the garden, overlooking the sea beyond."This is my favorite spot in the whole palace," Emma said softly, her hands tucked behind her back."It's beautiful," he replied, unable to think of anything else to say. It was perfectly her. All of it, every messy tree and bush and flower, together created something so gloriously peaceful. It was real, just like her. "I can see why you love it so much."She looked up, smiling at the faint rustle of leaves above. "It's the only place I can ever be alone.""You like being alone?""No," she said quickly, then bit her lip. "Well...yes." Her fingers toyed with the fabric of her gown, and he put his own hands in his pockets to keep himself from reaching out to her. She sighed, then looked back at him. "Sometimes it just feels like I'm a fish in a glass bowl."Killian raised a brow, hoping she would continue, but a voice chirped in his mind. You're running out of time . He knew they were, but she so clearly needed someone to listen to her. She needed to feel heard."It's just that living here, being who I am...I'm surrounded by people who constantly press their noses against the glass watching my every move because I'm different.""They don't understand you," he said, nodding. "Which is why you made your wish."She offered him a sad, small smile. "Yes." She turned, stepping into the garden and slowly meandering along a path as Killian followed. "So while it may seem like I have everything, what can you truly have in this life when no one knows you in your heart?""That can't be easy for you," he said apologetically."There are so many expectations," she explained, frustration bleeding into her tone. "From the court, from my parents, and even from myself.""Surely your parents love you."She laughed harshly. "Of course they do. But my parents host these balls as if it's the perfect place to find true love because that's what they think will make me happy. Did you know they met each other when my mother was a bandit during the Evil Queen's reign?""I don't believe I've heard that part of the story, no," he lied."My father was on the way to his wedding to King Midas' daughter and my mother tried to rob their carriage. When he tried to pursue her, she hit him in the head with a rock. Knocked him out cold." She shook her head, then said bitterly, "They've been inseparable ever since."Emma stopped her pacing, inhaling sharply. The air was thick around them, the rain threatening to begin any moment.Carefully, Killian turned to face her, keeping his voice as neutral as he could as he spoke. "I believe that true love finds you in unexpected ways. Sometimes, I suppose, it hits you over the head with a rock, and sometimes..." he swallowed, then smiled faintly, “it shows up in the dead of night and changes your life forever."It had happened to them. But it could be kept from happening again if he didn't hurry this along."But how can you be sure it'll show up?" she asked, shaking her head. "When you're stuck behind gates and walls like I am...sometimes I wonder if it would be better to just get it over with, if only to keep the court appeased and to make my parents happy.""That wouldn't solve anything," he said sharply, and she raised her brows in surprise. "I meant what I said earlier - not a single man in that ballroom is worthy of you. You are brilliant and brave and kind and stunning in every manner. You deserve better than to settle. You will find what you're looking for. Marrying one of those ponces isn't the solution.""Oh?" She stepped closer, a playful, wicked gleam in her eye. Thunder rumbled distantly, but Killian's eyes remained fixed on her. "How are you so different?"Wind blustered through the garden, and Killian was unable to help himself as he tucked an errant curl behind her ear, letting his fingers graze her cheek as he whispered, "Because I see you."He could see the argument in her eyes - you don't know me. You're lying. You're ridiculous. But he held her stare, his hand settling on the side of her neck gently, thumb stroking along her jaw, and she didn't fight. Not as his gaze dropped to her mouth, not as he closed the distance between them, not even as he lowered his face to hers slowly, her breath hitching in anticipation. The corner of his mouth tugged up, and his eyes closed as -As thunder clapped again, and the rain poured from the heavens. Emma jumped, startled, and they both laughed as they hurried along the path, hustling until they reached a pergola at the back of the garden. The sweet smell of flowering vines was thick in his nose as he chased her. She slipped as her shoes slid across the wet stones of the path, and he caught her in his arms, spinning her to face him.He would remember that breathless smile on her face forever."Where were we?" he asked, voice low as he dipped his head back to hers.Emma breathed a laugh, placing her hands on his shoulders, just as a voice behind them sent chills down his spine. "How bold of you to take such liberties with a princess, especially behind the palace walls. What have you two been up to out here, all alone?"Killian whirled, pushing Emma behind him as he faced the man. His stomach dropped. He didn't know his name, but he recognized him from the cottage - he was one of the men who'd held Emma down as the curse had taken her from him."I could ask you the same thing," Killian challenged, eyes flickering around the garden. There was little he could use out here as a weapon, and he would certainly need one. The grunt's own blade whined as he drew it, slowly approaching them as another familiar man emerged from the shadows in the corner. How long had he been there?"What's going on?" Emma murmured, clutching the back of his shirt. A painful memory panged in the back of his mind at the touch, but he pushed it away. He would not be beaten this time. Their lives depended on it."Yes," the larger man drawled. "Why not tell the girl what's going on, pirate?""Pirate?" Emma dropped her hand, and he heard as she took a step away."Emma," he warned, but he didn't take his eyes off of their approaching enemies."So informal!" the man chuckled, lightning illuminating his harsh features. "Though we shouldn't be surprised. Pirates aren't taught royal protocol, not even the infamous Killian Jones.""You're mistaken," Emma said behind him. "I've met Killian Jones myself. This man is nothing like that wretch."His heart sunk at the words. "Emma..." he said again, but he had