Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/927104.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage, Major_Character
      Death
  Category:
      F/M, F/F
  Fandom:
      Once_Upon_a_Time_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Evil_Queen_|_Regina_Mills/Emma_Swan, Prince_"Charming"_James_|_David
      Nolan/Snow_White_|_Mary_Margaret_Blanchard, Belle/Rumplestiltskin_|_Mr.
      Gold
  Character:
      Emma_Swan, Evil_Queen_|_Regina_Mills, Prince_"Charming"_James_|_David
      Nolan, Snow_White_|_Mary_Margaret_Blanchard, Red_Riding_Hood_|_Ruby,
      Henry_Mills_(Once_Upon_a_Time), Captain_Hook_|_Killian_Jones, Cinderella
      |_Ashley_Boyd, Grumpy_|_Leroy, Rumpelstiltskin_|_Mr._Gold, Belle_|_Lacey,
      OFC, OMC
  Additional Tags:
      Pirate_AU, Alternate_Universe, Alternate_Universe_-_Medieval
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-08-15 Completed: 2014-04-07 Chapters: 20/20 Words: 104555
****** With The Tide ******
by the_scabbard
Summary
     When pirate Captain Emma Swan is offered a hefty amount of gold as a
     reward to capture Princess Regina Mills, who escaped to sea a day
     before she was to marry a powerful man, it is an opportunity she
     cannot resist taking. Medieval Pirate Swan Queen.
Notes
     Warnings: (this chapter) – Violence. Also, there is a Captain Swan
     sex scene. This will be the only one, as Swan Queen is endgame.
     Authors Notes: I've been promising this fic for a little while on
     tumblr. I'm so freaking happy to be actually posting it! Many
     millions of thanks to my beta reader youngmachines and to
     athomewithlana for giving it a read over as well.
     Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time does not belong to me, nor their
     characters or plots. The plot of this fanfiction belongs to
     shikabane-mai, and the artwork she drew can be found: post/
     46770603575/captain-emma-swan-and-her-former- bounty-mark
See the end of the work for more notes
***** The King And His Men *****
 
The tide rises, the tide falls,
The twilight darkens, the curlew calls;
Along the sea-sands damp and brown
The traveler hastens toward the town,
And the tide rises, the tide falls.
Darkness settles on roofs and walls,
But the sea, the sea in darkness calls;
The little waves, with their soft, white hands
Efface the footprints in the sands,
And the tide rises, the tide falls.
The morning breaks; the steeds in their stalls
Stamp and neigh, as the hostler calls;
The day returns, but nevermore
Returns the traveler to the shore.
And the tide rises, the tide falls.
 
"Excellent," the domineering voice proclaimed from her vantage point. "With any
luck, we'll be docked in Tortuga by sundown tonight."
A great clamour of jubilation went up from the crew on deck. A particularly
drunken old seadog who went by the nickname 'Grumpy' staggered forward, doffing
his lopsided hat at her.
"Don't strain yourself Grumpy," the Captain ordered, hand clenched on the wheel
to maintain their course. "We wouldn't want to strain you before we reach the
Tortugan whores tonight, would we?"
Another swell of noise went up, this time consisting of laughs and jeers.
Grumpy, still trying to keep his balance, mockingly laughed along. He drew his
dagger, trying to look menacing, but the effect was ruined by his suddenly
plunging towards the ground face-first.
"Somebody lock him in the brig for a few hours until he sobers ups," the
Captain commanded, turning her back on the commotion on deck. Her navigator was
shimmying down the mast from the crow's nest where she'd been situated. The
Captain was looking for ships stupid enough to be lingering around these seas.
She was pretty sure that she would need one more haul of gold and jewels before
she had enough to pay for six month supply of food and other necessities.
"Captain Swan!" The navigator exclaimed, stumbling towards her on impact with
the swaying deck. "There's a ship approaching us from the north east. Looks
like a juicy merchant's plum. God only knows what an idiot the Captain has to
be to sail so close to Tortuga…"
"Either a trap or…" Emma let her voice trail off, a greedy glint in her eye.
"They're flying under the flag of the Summerlands, Captain. But it's a
Winterlands ship and crew – which means diplomatic immunity." the navigator
told her, trying and failing to withhold her smirk.
"Belle, forget the merchant's ship, you're the juicy plum. Now get back up to
the nest, but don't fly the flag just yet. Wait until that ship's in range."
"Yes, Captain." Belle saluted before scrambling back up to the nest.
"All hands on deck!" Emma called out, pitching her voice below a screech but
louder than a yell. "Quartermaster to me! Red, get ready to fire –
incapacitating, no destroying! Dwarves – ready to board target as soon as we're
level."
Below there was chaos as her crew scrambled to obey orders. A couple burst from
below deck, the woman racing towards Emma and the man drawing his sword,
looking vicious and ready to spill blood. Below, the Captain could hear Red,
her Master Gunner, calling out orders for her underlings. The Dwarves, seven
brothers (including Grumpy) who had joined the crew together and had been
subsequently given ridiculous nicknames, prepared ropes to board the merchant
ship.
The Captain felt the presence of her Quartermaster by her side as she swung her
ship around to a more direct confrontational course. She handed her the
telescope knotted to her belt. "Tell me what you see, Snow."
"Large merchant ship," the Quartermaster Snow replied, pressing the rim of the
telescope to her eye. "Under the flag of King Midas of the Summerlands, rich as
a skunk and just as smart. Likely well-armed, perhaps twice the men we have."
Snow pursed her lips, squinting through the glass. "Hang on, that's Captain
Warson of Whitewing."
"The biggest pussy on the high seas?" Emma replied incredulously. "Give me the
'scope. I want to see this for myself."
Snow dutifully handed it over and the Captain cracked it open for a first good
look at her target. It was just as Snow and Belle had described. A juicy
merchant ship – primed for the perfect loot, captained by a total idiot. "You
know," Emma commented as she slid the telescope back. "If this was Neverland,
I'd be positive it was some kind of magical trap. I haven't been this fortunate
on one day for about twenty years, when we found that ship King Midas
accidentally turned to gold, sunk off the west coast of the Summerlands. Do you
remember, step-mother?"
"Vividly, Emma. It was the day before my wedding to your father, and you almost
missed giving me away to dig up buried treasure." Snow replied with a laugh.
Then her eyes locked on Emma's belt. "Forgive me, Captain Swan, but won't you
be needing your sword at some point today?"
The Captain looked down at her belt and empty scabbard, swearing colourfully.
She took off down the steps at a rate of knots, plunging into the fray of
pirates preparing and clearing the deck for battle. She successfully pushed her
way through the throng, bursting into her quarters and grabbing the shining,
newly-sharpened blade from her bedspread. She tested it on the web of her
thumb, smirking in satisfaction when a thin line of blood flowered. The sound
of loud preparations lessened noticeably as Emma slid her sword back into its
place on her belt. "Shit," she murmured. That could only mean that she'd missed
Belle's warning shout that the merchant ship was in range. The colours would be
flying. It was time to pick this juicy plum.
Emma barrelled back up on deck, shoving crew out of the way without apology –
there would be time for that later when she could offer them the riches of this
loot. She reached Snow quickly, but not out of breath. Core fitness was an
underestimated quality in a good pirate.
The merchant ship was easily viewable by eye now, as was the hustle and bustle
on deck. Now, that was interesting. Warson might be an idiot, but clearly there
was somebody on deck who wasn't. Suddenly, there were a series of loud bangs.
The Captain instinctively ducked, but then realised the merchant ship hadn't
scored a single hit. Beside her, Snow was crowing with laughter. "C-captain…
they have gold balls!"
"Gold cannon balls?" She asked her Quartermaster disbelievingly, then fell
about laughing, clutching her sides in sheer hilarity. The idea was stupidity
in itself.
The merchant ship drew ever closer, but it hadn't fired again, clearly
recognising the futility of distance. But Emma's brow furrowed. At distance,
gold cannon balls were ridiculous. At close range… the damage would be
immeasurable.
"Ready!" She shouted suddenly, swinging the wheel around to block the path of
the merchant ship with only a second's warning. "FIRE!"
The order was repeated by her crew's yells and seconds later the blasts echoed
through the air, taking their impact on the other ship. Now it was listing
slightly to one side, but still heading strongly towards them. Still in control
of the wheel, Emma steered the ship so that it was parallel to the merchant
boat once more.
"Keep sailing her straight, boys!" The Captain yelled as they drew closer and
closer… now overlapping and then they were side-along. "FIRE!" She yelled again
as the fatal blasts sounded from both sides. Emma felt the impact of every gold
cannon ball that hit the ship but gritted her teeth and watched as the dwarves,
minus Grumpy, launched themselves towards the merchant ship – the 'Merry
Maiden', according to the paintwork.
But Captain Swan was soon distracted from trivial things like names by their
own visitors from the maiden. She engaged one while Snow tackled another on her
way to the mast, where the bow on her back would be most effective. Cut, parry,
cut, thrust… into the sailor's belly and he rapidly died on her sword. She
dodged another sailor with a scraggly beard just in time as he came hurtling
towards her yelling.
Lightning fast, she leapt on to him and shimmied up his body to grasp the rope
that he was already gripping tightly. Before he even opened his mouth to
scream, she impaled her knife in his forearm and watched in satisfaction as his
grip slackened and he plunged into the sea below.
Swinging from a rope to a different ship could be very disorienting, as the man
she had just stabbed could testify, but Emma was a very old hand. She
dismounted with the grace of a cat and found herself duelling two men – one
with the uniform of an ordinary sailor and one slightly higher up, a junior
officer perhaps. She stabbed the sailor with her already blood-stained knife as
the officer gargled through the arrow that had sprouted from his throat.
Captain Swan made a silent hand sign she knew the archer, Snow, would see
– thank you.
Her good luck ran out again quickly.
Somehow she'd been backed up against the wheel of the ship by four men with
varying degrees of murder in their eyes. Then all of a sudden, there was a
thick band of steel around her waist, a painful yanking sensation at her ribs
and a warm body at her back. Emma stiffened as the pair, herself and her
saviour, soared away from the men and landed heavily on the deck. The rope her
rescuer had used to save her continued along its trajectory as the breath
flooded back into her body.
The arm around her waist spun her face to face with her saviour. A sly grin
crept across his face as he dropped a kiss on the back of her hand. "Emma."
"Killian," she replied, narrowing her eyes at him. "As melodramatically
romantic as ever, I see."
"Can I help it if you inspire such emotion in me, sweetheart?" He replied,
jerking them both down to the floor as a sailor took a hopeful swipe at both of
their necks with a curved sabre three times his size.
"We'll catch up later Jones," Emma Swan commanded, pushing him off her. "And
try to keep that hook of yours to yourself for ten minutes…" she trailed off,
having spotted the good Captain Warson himself. She sprinted towards the
nearest stairwell and flung herself up it. The young man looked infernally
cocky and Emma itched to wipe the expression off his face. Later, she promised
herself. First, her eyes centred on the man with a stern grip on the railings,
yelling orders. Unless she was very much mistaken, he was the one who was
really in charge here.
Emma pitied him. The battle was looking increasingly hopeless, especially now
that Captain Killian Jones, known to most as Captain Hook, had joined the fray
with his own crew from The Jolly Roger which was situated alongside the
portside of the ship, whereas her own ship, The Bloody Blade was at the
starboard side. With twice the number of pirates, the battle would be short-
lived.
Captain Swan was abruptly torn from her analysis of the fight as the
authoritative man with the stiff stance turned to face her. She feigned a gasp
of surprise at seeing his features, although truthfully she had known who he
was the moment she had laid eyes on his iron-strong form.
"Admiral Stone," she bowed sweepingly, doffing her hat in respect. "What a
lovely surprise, seeing you here. We haven't had a chance to chat since, oh…
the Barricade of the Bluebottle."
"Swan," he nodded in a gesture of what would've been a respectful greeting had
he not drawn his sword at the same time. "As cocky as ever, I see. And as
beautiful," he reluctantly added.
"Immortality has it perks," she conceded. "At least I have good reason to be
cocky, unlike your young friend over there," she pointed with her sword at
Warson; he had just managed to lightly cut Bashful, one of her loyal Dwarves,
across the hip. "Next Admiral of the Winterlands navy is he? That should give
me an easy few decades."
"Over my dead body," the current Admiral growled, before seemingly recalling
who he was talking to. "What do you want Swan? I'm not interested in some
ridiculous duel to prove that the wound you inflicted on me during Bluebottle
has really done its job." He indicated his twisted and gnarled left leg, the
flesh of which ended at the knee and was continued on by a wooden calf.
"I'm a pirate," Emma said softly. "Not a bully."
Stone barked in laughter. "The two are rarely exclusive, but you're an
exception, dear. It'd be a lot easier to hate you for maiming me if you were a
bully." The man exhaled a hefty sigh. "All right, terms of surrender. You can
take whatever you like. Food, jewels, women… I don't care. And you can behead
Captain Warson as long as I can keep the ship."
Emma stared at him for a long second, and then chuckled. "You old dog. You
planned this. You wanted me to do the dirty work and kill Warson for you.
You knew I wouldn't be able to resist this ship and that's why you were sailing
so close to Tortuga." Her brow furrowed. "How'd you know I was making port
there tonight?"
Admiral Stone inclined his head. "I have my sources." A tiny hint of a smile
passed his lips. "And you're rash, Swan, but never stupid."
"I'll kill Warson for you," Emma told him. "But you're going to have to
surrender to me to make it look… authentic."
Stone rolled his eyes. "You don't have to enjoy it so much."
Emma grabbed his arm and twisted it up behind his back so he was effectively
pinned between her and the railings. She tugged on his arm lightly and Stone
took the cue to yell loudly in supposed pain. She drew her knife and held it to
his throat. "Surrender or he dies," she called loudly so it echoed across the
deck, where most of the fighting was taking place. Slowly it died out into
silence.
Captain Swan could easily tell the men of the Winterlands from those of the
Summerlands. The former slowly lowered their weapons after an almost
imperceptible nod from Admiral Stone. The latter dropped all of theirs with
clatter.
Emma turned her head to where she'd last seen Warson but the cowardly Captain
was racing to the side as if to jump over the edge. Her legs tensed to sprint
to where he was leaping through the air but then suddenly there was a yelp of
shock as a well-aimed arrow pierced his shirt and pinned him to the bow of his
ship.
"If you'd do the honours, Captain," Emma nodded to Hook who strode over to
where Warson dangled in three easy strides, yanking him up and ripping his
shirt open in the process. Hook marched back over to where she was standing and
dropped Warson, who was now snivelling like a dog at her feet.
Suddenly there was quiet dissent on deck; something unusual appeared to be
happening. The Admiral seemed to have noticed what was going on as well. "At
attention, men!" He roared. Emma watched the realisation dawn in the eyes of
his crew as Hook's most precious pirate – the Princess Aurora of Summerlands
and Autumnlands, boarded The Merry Maiden. The crew of The Bloody Blade sank
into deep bows and Emma, dragging Admiral Stone along with her, stepped forward
to kiss the Princess's hand. "Your Highness," she murmured.
"Careful, Swan," said a dangerous voice from the Princess's side. "I know what
you're like with beautiful women."
"Mulan." Emma greeted, clasping the warrior's forearm in greeting. "I'd kiss
your hand too but I don't want to piss Aurora off, especially since she seems
to be keeping your balls along with her own."
Aurora smiled daintily at her. "Don't get too indulgent with the compliments,
Captain. Now can we please continue with the looting? I've made enough of a
scene."
Emma drew Snow to one side. "Split the loot half and half with Hook's joke of a
Quartermaster."
Snow frowned. "Emma, it's been over a century. Can't you just…"
"No." She said shortly. "I won't forgive him. And it's Captain Swan to you,
unless we're alone. So split the loot and don't make a fuss while I take care
of the crew of this ship."
"Yes, Captain," Snow bowed her head deferentially and went off to deal with
Hook's Quartermaster. Emma took a breath to calm herself down, then approached
the men who had been organised into kneeling rows on the deck, specifically the
so-called Captain of the ship – Warson.
Grinning, she drew her dagger from its sheath and toyed with the edge before
pointing it under Warson's chin, forcing him to look up at her.
"Do you know who I am, boy?" She asked quietly, but threateningly.
"Some sea wench who thinks a hat and a knife make her a pirate," Warson
shrugged, his arrogance apparently overriding his fear. Either that, or he
wasn't feeling intimidated… yet.
Sighing with what seemed like frustration, but was actually pure enjoyment,
Emma reached up to remove the hat which was hiding her hair. Beautiful golden
curls fell down her back. "Know now?"
"You're not –" Captain Warson scoffed, then stopped suddenly. He looked up at
her in growing horror. "Captain Swan?"
She contemplated him a moment. "Since I'm feeling exceptionally generous
today, Captain Warson, I'll offer you a choice. You can challenge me to a duel
and fight for this ship and its crew…" she left a pause to make it clear that
was the expected course of action. "Or you can surrender immediately and I'll
set you and your crew free on the first random island I find… after taking
every valuable thing on this ship, of course."
The smug grin that made Emma want to punch this guy in his sensitive spot
crossed his face. She could have danced for joy but schooled her face into an
impassive face. He was going to jump for it and underestimate her, even in
spite of her reputation. The blonde curls did tend to mislead the majority of
people.
Emma made them all pay badly for that particular mistake.
"I'll take your fight, wench," Warson hissed loudly, to the approval of his
sailors who roared support. "How much of a challenge can a puny girl present?"
Emma sighed. "Somehow, you manage to make the combination of being cocky and a
pussy look unattractive." Her own pirates laughed uproariously. "Let's get on
with it then."
The crews of all three ships formed a small circle around a cleared area of
deck. Emma stripped off her long coat, tightened the silken sash around her
waist and drew her sword from its scabbard on her belt. Across the circle,
Warson was still in full uniform, as though he didn't expect even to break a
sweat.
"Arrogant son of a bitch," she muttered.
"His loss, darling," Hook had snuck up behind her. "I bet you can't finish him
in less than one minute."
"Usual terms?" Emma asked, cocking an eyebrow at him.
Hook grinned. "I'll have your Quartermaster keep the time and everything."
Emma met Warson in the middle of the circle, the slightest hint of swagger in
her walk. She was going to finish this cocky young boy and she was going to
finish him for good. Warson leered at her and then thrust forward in a sudden
attack, with no warning. Emma's razor sharp reflexes saved her as she darted
out of the way and twisted her sword underneath his. It almost slipped out of
his grip but Warson appeared to grasp it firmly again just in time.
She allowed a feral smile to cross her features. Ten seconds had passed, and
already a slip-up that almost cost him the duel. Emma began to pace around
Warson in a circle like a lion corners its prey. "I'm curious," Emma said,
probing his defences for the first time. Weak as a new-born baby, he was just
quick enough to catch her blade on his pommel. "I know you've heard of me, yet
for some reason you didn't fear me. Tell me, why was that?"
"The only female pirate Captain on the high seas. Of course you're famous."
Warson scoffed. "Fame is usually misleading. I'm pretty sure the pirate that
led the attack during the Barricade of the Bluebottle was a man with blonde
dreadlocks."
Quick as a flash, Emma dealt him matching slashes across his thighs and he sank
to the deck, groaning as blood spurted out of his legs. "Funny. I seem to
remember maiming dear Admiral Stone with a similar technique during
Bluebottle."
"I spared him." Emma lifted her sword above Warson's head. "But I won't spare
you." She brought it down sharply, severing his head from his neck and watching
silently as it rolled across the deck. "He's good and dead." Emma said shortly
to Stone.
"You can take what you like," Stone nodded to her. "As long as you leave the
ship, the crew and myself."
Emma nodded. "Our Quartermasters should nearly be finished with the division of
loot."
As if by cue, Snow approached her with a smile. "Baelfire and I-" The Captain
whirled around and pierced her with an icy stare. Snow hastily corrected
herself. "Hook's Quartermaster and I have reached a reasonable decision
regarding the splitting of loot." Emma nodded vacantly, watching a sailor pick
up the severed head of Warson from the deck. "Oh, and Emma?"
"Yes?" She answered, head snapping up to her own Quartermaster.
"Don't worry," Snow grinned. "We left you and Hook to bargain for the contents
of the armoury. He's waiting to discuss it in your quarters, I believe.
The Blade is all but empty otherwise. Charming and the other Quartermaster got
into a new disagreement on the Jolly Roger and Granny got out the special rum.
You two should have a few hours to yourselves for your… negotiation."
As always, Emma refused to take the bait. "Thanks. You'll save me some rum,
right?"
"As long as you're sated by the time we get to Tortuga."
"Snow!"
Emma turned her back on her Quartermaster and headed towards her own ship.
Somebody helpful had set down the gangplank so there was an easy access point
between The Bloody Blade and The Merry Maiden. She crossed it easily to step
down on her own beautifully worn deck.
Snow had been truthful, it was deserted. Emma took a second to inspect any
damage that might have been inflicted on her beautiful ship but finding nothing
serious, she descended the steps to her quarters.
He was waiting for her. Sprawled over her bedspread, sword and hat on the
nearby chair, cocky smile placed firmly on his face. "You took a minute and a
half to finish off Warson. I won."
"Ass," she told him vehemently. "Sit up then. And wipe that grin off your
face."
He scooted to the end of the bed, legs splayed wide open and the shady,
expectant grin still firm on his lips. Emma rolled her eyes and placed her
palms on his knees, sliding them upwards until she could feel tense thigh
muscles beneath her skin. The move brought her lips within centimetres of his
and she waited, teasing him…
With a sudden growl, he flipped her so fast the world spun and she was on her
back being pressed into the bedspread by his heavy weight. "Whores are less of
a tease."
"You like the challenge," she taunted right back but was abruptly cut off by
the press of his lips. She chuckled against them and wound her fingers in his
long hair, absentmindedly noticing that it needed a trim. She clenched her fist
down hard, pulling painfully on the strands in her grasps. His surprised gasp
provided her with the perfect opening to snake her tongue into his mouth.
Hook took it in his stride, reaching a hand between their bodies to loosen the
knots on the soft leather that bound her breasts in place. It fell away from
her chest and he pulled away from her mouth to suckle at her chest, covered
only by a thin white shirt.
"If I recall Swan," he murmured, switching from right to left. "I saved your
life and won the bet, so you owe me twice over."
"Ass," she repeated, rolling them over once again so that she was on top.
Emma pressed a hand to his torso, applying enough pressure to pin him firmly
down to the bed. She leaned forward to caress the shell of his ear with her
tongue, so far that her breasts almost spilled out of her shirt. He moaned
lustfully at the eyeful, knowing that it pissed her off. Emma rewarded him by
nipping hard at his earlobe. "Ouch, Swan!"
"Shut up, then," she ordered, moving down, lapping first at his clavicle and
then mapping a path down his torso with her tongue. He continued to whine and
groan as she dipped into his navel but she tuned it out as she always did.
Emma's hands, which had been busily pulling and pushing at his leather breeches
in the meantime, finally succeeded in pulling them down and off his legs.
"I've finally decided what I'm going to buy you for your birthday," Emma
commented as she wrapped her hand around his pulsing length.