nothing to say, not as the clock struck midnight, bells pealing through the air around them."Right on schedule," the grunt said, nodding at his companion. "Don't feel bad, miss. I'm sure he had help finding a way to disguise himself so you wouldn't recognize him so it'd be easier to kidnap you again. Isn't that right, Captain?"Killian squared his shoulders. Three chimes, four - it would be seconds before he was revealed. "I think you should let the lady be and leave before you can't.""Or what?" he mocked, his yellowed teeth gleaming.Six, seven...Before he could second guess himself, he lunged and punched the man in the jaw, picking up his sword deftly before striking out at the other man, slashing across his chest with brutal efficiency. They both slumped to the ground, and shouts began to echo from the crowd inside. Emma's eyes darted between the sounds and Killian's face."An exit," Killian demanded, gripping the sword tightly.Emma looked to her left, toward a small gate hidden only feet from them that opened toward a rocky hill that led to the sea. Perfect.Nine, ten..."GO!" he shouted, and the order startled her enough that she jumped into action, sprinting for the gate as Killian saw two more men run into the garden. He followed close behind, heart racing in his throat."My parents!" Emma called, but Killian shook his head, following her through the gate and shutting it, blocking it as best he could with the grunt's cutlass."It's too late, love," he snapped. "They're here for you, not them. We have to move."Eleven…Emma stopped suddenly. "What did you just call me?"Twelve.Killian felt as his face stretched and settled, his features now certainly back to normal. Emma turned slowly, her eyes skipping from his stubbled face to his hands - one now replaced by his hook."Emma, I can explain," he tried, but she gritted her teeth, eyes wide as she stepped forward and shoved his chest hard enough that he stumbled, rocks skittering down the steep hill."I am not your love," she spat, and he swallowed suddenly at the sting in his chest. "Why are you here? Why are they here?"The gate shuddered behind them, and Killian flinched. "I'm here to save you from them.""Save me?" she scoffed. "I don't need saving, and certainly not by you."Her words were harsh, but it was impossible even in this torrential downpour to miss the utter betrayal in Emma's eyes."Please," he said, exposing his palm to her. "I-""Save your breath," she spat, advancing on him again. "I have no doubt, Captain , that you could conjure up some bullshit to try to explain this so let's cut straight to the point. Was this all just a game to you? Some sort of distraction so you could help whoever those men are to kill my parents? What is this? Some sort of revenge for escaping last year?""No! I would never-""And why should I believe you?! All you've ever done is lie to me!"
"Because I love you!"
Thunder boomed, and Emma's mouth snapped shut, rage melting to quiet shock as she took in his words. As she realized he wasn't lying. They stared at each other for a long moment, their breathing haggard as rain beat down on them. Grunts echoed down the rocks as the gate began to splinter above them - they were out of time."I know this doesn't make any sense," he tried, "but I will explain. I just need you to trust me enough to help you out of this, and right now we have to run."Emma shook her head and took a step back. "No."He looked around frantically - he could see the longboat just below. All he had to do was get her there, to let her see Johnny and she would trust him -"No," she said more firmly, and just as the gate above them shattered, she took another step back and stumbled. He reached out, trying to catch her, but she careened over, striking her head as she hit the ground, and began to roll down the rocky hill, taking him with her.He slid behind her, striking the ground so hard it knocked the breath from his lungs. Trying to use his feet to control his fall as he reached for her, he gritted his teeth, ignoring the sting of cuts and scrapes across his body as they finally stopped tumbling. Shouts sounded far above - at least this had bought them some distance. Indeed, he could see Johnny's red hair only a few feet away. He stood, hauling Emma into his arms, and sprinted for the boat."She's never been one to make things easy," Johnny said by way of greeting when Killian reached him, and he ignored the quip."Where are they?" he growled, hefting Emma into the boat. No matter what, Emma would never forgive him if he left her parents there, and so that had been Johnny's task tonight."Already aboard as promised," Johnny answered, oar in hand as Killian climbed in after she was settled.Killian nodded. "Then we leave as planned.""Aye, Captain," he answered, sparing a glance back at Emma as he pushed off from the shore and began rowing. He was silent for a beat. "You think she'll come around?"Killian studied her, trying to calm his nerves at the blood that stained the back of her hair. Just as she'd come aboard the Jolly the first time, except this time he could have stopped it. He'd allowed himself to be too distracted. Too hopeful. And it had all blown up in his face. "I think she's more likely to try to kill me.""Me too," Johnny replied, and the men didn't speak again on the long row back to the Jolly Roger .The rest of the night happened in a blur - Lansing stitching Emma as David tried to pummel Killian and Mary Margaret peppered him with questions. The crew quietly murmuring about what was going on, but blindly following orders nonetheless. Smee complaining about being removed from his cabin to accommodate their guests. Killian's rushed and fairly censored account of the last year, trying to explain everything he could to David and Mary Margaret without landing himself in more trouble. All day, it had been one thing after another, but as he took one last look at Emma before he bid her parents good night, all he could remember was that promise he'd made only hours ago: I will find you.He had kept that promise, but everything else had gone horribly wrong. He was a stranger to her - no, even worse, he was an enemy to her. And it had been a long, difficult road from there to where Killian still stood.By the time the rain stopped and they were sailing toward the island that had changed he and Emma's relationship irrevocably, Killian sank to his knees in the middle of his cabin and wept.