Hook groaned. "For my 285th? What would that be then, lass? I'm still holding
out for anal sex…"
"I'm saving that for your 300th." Emma winked from her position. "Pants that
don't take ten minutes to get rid of," she answered, bending her neck to suck
his cock into her mouth and slid downwards until he was fully enveloped. His
hips bucked beneath her and she slowly began to suck softly.
Emma slid back up his length, leaving dampened skin in her wake until she could
flick her tongue across the head and then sucked down once again until her nose
was reacquainted with his balls.
"Emma," he choked out. Recognising the signs of an oncoming orgasm like an old
friend, Emma radically increased the pressure until she was sucking hard. With
a yell, he came and she drank down his seed, licking the last of it off her
lips with a seductive flick of her tongue.
He growled down at her with a predatory expression and the Captain could barely
contain a little shiver of excitement. Hook was at his best like this, savage
and virile, taking no prisoners. Not for the first time, she blessed all of her
Gods for his fast recovery time. She shimmied back up his body and found her
lips captured in a passionate kiss. Emma nipped down viciously, knowing it
would only serve to turn him on further.
It worked. With another animalistic snarl, he flipped them over once again and
rutted against shamelessly. Only the last barrier between them, her breeches,
stopped him from penetrating her completely. His hands grabbed at the hem,
pulling desperately but she slipped out from him, rolling off the bed and
dancing away to the opposite wall.
"You'll have to fight me for them," she told him with a shit-eating grin on her
face, blonde curls scattered all over her naked back and chest.
He bounded off the bed towards her. "I do have help," he held his steel hook
aloft and she shuddered in arousal. Hook reached for her wrists with his good
hand and lifted them above her head to pin her to the wall, hard. With his
hook, he made several precise and accurate cuts, severing her breeches from her
body. Suddenly, he used his foot to kick her legs apart and she would've fallen
had it not been for his firm hands pinning her there.
"Come on then, Hook," she taunted him. "Don't you deserve it? As my saviour?"
He chuckled against her skin. "Remind me why I let you leave my crew?"
Emma grinded uselessly against his hips, searching uselessly for friction
against her centre. "Because you knew I would have led the inevitable mutiny."
With a final gasp, he sank into her, mouthing and nipping at her neck. She let
a rare sigh of relief escape from her lips. Mercifully, he seemed to have had
enough of teasing her and kept his thrusts continual and frequent. Every time
he slammed back inside her, she shivered in pleasure as her back scraped
against the rough wood of her cabin.
Reaching between her legs, Hook rubbed his thumb over her bundle of nerves in
the pattern she liked best and it sent her tumbling over the edge, her internal
muscles clamping wildly and causing his second orgasm, spilling deep inside
her.
Emma's eyes fluttered open again after she had a chance to regain her breath
and watched as Hook toyed with the charm that hung on the chain around her
neck. "Do you think you'll ever take that charm off?"
The Captain frowned at him and eased herself away, walking on wobbly legs over
to the bedspread where she sat with a thump. "I doubt it. Another pregnancy is
low down on my list of priorities."
Hook flopped down on the bed beside her and lay on his back. "The first was two
hundred and fifty years ago."
She sighed, rolling on her stomach to look him in the eye. "Why are you pushing
this, Hook? If you've heard something from the Lost Boys…"
"No," he hastened to reassure her. "The last I heard he was still with them.
Frozen as a five-year-old. Unaware of time passing."
"Are you trying to make me feel guilty?" She demanded to know. "I gave up my
son to give him his best shot. I was a cabin girl on your pirate ship. Even
ending up with the Lost Boys was a better fate than ending up with me."
Hook sat up, locking eyes with her intently. "I'm going to drop this, I
promise. But just tell me, do you ever feel curious? You're the Captain of your
own ship now, love. You could do it."
Emma slowly shook her head. "No, I couldn't. The immortality spell on both of
our ships prevents aging, remember? I'd have to leave the ship to raise the
baby, and get older myself in the process. It's just a very bad idea, all
round." Then she kissed Hook again, desperately, and grasped wildly at any
opportunity to deflect the conversation. "So, let's negotiate about that
armoury…"
 
***** Stole the Queen *****
Chapter Notes
     Rating: M
     Characters/Pairing: Emma Swan/Regina Mills, Emma Swan/Captain Hook,
     Emma Swan/OFC, Snow White/Prince Charming, Belle/Rumplestiltskin,
     assorted other characters.
     Warnings: (this chapter) – Prostitution.
     Authors Notes: Many millions of thanks to my beta reader
     youngmachines.
     Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time does not belong to me, nor their
     characters or plots. The plot of this fanfiction belongs to
     shikabane-mai, and the artwork she drew can be found: post/
     46770603575/captain-emma-swan-and-her-former- bounty-mark
“Let us step into the night and pursue that flighty temptress, adventure.”
 
Captain Swan was half-dressed when there was a loud banging on the door to her
cabin. She pulled on a spare pair of breeches to replace the pair that Hook had
cut open before opening it. “Yes?” She asked, somewhat impatiently, as her
Boatswain, Charming, took in her appearance with a frown. Granted, a loose
shirt and breeches were slightly more revealing than her usual attire but it
wasn’t like she hadn’t swum naked in the sea every morning for the last two
hundred years.
”We’ll be docking in Tortuga in an hour or two,” Charming said hurriedly, his
eyes firmly fixed on a spot just above Emma’s forehead. She opened her mouth to
issue some order when the sudden placement of a large, warm hand on her hip
shocked the words away.
“Thanks mate,” Hook’s voice, right by her ear, was warmer than usual, the tone
he took on to screw with people. Wonderful. “We’ll be up on deck just as soon
as…” Emma felt his hand travel upwards from her hip, bunching up her shirt to
reveal several inches of skin.
The Captain rolled her eyes and swatted away the hand. “I’ll be at the wheel to
take the ship into port in two minutes, Charming.”
“Yes, Captain.” The poor man turned tail and ran, trotting quickly back up
towards the deck.
Hook’s body heat withdrew from behind her as he went to fasten his belt, the
only piece of clothing he had yet to put back on, unlike Emma who was barely
decent. She considered chewing him out, but decided it wasn’t worth the
trouble. “Here,” she tossed him his hat and he flipped it on backwards,
eliciting a laugh from her lips.
“Until we meet again, Captain,” Hook bowed deeply and mockingly, and then
stepped forward to sweep her up in a long, affectionate kiss.
Emma pushed him away, both palms flat on his torso. “Bullshit. I’ll see you in
the tavern tonight. Get back to your crew, asshole.”
“You wound me, Swan,” Hook paused by the door. “Next time we should make sure
Charming catches us in the act.” He darted through the exit before Emma’s boot,
the closest hard object she had to hand, hit him where it hurt.
“Ass,” she muttered fondly to herself, tugging on the boot that she’d lobbed
across the room.
It was late evening when Emma emerged on deck, fully clothed at last. Charming
was at the wheel, but the deck was otherwise deserted. He smiled at her when
she appeared, offering her the command once more. Emma took it, wrapping long-
calloused hands around the spokes of her ship.
Instead of going down to Snow’s bunk, as she’d expected, Charming leant back
against the railings of the ship. Emma winced. Despite her captaincy and their
lack of anything resembling a familial relationship, she was never quite able
to forget that she and Charming shared blood. On occasion, he remembered too
and did foolhardy things like trying to save her from a life of sin and
plunder. God, she hoped that wasn’t one of these occasions.
“I know I have no right to be telling you what to do –“ he began softly, but
Emma cut straight through him.
“No, you don’t,” she eyed him fiercely. “And I’ve been fucking Hook since long
before we were reunited so I don’t think it’s going to do me any harm now.”
It was testimony to the detached nature of their father-daughter relationship
that he didn’t even flinch at her crude words. “I just want you to be happy,
Emma. I was alone too, for a hundred years before I found you again. I know how
hard it is.”
Emma snorted, keeping her eyes on the ocean. “Please do not preach me your life
story. It’s hardly an inspirational one. Born a Prince of Neverland, where
nobody ever ages. Sponsored in the Summerlands where you were spoilt beyond the
point of no return. Came of age and went home, and then seventy years later,
having learned sod all in that time, you knocked up a peasant in the lower
town, who gave birth to yours truly.” Emma’s voice took on a bitter tone.
“Then, your father decided to sponsor his illegitimate granddaughter in Tortuga
– infamous home of pirates, whores and thieves and what did you do to stop it?
Fuck all.”
Charming, whose face had grown increasingly thunderous during her recital,
protested loudly. “I went looking for you! I was disinherited, for you!”
Emma shook her head slowly. “Too little, too late. By then I was already
pregnant, working as a cabin girl on Hook’s ship. So the next time you want to
preach me the virtues of happiness and companionship, remember that you were
the one who abandoned me and Killian was the one who took me in.”
Her father spluttered a little, but it was clearly he had nothing else to say.
Her voice, which had gone cold, softened. “You’re a good Boatswain, Charming.
But you’re not my father. Go and find Snow. I’m sure she’ll lick your wounds.”
And then, mercifully, he left. Trotting down the staircase to the barracks of
the ship; he looked back regretfully, but Emma kept her eyes on the horizon.
It wasn’t that much further to Tortuga now and the Captain sighed gratefully as
she finally brought her Bloody Blade into dock at the port. Grumpy, whom
someone had evidently let loose from the brig, was first across the gangplank
to shore and Emma had to fight back a laugh at his enthusiasm. For some strange
reason, he was the only one of the seven brothers who possessed any kind of sex
drive. The whores in Tortuga were fine enough (she should know) but Emma was
sure that Grumpy’s enthusiasm for a particular individual by the name of Nova
was unrivalled.
“I heard that you ripped into Charming,” said a quiet voice from behind her and
taken by rare and total surprise, Emma whirled around, her hand on her sword
hilt.
It was Snow. Of course. Despite her tenure on The Bloody Blade being
comparatively brief (twenty five years, compared to Emma’s two centuries), she
was very adept at confrontation. Perhaps it came of being Quartermaster, almost
as powerful as a Captain, Emma mused, then realised than Snow was awaiting an
answer. “Sorry?” She said, running a hand through her hair absentmindedly.
“I was just saying,” replied the other woman with her trademark saint-like
patience. “Bitterness is a terrible burden to carry. And yet you almost seem to
embrace it. My father abandoned me too, but I’ve never met him, let alone
talked to and given him orders every day. How do you do it?” Snow paused, then
rephrased. “Why do you do it?”
Emma smiled wryly. “I see it isn’t my day for escaping personal conversations.
I do it because my Boatswain is not my father. He’s Charming – a competent,
vicious pirate whom I trust and count on. My father is just some asshole who
abandoned me on Tortuga when I was less than a week old. In my eyes, they’re
two totally separate people, understand?”
Snow nodded hesitantly. “But compartmentalising the two can’t be healthy for
you, Emma.”
For once, she chose to ignore the use of her first name. “Tell you what, I’ll
let you and Charming use my Quarters tonight if you let me leave the ship
without saying anything else personal or invasive.”
“Seriously?” Snow raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to bribe me to leave you
alone?” Emma nodded, silently confused as to why Snow would be surprised by
that. “Okay.” Her step-mother agreed, stepping out of her path to the
gangplank. “But this conversation isn’t over!”
Emma grabbed her hat from where it rested on the spokes of her wheel and left
the ship via gangplank with a sigh of relief. She loved her crew, she really
did, but doubted that any male pirates had the kind of problems she did. Why
were they all so interested in her life? It had been an extremely long one,
with several dull periods stretched between the exciting and all-too-brief
major events.
She shook her head and attempted to forget about the invasive conversations
she’d had with her father and his wife. Tonight was going to be about getting
very drunk and getting laid. But first, she double checked the security of the
large sack of gold that was strapped to her back, she had to visit her
merchant.
It was late, Emma knew, but Gold never restricted himself with anything so
mundane as opening hours. And as far as she knew, he rarely frequented the many
local taverns. There was a good chance –
Then the door swung open and she was greeted with the face of her navigator,
whose body was wrapped only in a semi-translucent robe.  “Belle?” She asked
incredulously. “What the he-“
“My apologies,” came a smooth voice from behind the mollified woman who stood
at the door in front of her Captain. “Miss French and I were just becoming re-
acquainted. You were at sea for many months, Captain Swan… ergo I assume you
came for supplies?”
Emma blinked. “That’s right.”
Gold’s snake-like face whispered something in Belle’s ear and she nodded once.
“Can we talk later, Captain?”
“Looking forward to it,” she replied, with the inflection in her voice that
when they didtalk, what Belle said had better be pretty damn good. Shooting her
one last embarrassed look, Belle disappeared into a door off the side of the
hallway.
Gold led her through to the backroom where he did the majority of his trade. As
usual, it was full of the odd little trinkets that gave this particular
merchant his oddball character. But what Emma wanted were standard supplies.
After detailing exactly what she wanted, Emma took a seat on a convenient chair
as Gold collected her items from storage. She tried to wrap her mind around
what she had seen. Belle, most likely recently naked, in the house of Gold of
all people. Was he paying her? But Belle was no common whore. She had
petitioned to join Emma’s crew about fifty years ago, the well-educated
daughter of a duke in the Springlands. Emma had needed a navigator, so she’d
said yes. The Captain hadn’t been particularly curious about the girl’s past; a
simple check had told her all she needed to know. Daddy had kicked out his
little girl for sleeping with the wrong kind of man so she’d stolen all of his
money.
It was the kind of behaviour Emma heartily encouraged so she’d welcomed Belle
aboard.
Perhaps Gold was indeed ‘the wrong kind of man’. Maybe Belle wasn’t screwing
him for money, but for love?
Emma’s musings were interrupted by the return of the merchant himself. “It’ll
be ready for collection in the morning. I trust you’ll be sending the usual men
down to collect it? I’ll make sure your navigator’s long gone by that time.”
“Sure,” she replied easily. “How much?”
“The total, with your special discount,” Gold sneered at her poisonously. “460
gold pieces.”
“Ah Gold,” Emma sighed. “And here I was, sure you could do me one better.”
“And why would that be? I already halved your price.” He kept it calm, cool,
but Emma was sure that his legendary temper couldn’t be too far off.
“Well,” Emma tasted the word and grinned at approaching victory. “You agreed to
halve my price as long as I told nobody of your true identity. But that was
when you cared for nothing and nobody; only about preserving your own life
against the inevitable raging mob if anybody found out who you really were.
Now, you could lose Belle if she knew that your true name…” Emma leant forward
to hiss her words in Gold’s ear. “… was Rumplestiltskin.”
“Evil whore!” He screeched and she withdrew rapidly, flinching at the volume of
his noise. “Just because you birthed my bastard grandson, you do not have the
right to blackmail me! I could kill you for your insolence!”
“But you won’t,” Emma shook her head. “Because then you’d ruin any chance of
your son reuniting with you. Not to mention you’ve thrown Belle into the stakes
as well. How do you think she’d feel if she found out that you murdered her
dear Captain?”
Rumplestiltskin shook his head side to side, slowly, as if he couldn’t quite
believe his predicament.
“Just half it again,” Emma sighed. This day had been far too long for her
liking. “It’s not like it makes any difference to you anyway. You spin gold for
a hobby.”
He rolled his eyes and held out his hand. “That’ll be 230 gold pieces, then,
Captain Swan.” Emma threw him a leather sack containing the bulk of it, then
counted out the remaining thirty.
“Pleasure doing business with you, Gold.” Emma rose from her seat. “Do return
my navigator when you’re done defiling her.”
“Don’t push it, Swan,” he growled back, showing her to the door and slamming it
viciously behind her. Emma winced in sympathy for Belle, doubtlessly waiting in
his bedchamber. She was in for a surprise at Gold’s redoubled nastiness.
Thankfully it was only a short walk from Gold’s house to her old haunt, The
Snake’s Sceptre. God knew she could really use a drink or three by now. Emma
pushed open the door and revelled in the waiting warmth. Settling into a bar
stool with a relieved groan, the Captain was surprised to find her drink of
choice pushed across the counter. Unhesitating, she gripped the large tankard
and downed at least half of it in one go. Then and only then did she raise a
questioning eyebrow at the bartender.
“Woman over there, Capt’n,” the long familiar face told her, indicating a
hooded figure sitting alone in a booth. “Jus’ asked what you usually drank an’
wanted to put it on ‘er tab. She also said some bullshit about wanting to talk
to you about some diplomatic crap. If she ain’t some royal tart, I’m a fucking
pig’s bollocks.”
Emma downed the rest of her tankard. “Thanks, Stan. Can I get a refill?”
“You got it, Capt’n.” Her drink topped up to the brim once again, Emma made her
way through the bustling and heavy throng, finally dropping into a seat just
opposite the woman who’d bought her the drink.
They sat in a moment’s silence before Emma deduced that she was the one
expected to break it. “Thanks,” she indicated her tankard. “For the drink.”
“It didn’t take you long to knock it back, I noticed,” the woman replied. Her
voice held the inflection of one who’d been taught to talk very properly. It
was also slightly more gravelly than Emma had been expecting; somebody in
disguise perhaps, or maybe just an older woman. But what the hell did this
mysterious female want with her?
Her hooded companion seemed to almost read her mind. “I need a service from
you.”
Emma sighed and sat back in her seat. She had almost hoped after a least a
century of infamy that she was rid of this shit. “I’m a pirate, lady, not a
whore. And as much as you might want to rebel from your privileged little life,
wanting to fuck a pirate is not the right way to go about it.”
“Unfortunately I don’t share your proclivities, Captain Swan.” The woman
snapped back. “And the kind of service I require from you takes longer than an
hour and needs more of you than your fingers and sharp little tongue.”
Emma’s eyes widened imperceptibly. Whoever this woman was, she evidently was
neither young nor vacant nobility. Perhaps Stan’s assessment of her identity,
which Emma had brushed off, had been right. Maybe she wasdealing with royalty.
“Alright then. What service,” she put emphasis on the term, “would you like
from me?”
The hooded woman leant forward, lacing her fingers together as if to prepare
herself to tell a story that she had recited many times before. “About five
years ago, I arranged a marriage between my daughter and a very powerful,
wealthy man. I knew she was upset about the match; she was only seventeen years
of age and he was over forty years her senior. It was a marriage that was
essential for our family and I believed that my daughter understood that.”
Emma interrupted. “This is gonna be a whole lot easier to remember if you give
me names, places… that kind of thing.”
The woman paused and the Captain was willing to bet good money that she was
frowning at her beneath that hood. “If I reveal myself, you must swear not to
identify me to anybody else on this godforsaken island. It is of the utmost
importance.”
“I swear,” Emma promised, her curiosity aroused.
The woman lifted her hood just slightly, enough to reveal her face and hair to
Emma without showing anybody else in the tavern. Emma just about managed to
quell a gasp but fighting the surprise off her face was an impossible task. “I
won’t bow and give you away but what in holy hell is the Queen of Springlands
doing in a tavern in Tor-fucking-tuga? Talking to a pirate?”
The now re-hooded Queen leant further forward and growled in her most un-
ladylike moment yet. “Keep your voice down,pirate! And to avert suspicion, you
will address me as Cora while we are in this public place surrounded by
ruffians.”
Emma drew in a long breath and let it out, processing for a moment. “Okay,
Cora. So about your daughter… hang on. I think I heard about this when I was
last in the Springlands which would have been…” she screwed up her features.
“Four years ago. Your daughter… her name’s Regina, right? Princess Regina? She
was supposed to marry King Leopold of Winterlands, but didn’t she run away?”
“To Neverland. Boarded the first ship she could find.” Cora confirmed bitterly.
“I’ve tried everything I can think of. Huntsmen. Astrologers. Adventurers.
Young Princes burning to rescue lost Princesses. Nobody has succeeded.”
Emma nodded, as if coming to her own conclusions. “A pirate is your last
resort.” She reclined in her seat. “I’ll do it. But I expect to be well-
compensated. And I want to know why you’re asking me. Most people pass me up
because I have tits.”
Cora sighed. “And every time I think you’re a little less common than most
pirates, you go and prove me wrong. I’m asking you because my father-in-law,
King Xavier, always spoke highly of the services you performed for him. As I
understand it, you retrieved a valuable family artefact.” The Queen paused a
moment before adding her final reasoning. “I also know that there are very few
pirates that will risk a journey to Neverland, and you’re one of them.”
Emma ran a hand through her lengthy blonde curls. Something about the whole
situation didn’t quite sit right, but she discarded it. That morning, she’d
beheaded a young man. Returning a Princess to her fiancée would hardly be the
worst of her crimes. In addition, it would be a good challenge, the likes of
which she hadn’t had in a long time. For some reason, it had become unnecessary
to continue to prove herself on the high seas somewhere around her 150th
birthday.
“That compensation,” Emma pressed. “How much?”
“In the spirit of fairness,” Cora murmured from under her hood. “I’ll offer you
the same as all the others I’ve sent hunting my daughter. 50,000 gold pieces on
her safe return. 5,000 for her body, if you find her dead.”
Emma whistled. “That is fair.”
“What do you say, Captain?” Cora wanted to know. “Do we have an accord?”
The blonde shook the hand of her companion with a triumphant expression. She
was about to suggest she bought Cora a celebratory drink when the other woman
slid a leather bound journal across the table towards her. “I need to leave, my
ship back to the Springlands leaves in less than 30 minutes, but first you’ll
need that book. It contains every piece of information I’ve heard about
Regina’s current whereabouts since her disappearance five years ago. There are
also drawings of her in there so you’ll be able to recognise her when you do
find her.”
Emma nodded, pocketing the journal in her overcoat for detailed perusal later
on.
“One final thing, Captain,” Cora told her. “You have four months until I send
somebody else out. When you have my daughter in your possession, please send a
messenger to me and I will meet yourself and my Princess at the docks of Port
Wordsworth in the Springlands.”
“Understood, your Majesty,” Emma nodded once. Cora slid out of the booth and
strode away into the night, being greeted by a bulky man who had been waiting
at the entrance. Her guard, Emma guessed. Even royalty wasn’t arrogant enough
to walk into a Tortugan tavern without any precaution whatsoever.
The pirate watched as the Queen of Springlands strode away into the distance,
then reclined once more. It was a good job that she had just resupplied because
The Bloody Blade and its crew had a very long journey ahead.
 
It didn’t take very long to find Hook.
Emma hadn’t left Evermore in almost half a decade and Hook had borrowed her
beautifully detailed maps of Neverland long ago for his own agenda. She would
need them, as well as a little magic, if she wanted to arrive in Neverland in a
timely fashion. Hence, she needed to find her old Captain, the usual provider
of such objects.
The key to finding Hook was to think like him; and as their needs were not so
different anymore, Emma considered her own. What did she really feel like right
now? A hot bath with a naked companion.
Her feet seemed to know the answer before she did and redirected her on a path
toward an extremely old haunt. Blue’s. Maybe the most infamous brothel at the
port, it was where she’d met Hook… 256 years ago. It had also been where she’d
met the father of her child, and screwed him, but Emma chose not to dwell on
that.
The brothel was stiflingly hot, as always. Emma could never figure out if that
was to encourage customers and workers to disrobe, or to encourage them to
finish their business quickly. The former was a success, the latter a terrible
failure.
Almost immediately on entry, there was a pretty brunette with blue-green eyes
and a wide-eyed, innocent smile hanging off her arm. “Emma! Blue said that you
were making port tonight but nobody believed her… Emma you haven’t been here in
six months!I missedyou. Nobody ever smells as good as you – it must be that
perfume you get from the Summerlands – I said I’d let you have a whole night
free if you brought me some back. Did you remember Emma? Please say you did –“
Emma chuckled, coming to a halt on the stairs. “The perfume’s in my satchel,
Allison,” she murmured in her ear. “But first I need to talk to Hook. Do you
have any idea…?”
“Where you can find him?” The girl breathed excitedly back. “Sure! He’s with
Leslie tonight. Second left door on the third landing.”
Emma brushed her lips across the young girl’s cheek. “Take the satchel. I’ll be
with you as soon as I’ve finished with Hook.”
“I’ll be waiting,” Allison replied breathily, bounding up the stairs ahead of
Emma.
The Captain followed the little minx, laughing under her breath and remembering
just how much she loved Tortuga. It was a pity that now they were only going to
be able to make port for one night. She was pretty sure Grumpy would never
forgive her for tearing him away from Nova again so soon. But then again, she
giggled quietly, Grumpy’s finances would probably embrace her in a tearful hug.
Third landing… second door… left… Aha. She’d recognise Hook’s pre-orgasm
whining anywhere. Without bothering to knock, she pushed the door open and
watched in amusement as Hook’s whore – was Leslie her name? – fell off him in
surprise.
“Swan,” Hook growled, fitting two well-scarred hands to the whore’s hips and
sitting her back on top of him. “What in the hell do you want and can it not
wait five minutes?”
“Thirty seconds more like,” Emma smirked as she casually insulted him. “Go
ahead. I’ll indulge my voyeuristic side while you delay my very important
business.”
“Thanks,” Hook winked in satisfaction, rolling his hips upwards. The girl,
Leslie, seemed to get the hint and rose upwards, to then slam her hips back
down again. The burn of Emma’s eyes on their bodies must have been even more
arousing, because it took a shorter time to finish than even she had predicted.
Looking thoroughly sated and windswept, Hook allowed himself a moment on his
back, before climbing out of the sheets. Unashamed of his nakedness, Hook
clambered into a loose pair of breeches before settling himself back down on
the bedspread to face her. “So?”
“I’ve been offered a deal,” Emma smirked. “I have to find the missing Princess
of Springlands and return her to her dear and very elderly fiancé in exchange
for a small fortune.”
“Sounds simple enough,” Hook groaned as he stretched the kinks out of his back.
Emma fought the urge to roll her eyes as his whore followed the flexing muscles
in his back with hungry eyes. Wasn’t it the girl’s job to see naked men every
day?
“Well it would be if she was in Evermore…” Emma let the tension drag out. “But
her mother says that I can find her in Neverland.”
Hook grinned, crossing back over to a chair next to a small, dingy window where
most of his possessions lay. “You’ll be wanting your maps back then, lass.”
“Right,” Emma replied. “And if you could spare a bean or two…”
Hook paused during his rifling search for the maps he had borrowed off Emma.
“Ah,” he murmured. “That may be a little more complex than returning a borrowed
item.” He withdrew a long, cylindrical container from his possessions and threw
it across the room to Emma, who caught it with one hand. Then he held up a
small cloth bag, just big enough to contain one or two small valuables. “My
last bean.”
Emma held out her hands as if to catch it but Hook did not oblige. “There’s a
hitch, lass. Beans are as rare as diamonds now, rarer in fact, considering the
dwarves are still selling us their goods whereas the giants have shut up shop.”
Hook frowned, as if the taste of what he was about to say sat unpleasantly in
his mouth. “In return for this, I want you to retrieve Rumplestiltskin’s dagger
and bring it back to me.”
The blonde Captain was vaguely aware of her jaw falling open. “The dagger which
you have failed to locate for two hundred and fifty years? You want me to find
it, whilst also tracking down an erstwhile Princess, all in the space of four
months?”
Hook tucked the purse containing the bean back into the depths of his coat,
shrugging. “Those are the terms, Swan. If you don’t like ‘em, you’re going to
have to take the long route to Neverland. And I know where the dagger is; I
just can’t go there. My crew will mutiny against me if I try.”
“That sounds promising.” Emma sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Tell me
where the dagger is, and I’ll retrieve it for you.”
In a swift, slick movement, Hook withdrew the pouch from his coat once more and
chucked it across the room. Emma caught it deftly  and pocketed it. “Hollow
Isle,” Hook almost seemed to savour the words. “He hid the dagger on Hollow
Isle.”
“Hollow Isle… in the middle of the Sea of Monsters?Are you insane?” Emma
demanded. “Don’t you remember what happened the last time we journeyed to the
Sea of Monsters?”
“It’s hard to forget losing almost everything you have.” Hook commented. “Will
you do this for me or not?”
Emma sighed. “Yes. But only because my crew is so much more obliging than
yours.” Maps and bean now firmly in possession, she made to move towards the
door. “I think that these next four months will be the price for the last
thirty years of peace.”
Hook was already distracted by his whore, who had recaptured his attention, but
managed to regain the decorum to answer her. “Aye, lass, but don’t you feel
alive again?”
He’d always known her too well, Emma grumbled to herself as she descended the
stairs back down to the second landing. Did he know that right now, her nerve
endings were tingling from the small of her back to the tips of her
extremities? That her stomach was tightening in anticipation. That her lips
kept quirking in excitement every time she considered the challenges ahead of
her?
Emma stopped on the second landing, a genuine smile crossing her face. If she
was going to be on her adventures for the next four months, she might as well
enjoy her last night on land. With that thought, she knocked briefly on the
third door along, before pushing it open and finding Allison lying on the
bedspread, twiddling her thumbs.
“Emma!” The young brunette breathed, bouncing off the mattress and stealing her
pirate’s hat. She placed it on her head at a jaunty angle and beamed at the
Captain. “What do you think?”
“You’re too adorable to be a pirate,” Emma growled back with underlying
affection, scooping her up and throwing her back on the mattress. Allison
squealed in surprise. “Guess where I’m making port next, Allie?”
“Are you going back to the Summerlands?” She asked, watching the blonde with
wide eyes as she lowered her lips to the pale skin of the brunette’s neck.
“Sadly, no,” Emma shook her head. “Guess again.” Her trail of kisses ended when
Allison, in a surprising show of strength, rolled them over so she was on top.
“Nu-uh Swan; you brought me perfume, it’s my turn to return the favour. Are you
going… to the Springlands?”
“Not yet,” her breath hitched as Allison’s mouth descended further down her
body. “But soon. Try again.”
Allison latched onto a nipple, which she toyed with as she contemplated her
next guess.  “The Autumnlands? Their new Queen is very powerful, I heard.”
“No,” Emma laughed throatily as arousal burned fiercely below. “Anyone would be
better than old King Walden; he was an incompetent bastard.”
“And he outlawed pirates,” Allison giggled, nipping her way down Emma’s
stomach. “As if that would stop them.”
“As if, indeed,” Emma murmured, her breath hitching at the first touch of the
whore’s tongue to her centre. “One more guess then, Allie.”
“Winterlands,” Allison murmured into the Captain’s folds and she shuddered at
the sensation.
“Wrong again,” she hissed as a tongue flicked over her clit. Then one… two…
three slim fingers slid inside her and Emma was gone, twisting her fists in the
sheets, her hips bucking. Allison crawled up beside her as she came down from
her high and nuzzled her nose in Emma’s neck.
Emma sighed in satisfaction at the press of their bodies together. “Neverland.
I’m going to Neverland.”
***** From Her Bed *****
Chapter Notes
     Authors Notes: Many millions of thanks to my beta reader
     youngmachines. This is the last chapter to be without Regina's
     shining grace!
     Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time does not belong to me, nor their
     characters or plots. The plot of this fanfiction belongs to
     shikabane-mai, and the artwork she drew can be found: post/
     46770603575/captain-emma-swan-and-her-former- bounty-mark
 
“Of all the delectable islands the Neverland is the snuggest and most compact,
not large and sprawly, you know, with tedious distances between one adventure
and another, but nicely crammed. When you play at it by day with the chairs and
table-cloth, it is not in the least alarming, but in the two minutes before you
go to sleep it becomes very nearly real. That is why there are night-lights. ” 
 
Captain Swan oversaw the final loading of the supplies into the hold of The
Bloody Blade with something approaching adrenaline; which was odd as she had
never before experienced such a kick from watching salted bacon being heaved on
board a ship.
Much to her surprise, Hook had come to see her off. He was definitely not the
sentimental type from anybody's perspective, but once in a while he displayed a
rare soft spot. Emma appreciated and admired her old Captain, but often missed
the emotionally raw and affectionate man she had first met two and a half
centuries ago, four months pregnant and desperate to escape her miserable life.
These rare moments of sentimentality were all that was left of the man who had
been stolen by Rumplestiltskin.
Then of course, he ruined her reminiscence with a typically perverse remark.
"Try not to die on your little quest Swan; I don't know anybody else who's
willing to wager oral sex instead of money."
"That's because nobody else is quite as willing to put up with your shit as I
am," Emma commented, trying to do a mental roster of her crew. Charming and
Snow... present. Granny… yep. Red… still pulling her shirt on and rubbing her
eyes blearily but definitely present. The last of the cargo was rolled onto the
ship by Charming and the Dwarves and Emma watched as the final preparations for
setting sail were completed.
"See you in a couple of months then, Killian," Emma offered him her forearm for
clasping.
Killian grasped it. "Silly wench," he muttered, sneaking an arm around her
waist and gathering her up for a perfunctory kiss on the lips. "I won't miss
you."
The blonde Captain doffed her hat at him. "I won't miss you either."
And with that farewell and his distant salute, Emma boarded her ship, ready to
set sail on her new adventure, veins piping adrenaline all around her body.
Red, her Master Gunner, caught up to her the second her well-polished boot
stepped on to the wooden deck. "We've got a problem, Captain." Emma's heart
sank through her previously-mentioned, well-polished boot and into the water
below. A 'problem' by Red's standards was the last thing she needed on the dawn
of a voyage as great as this one.
"What's the problem?" Emma asked her Master Gunner, mentally preparing herself
for the worst. Damage to the ship from the battle yesterday? Maybe after two
hundred years of Emma's ambitious schemes, the crew had thrown in the towel and
organised a mutiny?
Red bit her lip. "It's Grumpy. He's refusing to leave port without Nova."
A long relieved sigh escaped Emma's lips. Grumpy, she could deal with. "Nova?
As in the whore, Nova? She wants to join the crew?"
Red contained her own smile at Emma's incredulous tone. The relationship
between Grumpy and his whore, Nova, was a long-standing joke on board The
Bloody Blade. In the last decade, from the moment the ship docked in the
harbour at Tortuga until the moment the anchor was raised, Grumpy would be in
the company of Nova. Emma, being the sensitive sort of soul she was, assumed
that the girl was merely a fantastic lay. But if Grumpy wanted to bring her
with him on board… well, that could only lead to trouble.
"Can you send him into my quarters when you find him, please Red?" Emma asked
distractedly, already halfway down the stairs. "And tell the crew we'll set
sail as soon as I've dealt with this… issue."
"Absolutely, Capt-" But the rest of the girl's words were lost as Emma slipped
into the relative peace and sanctity of her Quarters. Her bedspread was still
rumpled from her activities with Hook the previous day and Emma set about
fixing that first; smoothing the sheets and straightening the thin covers. She
was more or less impervious to the cold but in the dead of winter in the truest
of northern seas, blankets did tend to come in handy.
As Emma finished her small relapse into past domesticity, there was a knock at
the door. Grumpy, she guessed. "Come in!" The blonde yelled loudly, seating
herself with a thump on her desk, the transaction records from Gold making a
curiously comfortable cushion.
Grumpy entered. From a single analytical glance at his face, Emma could tell
that she was in trouble. Any pirate worth their salt could tell the willingness
to take no prisoners in someone's features and that was what she was looking at
now. Mind you, taking no prisoners was how this particular pirate approached
life in general, so perhaps she shouldn't be so concerned.
"I want Nova to join our crew," the dwarf said determinedly, with no preamble
whatsoever.
Emma wiggled a little. It felt like she was sitting on something very
uncomfortable. "And is that what Nova wants?" She asked, sliding off the desk
and turning her back to Grumpy in order to rifle through the paperwork.
"She wants to be with me," Grumpy said, sounding insulted at her insinuation
that he was forcing her on board. "And if that means joining a pirate ship,
she'll do it."
Emma finally located the uncomfortable object – her grindstone. Clambering back
on to the table, she flipped it over in her hands. "You know, despite their
general respectability, there are eleven other men on this crew and out of all
of them, only Charming is immune to whores."
"You're the Captain!" Grumpy stated indignantly. "Isn't stopping them taking
advantage your job?"
"It's impossible to take advantage of whores," Emma pointed out, drawing her
dagger from its sheath. She ran the grindstone along its length, sharpening the
blade. "Does Nova know how to fight? Does she have her own weapon?"
Grumpy glared at her. "Nova doesn't want that life anymore!"
Emma sighed, stilling the movement of the grindstone over her blade in order to
fix her most disorderly pirate with a glare. "I'm going to assume that the sum
of Nova's experiences with weaponry begins and ends with dicks. So I'm not
going to be paying her any fresh wages. You can either split yours with her or
she goes without. But I'm happy to provide basic necessities like food as long
as she pulls her weight on the ship." Sensing an argument about to arise, Emma
held up her hand. "That's more than fair, Grumpy. Take it or leave it."
His voice was grudging, but accepting. "Thank you," he murmured as though it
pained him. Then a clash of door on wood signalled his hasty exit.
Captain Swan had just resumed sharpening her blade, the consistent up and down
movements soothing her inflamed irritation, when yet another knock came at the
door. "It's open," she yelled, finishing the tip of the blade with a flick of
the grindstone.
Snow and Red entered, the former looking reasonably cheerful and the latter
downright miserly. "We've accounted for everybody, plus one," Snow informed
her. "I hear Grumpy has decided to escort his escort on board."
"You heard right," Emma said. "Bloody fools both of them. It's only a matter of
time before the less respectable members of our crew decide that having a whore
on board is too much of a temptation to resist and then where will we be?"
Red shuddered. "God forbid we have to get the plank out of storage. Last I
heard, the termites got at it."
Emma hopped off the table and stretched out her back, hearing the kinks in her
spine pop in satisfaction. Snow winced and spoke her mind. "The plank is a
death sentence. It shouldn't come to that."
Their Captain shook her head, re-sheathing her dagger in her belt. "The death
sentence is reserved for pirates who kill their fellows or arrange a mutiny. If
the former happens over a whore, well, I will not be happy." Emma sighed at the
displeasing hypothetical situation, and then changed the subject. "Are we ready
to set sail?"
"Aye aye, Captain," Red saluted.
Emma grabbed an old tankard of rum from her desk, taking a long swig and
smacking her lips in satisfaction. "Alrighty, then." She jammed the tankard in
the large overcoat pockets specifically designed for such purposes.
Coming up on deck was always a breath of fresh air, quite literally, but the
blonde Captain was so accustomed to it she didn't blink twice. Instead, she
made her way to the wheel of the ship, fingering the wooden spokes that were so
old and so familiar. "Hoist the anchor!" She yelled, pitching her voice so it
carried across from the quarterdeck where she was standing all the way to the
bow. "Lower the sails!"
The flurry of activity that followed her commands spread across the ship just
like her voice. The seven Dwarves each pushing hard on round spokes used to
hoist the anchor free of the sea bed. Red and Snow were releasing the sails
from the main mast and the third mast respectively, while Nova assisted Belle
in lowering the sails of the foremast. The wind caught and with her usual
creaking groan (the Blade wasn't as young as she used to be), Emma's precious
ship moved out of the harbour.
Emma had the wheel and was chasing the horizon with the usual manic grin that
accompanied being allowed to sail the open sea once more. She beckoned Snow
closer to her while keeping both hands on the wheel. Her Quartermaster
approached and the blonde threw her the pouch containing the bean which Hook
had given her. Snow caught it with deft hands.
"Lob it into the sea, as far as you can," Emma instructed, passing the Tortugan
harbour walls and finding, to her joy, that other than The Bloody Blade, the
sea was all but deserted. She watched with a careful eye as Snow followed her
instructions, her powerful arm muscles which had been built through decades of
archery, setting the bean on a long trajectory. It landed with a splash at
least thirty metres away.
Emma waited in tense anticipation, smiling only when the portal was formed and
refracting green light everywhere. "Here we go!" She yelled, containing a
squeak as the ship tumbled over the edge of the portal and the entire pirate
crew plunged down into the darkness.
Travelling through a portal was not for the weak-hearted. Nauseating. Blinding.
Lightning fast. Scary as hell. Pitch-black.
No matter how many times she did jump from Neverland to Evermore and back
again, Emma could never quite quell the feeling of her stomach in her mouth.
Mercifully, her throwing up had stopped after the first few times. And she was
glad to see, that despite half a decade having passed since her last portal
jump, she hadn't lost the knack of holding down her breakfast.
Suddenly light re-entered her world. The sea was greener than it was before and
Emma turned around to look back across the sea. The portal was just closing and
beyond that was a shimmering translucent barrier. Neverland's version of a
border. Within it, magic worked. Outside, it was extremely limited.
"Welcome to Neverland!" Emma yelled out.
"CAPTAIN! MAN OVERBOARD!" Came a roar from down on deck. The blonde quickly
surrendered control of the wheel to Charming, who now boasted green-tinged skin
but took it anyway. Emma raced down the steps, jumping the last three to join a
gathering crowd at the port side of the ship.
"Out of the fucking way," Emma snarled, pushing her crew aside until she broke
through. Grumpy looked at her, still pale and shaky from the portal hop, and
pointed towards the water. Emma craned her neck over the side, shuddering with
horror when she realised who he had yelled about.
An unconscious girl lay flat on her back on a piece of driftwood, floating
aimlessly over the bow waves that The Bloody Blade was giving out. But the
horrified expressions surrounding her were for the unmistakeably round curve of
her belly. She was pregnant.
"Grumpy, Bashful," Emma ordered. "Take Doc and haul her aboard. Check her
breathing and make sure there's no lasting harm. Now!"
The three Dwarves she'd mentioned hurried off to launch a dinghy on their
little rescue mission. "Dopey, run and get Bug in case she needs more skilled
medical care." The Dwarf jogged towards the hull to retrieve their surgeon, who
spent most of his time below deck working on papers. "Sneezy and Gus – we need
towels and blankets. We're got to get this girl warmed up. Get Snow to unlock
the hold for you. Red, if you can ask Granny to knock up something warm. Soup,
perhaps."
Emma looked around at the sailors she hadn't deployed to do tasks. "The rest of
you, keep the sails full of wind and the course true. I want to get the missing
Princess and go as quickly as possible, you understand." She received
affirmative nods, then leaned back out over the side to check the progress of
the rescue. The boat was almost at the driftwood which the pregnant girl had
been floating on now.
"Nova," the Captain spotted the girl, looking out of sorts in a ratty old
dress. We need to find her something a little more suitable, she thought to
herself, but turned her attention back to the current matter. "A word in my
cabin, please."
The girl almost tripped over herself. "Yes, Captain."
Emma descended the steps below the quarterdeck into her cabin, hearing the
unsteady and uncertain footsteps of the ex-whore following behind her. Once
they were encased in the familiar walls, Emma rounded on her, causing a gasp of
surprise to fall from Nova's lips.
"Please understand I have nothing against whores," Emma began. "But I do object
to having one aboard my ship. So a few ground rules. Firstly, I don't give a
damn about who you fuck as long as you don't charge them for the privilege.
Secondly, you will obey all direct orders myself, Snow, Charming or Red gives
you, as we are in command on this ship. Thirdly, in exchange for our feeding
and clothing you, you have to pull your weight on this ship. That means chores,
mostly, as I've been led to believe you have no experience with weapons.
Understood?"
"Yes, Captain." The poor girl was practically quaking in her boots and Emma
rolled her eyes. No guts at all. How did someone like her go into whoring? Emma
had known hundreds of whores in her time, had even worked in a brothel for a
year, and she'd never met one so terrified of authority.
"Glad we got that settled," Emma murmured to herself. "You may have to wait a
few hours for more suitable clothes, as our Quartermaster is currently
occupied, but as soon as she's available she'll sort you out."
"Thank you," Nova spoke, with a voice like a mouse. Her Captain couldn't even
bring herself to imagine her relationship with Grumpy. It was like chalk and
cheese.
"Captain!" Grumpy burst through her door. "The pregnant girl! She's awake!"
Emma followed him back out the door, eager to speak to her. Pregnancy in
Neverland was avoided at all costs, because nobody here ever aged, due to the
same immortality spell that was on The Bloody Blade and The Jolly Roger, and
which was responsible for Emma's very long lifespan of two hundred and seventy
five years.
If you got pregnant in Neverland, you had to send the baby into Evermore to be
sponsored by a family there. There were no children in Neverland, asides from
the Lost Boys, children who had found their way back here before they had grown
into adults and were colonised together on the west coast. That was where
Emma's son had been living, frozen as a five-year-old, for the past 255 years.
"Captain?" Grumpy questioned from beside her. Emma shook her head and returned
to reality, where the pregnant girl, still coughing and spluttering, was awake.
"She says that her name is Ella."
"Hey Ella," Emma crouched down by the girl's form, using a soft voice that was
seldom needed. "How are you feeling?"
"Cold and wet," the girl replied and Sneezy wrapped another blanket around her
already swaddled form. "Where am I?"
Emma smiled at her, reaching out to clasp a pale, damp hand. "You're on board
my ship, Ella. The Bloody Blade. My name's Captain Swan."
"Oh! I'm sorry to trouble you officer!" Ella scrambled up onto her knees, but
swayed in the air as though completely unbalanced. "I didn't mean to cause you
any bother –"
"Ella, Ella," Emma soothed her, pressing her back downwards so the girl didn't
strain herself. "We're not the navy. We're pirates."
Usually this announcement was followed by a gasp of fear, shock or horror.
Sometimes it was also followed by pleas to spare lives and offers of gold.
However, Ella merely sighed and closed her eyes, as though almost relieved.
This strange reaction was interrupted by Red pushing through the crowd, holding
a tankard. "Hot soup!" She said triumphantly, holding it aloft and nudging
several onlookers out of the way with her hips alone. Red uncorked the
concoction and held it to Ella's lips. The young girl drank it down greedily,
looking less pale and windswept with each gulp.
"How far along are you?" Doc asked from his position by Ella's side.
"Nearly all the way," Ella said, choking on the soup. Sneezy patted her back
carefully while she regained her breath. "Thank you… it's kind of hard to keep
track in Neverland." The young girl drained the last of the soup from the
tankard, still shivering. But her eyes became abruptly wide. "You won't leave
me back in Port Lost, will you?" Her frightened eyes searched each person, and
when none would meet her eyes, she wailed and bucked frantically.
Emma was alarmed. "Ella! Calm down!" She pinned her hands on each of the girl's
shoulders and pushed down hard. "Why do you want to stay with pirates rather
than go back to Port Lost?"
"The father!" Ella gasped out, still bucking hard against Emma's hands and
decorating her cheeks with tear stains. "He's the Navy admiral. He sent
assassins out after me. He'd rather kill me and his child than have it known
that he was unfaithful to his wife."
Sneezy helped Ella to sit up, carefully rubbing her shoulders to get the warmth
back into her. "That explains why she was so terrified we were from the navy."
Emma ran a hand through her long, golden locks. "We're going to be returning to
Evermore at some point, Ella, but I don't know how soon that'll be. You're
welcome to stay with us until we go back there."
"Thank you," she breathed, leaning back into the pirate rubbing the warmth into
her shoulders.
The Captain caught the eye of her Quartermaster and signalled to move away so
that they could talk. She weaved her way through the crowd on deck to a
deserted spot on the empty starboard. Snow joined her, leaning out, with her
eyes on the horizon. The sea always had a more indigo tint to it in Neverland
than it did in Evermore and it was beautiful to those who had yet to be
accustomed.
"What are we going to do with her?" Snow said quietly. "She'll just be a drain
on our resources."
Emma sighed. "I know, but we can't just leave her here to die. I want you to
clothe her and put her in the kitchen with Granny. She'll be useful enough
there."
"Aye, Captain," Snow saluted. "We're not too far from Port Lost and it's close
to nightfall. Charming wants to know who you're taking with you to search for
the Princess."
Emma deliberated; watching swirls of indigo silt permeate the ocean. Who to
take with her? The obvious choice was Red. She was a great tracker, attractive
– which helped when coercing information out of people and a feral fighter. But
who would be their third? A trio of women was asking for trouble so she needed
someone masculine; a typical broadsword-wielding hunk of testosterone that
could overpower the Princess should it be needed. Essentially – her father. And
it helped that both had lived in Neverland for long periods of time, so they
spoke the language well.
"Red and Charming," Emma stated to Snow. "Which means you'll be in sole command
of the Blade. Think you can handle it?"
"I'd be a piss-poor First Mate and Quartermaster if I couldn't, Captain," Snow
pointed out. "What are your orders in your absence?"
"Fucking hell," Emma sighed. "I haven't given up command as long as I've been
Captain of this ship... two centuries! Where do I begin?"
"Not entirely true," Snow pointed out. "You came down with green fever a couple
of decades back. Charming and Red shared command."
"Yeah, but I was always on board to veto them," Emma replied. "Okay, disguise
the ship so it's more merchant than pirate. That should keep the navy off your
back. Send out a small, trustworthy group each day for supplies, but nobody
that doesn't speak the language or is likely to be recognised in Port Lost. If
anybody gets cabin fever, get them scrubbing the decks for a few hours."
Snow absorbed it all, nodding as Emma went along. "Worst case scenarios?"
"I'll send Red back every other day while we're still in Port Lost to reassure
you. If we have to move further into Neverland, though I don't think we will,
I'll send a messenger bird in the same time period." Emma squinted out at the
horizon, trying to remember anything else that might be of importance. "I'm
going to ask Granny to be our temporary Boatswain whilst Charming's with me –
you're going to need somebody by your side that's fluent in the language. And
if Grumpy petitions to be allowed a cabin rather than a hammock now that's he's
shacked up with a female; stop him in his tracks."
Her piece said and done, Emma bestowed a short, perfunctory hug on her step-
mother. "Take care, Emma," Snow told her. "Look after my husband."
"Look after my ship!" Emma exclaimed in reply and they both laughed before the
Captain turned to walk away. She needed to make her final arrangements before
disembarking.
An hour or so later, Emma descended the gangplank from her beautiful ship to
the docks of Port Lost, Neverland. Despite having been away for half a decade,
it still felt oddly like home. That could have been because she had been
conceived here, or because technically she was a Princess of Neverland,
although illegitimate. But Emma chose to believe she called Neverland home it
was where she and Hook had started to become the most feared pirates in all the
lands.
"So where do we start looking?" Red asked, pulling a satchel of food over her
slim shoulders.
"A tavern?" Charming suggested, a hint of teasing in his voice. "Maybe a pint
or two of ale will inspire us."
Emma tried not to roll her eyes and failed. "Pull your cloak up, Charming. The
last thing we want is someone recognising you as King George's long lost son.
And we'll start with the most likely places – estates, guilds, even nunneries;
anywhere that might have taken in a runaway Princess." She spoke her
instructions in Nevic, the local language, silently telling the other two to
follow her example.
Mercifully her father followed her suggestion, and their search began. The
fortress that oversaw Port Lost was their first call. Red showed many of the
soldiers the drawing of the Princess, claiming to be searching for her 'missing
sister', whilst Emma and Charming wheedled their way into the kitchen with gold
coins and false claims of being missionaries from the capital of Neverland –
Anise. Their search there was fruitless. None of the maids or servants bore any
resemblance to the missing Princess, nor did any of the occupants of the rooms
Emma and Charming invaded with unconvincing spiels about religion.
However, when they returned to the gate, they found Red in a state of
frustrated excitement. "Two different soldiers recognised her, but neither
could remember where from." She reported. "But I think that means we were right
– the Princess is definitely here in Port Lost."
"So it would seem," Emma took the picture and studied it again, hard, though
she already knew every carefully stroked pencil line. "What we really need to
know is if she's still going by Regina."
"It's almost dark," Charming pointed out. "That little exercise with the
fortress took us most of the afternoon and the evening. We really need to find
a tavern and regroup. Shoot some ideas. That kind of thing."
"I agree," Red ran a hand through her hair. "All three of us are great at
finding people, but that's generally when we have a clearer idea about who
we're looking for. Let's reread that journal Cora gave you; it might give us
some ideas."
"A tavern it is," Emma smiled regretfully. She'd known this would take a great
deal of time, but she was here now. And she was impatient. It was past time to
bring that erstwhile little Princess Regina back home again. And Emma Swan was
going to take the greatest of pleasures in doing so.
===============================================================================
***** And Bound Her in Her Bones *****
Chapter Notes
     Authors Notes: Many millions of thanks to my beta reader
     youngmachines. Our favourite brunette is making a shining debut in
     this chapter!
     Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time does not belong to me, nor their
     characters or plots. The plot of this fanfiction belongs to
     shikabane-mai, and the artwork she drew can be found: post/
     46770603575/captain-emma-swan-and-her-former- bounty-mark
 
In the old days at home the Neverland had always begun to look a little dark
and threatening by bedtime. Then unexplored patches arose in it and spread,
black shadows moved about in them, the roar of the beasts of prey was quite
different now, and above all, you lost the certainty that you would win.
– Peter Pan, JM Barrie
 
The King's Feet was an unusual tavern. It had been named after James I of
Neverland, the current King George's father, who had died after only six years
on the throne when his feet had been severed by an Evermoran bastard Prince.
King James hadn't been a popular King, but he had established order in
Neverland – which was by no means an easy task. Rumour had it that his widowed
Queen Dulcina, 390 years old and still looked the same age as Emma (who, to be
fair, was pushing 280 herself), had kept the severed feet as a lucky charm.
It was a little eccentric to be sure, but what was a kingdom without lucky
severed extremities?
Emma pushed open the door of the tavern and stepped inside, relieved to feel
heat on her face and the low buzzing of public chatter in her ears. There was
very little in the world that could calm her spirits like a large tankard of
ale and the glowing atmosphere of a tavern.
"You and Charming get the drinks, I'll find us a room," Emma muttered in Red's
ear, seeing that the other girl nodded in agreement before making her way past
the bartender and into a passage underneath the stairwell. If memory served her
correctly…
She found the door same as always at the far end of the passage. With a grin,
Emma unlatched it and made her entrance as melodramatically as possible.
"Captain!" The man sitting behind the desk yelped as he jumped up, spilling ink
all over the paperwork that lay on his desk. "What the hell are you doing here?
It's got to have been…"
Emma smiled at her old friend. "Five years, Jefferson. And before you say
anything, you never visit me either."
"I don't live on a floating vessel," Jefferson pointed out. "Why are you back
in Neverland? Have you come to take back that son of yours? Stuck at five-
years-old forever was a cruel fate, even for you…"
"Enough," Emma snapped. "You may not owe me any respect, but if you want to do
business tonight you'll shut your mouth. And it's not your problem why I'm
here; I just need to rent two rooms."
Jefferson smiled that slightly unstable grin at her, removing a decadent
feather quill from his desk drawer and dipping it in his inkpot with a
flourish. "May I ask who will be staying in my good inn tonight, if it
doesn't offend you, Captain?"
"Firstly, I need your word that you won't disclose of our presence to the
King," Emma leant over the desk and into her old friend's personal space. She
dangled a small sack in front of his nose. "I'm willing to reimburse you for
that small service."
"Now I am curious about your company, tonight." Jefferson hooked the drawstring
of the sack around his pinkie finger and dropped it in the drawer.
"Emma Swan, Ruby Lucas and Prince David of Neverland, though I'd be happy for
you to leave out the formal bits and use his surname of Nolan instead." Emma
told him, ticking the three of them off on her fingers.
"Estranged son Prince David of Neverland?" Jefferson raised an eyebrow whilst
he scratched in their names in his log book, then fished back into his drawer,
picking out two large iron-cast keys. "Adjoining rooms on the second floor.
Dinner is at eight, breakfast at nine. Last call is at three am. And Captain?"
He added as she turned to exit his little office. "Try not to get into any more
bar fights. The last one set me back three months of trade."
"You say that like you haven't got a nest egg the size of King George's
castle."
Emma re-entered the common room of the tavern, spotting Red lounging with her
elbows on the bar counter whilst Charming perched awkwardly next to her on a
stool. Even after a good couple of centuries of pirating, he still became
uncomfortable in these sorts of places. Emma blamed it on being raised to
condemn taverns as purgatory incarnate and brothels as pure hell.
Red handed her a tankard of ale as the Captain settled herself at the bar.
"Keith here was just telling me about your old days here," the younger girl
teased.
"You mean when I was hiding from your father and trying to make my fortune."
Emma cocked her head towards Charming. "And I had to find the last place in the
world that anyone would look for an illegitimate Princess. Stripping in a
tavern seemed pretty ideal…" The blonde trailed off, rethinking her words in
her head. The last place in the world that anyone would look for a Princess…
Meanwhile, Charming had covered his face in shame. "You became a stripper to
hide from my father?" He demanded, whilst Red and Keith laughed raucously in
the background.
"The Princess," Emma said, reverting to seriousness. "Where is the last place
in the world anyone would look for a Princess who didn't want to be found?"
The other two stared back at her, perplexed at her reasoning. "You answered
that," Red replied, her brow furrowed. "A tavern."
Emma smiled wryly. "Somehow I get the feeling that our missing Princess Regina
was more desperate to hide herself away than I ever was. I had to protect my
identity," the blonde admitted. "Regina had to protect her innocence."
Red stared on at her uncomprehendingly, but a light had come forward in
Charming's eyes and he exhaled. "You think she's hiding in a brothel." The two
pirates looked at her admiringly but the barman, Keith, who'd been listening in
all this time, chuckled.
"Sweet reasoning," he commented. "But are you sure you don't just wanna get
laid?"
"Why can't both be true?" Emma asked him, cocking an eyebrow and holding out
her hipflask. "I'll take some rum to go, thanks."
The trio left the warmth of the King's Feet and meandered their way down the
streets of Port Lost. Emma took frequent pulls on her hipflask, trying to work
out which of the town's three brothels could be housing a missing Princess. One
reasonably off the beaten track, perhaps, she mused. But then again, if Regina
had managed to escape on a ship in a port in her homeland, the chances of her
being recognised in Neverland were pretty slim.
"So where do we start?" Red asked, breaching the question that was on all of
their minds. "And do we have to work our way round all the whores in Neverland
to check they're not the missing Princess? Because as fun as that would be…"
"I never said she was a whore," Emma pointed out. "I only said that she was
hiding in a brothel."
Red frowned at her. "How…?"
"When I was very young," Emma recounted, her boots hitting the pavement in a
constant rhythm. "I lived on Tortuga. I needed money to buy passage to
somewhere more respectable, so naturally the only place employing was Blue's,
the brothel in Tortuga. I didn't want to sell my body for money, so I was
employed to clean the place. It was grim, very grim, but paid well."
"But you didn't buy passage elsewhere, did you?" Charming asked, having
previously received a very short recounting of Emma's life between being
abandoned by her father and being found by him again.
"No. I met Baelfire, Hook's Quartermaster, before I'd saved up enough, fell in
love and got pregnant," Emma said shortly. "Ah, here we are." She stopped
underneath the stoop of the first brothel. "Now, this is what's going to
happen…"
To anyone watching the door in the brothel that night, the brunette woman that
entered looked very nervous and agitated, like a fish out of water. She
stiffened up in a short radius of anyone exposing more than half their total
skin and avoided eye contact at all costs. However, her red leather-clad body
was a strange contrast to her demeanour.
The girl found the woman in charge easily enough. She fidgeted in her pocket
before pulling out what looked to be a drawing. She showed it to the woman,
mumbling under her breath. However, the boss shook her head, denying the
nervous girl.
Less than five minutes after she had entered the establishment, Red came
bursting back out again through the door to find Emma and Charming, leaning
against the wall and sharing Emma's hipflask. "You can do it next time, Swan!"
The girl said, frustrated. "I don't know why you insisted that I had to twitch
every ten seconds..."
"It makes people less suspicious," Emma shrugged. "But fine… I just thought you
bore more of a familial resemblance to our missing Princess than me. Would you
honestly believe that we were sisters?" Emma held up the drawing of Regina
side-by-side to her face.
"No," Red admitted. "It's pretty doubtful. You've got fuck all going for you.
Even Charming looks more like her than you do."
"Thank you," Emma rolled her eyes, sarcasm permeating her tone of voice
strongly. "Second brothel, if you please."
Red tried the same trick again, more confident at acting nervously than before.
Same result. The missing Princess had never been seen at that establishment
either.
"Alright," Emma rubbed her hands together. "She has to be in this last one.
Red?"
"Sure you don't want to do it?" The younger girl said, cracking a smile.
"Your Nevic accent is better than mine," Emma pointed out, giving her a playful
shove towards the door.
She entered the third and final brothel, fake-twitching to create the
impression of nervousness. Approaching the woman in charge, Red pulled the
picture out of her front pocket. "Hello," she mumbled, pitching her voice a
little higher than usual. "I'm looking for my sister Regina; she's been missing
for about five years… this is her."
The woman took the drawing and studied it, a frown marring her already-lined
face. "She bears a bit of a resemblance to one of our cleaners. But her name
s'not Regina, it's Juno. Did your sister have a son?"
"Not when she ran away," Red replied, perplexed. If Emma's theory was correct
and Regina cleaned brothels, which in Red's opinion was too big a comedown for
any Princess, then the so-called Juno fit the bill perfectly. But a son would
be much harder to explain away.
"Well he's a ten-year-old lad," the woman handed her photo back. "So by my
reckoning, since your Regina's been missing five years, she canno' be my Juno."
"This is the last place I can look for her," Red admitted. "Can I make sure
your Juno isn't my Regina?"
"You're no' wasting my time if you wanna check," the woman told her with her
thick accent, shuffling off to the back room. "She'll be here in half an 'our."
"I'll wait," Red told the woman's retreating back, exiting the brothel quickly
before she could be swarmed. Emma was draining the last dregs of her hipflask
as Red joined the father and daughter duo. "Successful?" The Captain raised an
eyebrow at her Master Gunner.
"Sort of," Red leaned against the wall next to her. "They have a cleaner named
Juno, who apparently looks 'a bit like the drawing', but she has a ten-year-old
son."
"A ten-year-old son in Neverland?" Emma asked, just as Charming snorted in
laughter beside her.
"What?" Red demanded, looking intently at him to decipher what he thought was
so funny.
"The cleaner's name is Juno?" Charming asked, still sporting a grin. Red
nodded, mystified. "Regina means Queen, right? Very fitting name for a
Princess. Well, in myth, Juno was the Queen of the Gods."
He was met with disbelieving stares and shrugged at his companions. "I may not
be as smart as you, Emma, but I think you forget that I've been educated and
you haven't."
"Gee," Emma said, irony emanating thickly through her tone of voice. "I wonder
whose fault that was?"
"Enough," Red stopped the budding argument before it could even begin, holding
up her hands and situating herself between Emma and Charming. "Can you
two not kill each other until Juno gets here? And assuming she is the Princess,
which I still doubt, what do we do about the son?"
"Shit," their Captain muttered. "Queen Cora won't like an illegitimate son,
even though I highly doubt they're even related. It'll make her
unmarriageable."
"Can't we use him to get her to cooperate?" Charming asked, rubbing his index
finger absentmindedly over his chin scar.
"Unless our Princess is as dumb as an ox, she'll know we won't go through with
our threats," Emma pondered. "Unless you want to be the one to beat up a ten-
year-old."
Charming fell silent again, but Red perked up. "We could keep him," she
suggested. "Act like we're doing a big favour for the Princess by giving him a
job on board to protect him from Queen Cora and King Leopold. Hook has Hansel
and Gretel, so it's doable."
"But even so-" Emma began, but was abruptly cut off by her father's hand
against her mouth. About to shove him off and scream obscenities at him about
disrespect, she noticed a woman slowly approaching an entrance to the brothel;
her shuffling was being impeded by two buckets of soapy water swinging from her
back. Pinning Charming with her eyes, Emma made a very clear intercept gesture.
She could almost sense the exasperation in his sigh, demoted to the muscle man
once again, but her father did it well. Quick as a flash, he was in the path of
the approaching cleaner. He pinned her hands behind her back and the woman
screamed long and loud until he clamped a hand over her mouth. Emma felt an odd
sense of guilt at the treatment of the woman; all she had wanted was an escape
from a much older, greedy husband. She had even descended herself to cleaning a
brothel to avoid that fate.
The Captain made herself picture the many large sacks of gold coins she would
gain from this transaction.
Charming frogmarched the woman over to the wall, face pressed to the rough
bricks and hands still pinned to her back. There was a yelp and Charming
withdrew his hand, now decorated with a set of teeth marks.
"I don't have any money!" The woman spat in brusque Nevic, sounding more
vicious than afraid. "Get your filthy hands off me!"
"Tell us your name first," Emma growled in her ear.
"Juno," the woman bit out, struggling wildly against Charming, who was still
easily holding her down.
Emma shook her head, withdrawing from the victim of a fake mugging attack.
"Wrong answer," she muttered. "You know the fool proof way of discerning
someone's real identity? Turn her around."
Red and Charming looked baffled, but did as she asked. The hooded woman was
roughly manhandled to face Emma. The Captain reached for the cloth hood masking
the woman's face, pulling it down to her shoulders.
The woman underneath was beautiful, there was no doubt about that. In spite of
the greasy build up in her hair and the ratty, cheap quality of her clothes,
her natural features were striking. The wild and feral look in the woman's eyes
made Emma pause, but only for half a second. Then she clenched her fist and
ploughed it into the woman's soft middle. "Ouch!" The woman exclaimed, then
froze. She had cried out in Latin, the language of Evermore, rather than Nevic.
"Fool proof," Emma shook her head. "Everybody uses their first language when
taken by surprise."
"Nice trick," Red nodded. "But that still doesn't prove she's who we're looking
for!"
The trio, still ringing the woman to make sure she didn't escape, contemplated.
How could you tell the true identity of a woman if she wouldn't tell you
anything? Torture was out of the question. They could use magic, but that was
expensive and took time. Red had the idea of checking her palms to see how soft
they were, but after five years of labour, Emma was unsurprised to see
callouses.
Then Charming had his stroke of genius. "We are such idiots," he proclaimed,
before rolling up his left sleeve and making a short and effectual slice in his
forearm with his belt knife. Blood dripped out. Not normal, vivid red blood,
but blue blood. The blood of royalty. "Emma, what colour is your blood?"
"Purple," Emma replied, grinning fiercely and taking the knife to make a cut in
her own arm. Lilac blood oozed out. "Red and blue, combined. Who wants to cut
our friend?"
Red sighed, taking the knife from Emma. "I've got twice the amount of blood on
my hands than you two combined. I might as well add the blood of a Princess to
my record." She carefully rolled up the sleeve of the now-bucking woman, trying
desperately to twist her way out of Charming's grasp. Red held the skin of her
arm steady, and made a straight incision. The woman shrieked loudly; she was
bleeding electric blue blood.
"Well done, Charming." Emma clapped her father on the back. She leant forward
to whisper in their captor's ear. "I'm going to take you back where you belong,
Princess."
The woman's answering wail was devastating.
It being the middle of the night, Emma made the decision to head back to the
King's Feet for the evening rather than trek across town back to the ship.
However, Princess Regina did not go quietly. She shrieked and wailed,
attracting the attention of everyone around her. And even though nobody came to
her aid, it made Emma very uneasy. Eventually, at the end of her tether, Emma
unsheathed her sword and dealt Regina a quick blow to the head. Knocked
unconscious, she made much less of a racket.
Captain Swan led her crew through an alley leading to the back door; she wasn't
stupid enough to drag their captive through a crowded common room of drunks.
Miraculously, all four of them made it to their second floor rooms without
being questioned once.
Charming heaved the Princess from over his shoulder to flop on the bed in a
very undignified manner. "Well goodnight!" He slid out of the room quickly,
shutting and locking the door to the adjacent room behind him, leaving Red and
Emma alone with the Princess.
"What if she wakes up?" A bemused Red asked her Captain.
"That's why we're gonna tie her up." Emma waggled her eyebrows, unbuckling her
belt and removing its many attachments.
"This cannot end well," Red commented, rolling the Princess over on to her
stomach so she could bind her hands together. Emma wound her leather belt
around the Princess's wrists twice, buckling it and thus securing her. She sat
back against the headboard, admiring the result. "Something tells me you're not
looking so lustfully at the knot you just tied," her friend commented.
"Do me a favour, Red," Emma tossed her a leather pouch of silver coins. "And go
and get enough alcohol for us to see the night through. If Little Miss Princess
wakes up, I have a feeling we're gonna need it. And lock the door on your way
out, just in case."
The red leather-clad woman left gladly, trotting off downstairs to do as Emma
bid. The Captain she left behind rested on the bed alongside the unconscious
Princess, studying her captive. She was having trouble understanding the girl,
which was rare for Emma. The Captain didn't understand mathematical formulas or
Latin characters, but she'd always been able to read people and read the sea.
In her profession, they were two skillsets which came in handy very often.
But this Princess… she posed a definitive problem to Emma. What the hell could
have been so horrible about marrying a King that she'd escaped to clean a
brothel for a living? At least when Emma had done it, she'd had an end goal in
sight – to get the hell out of Tortuga. Princess Regina had no reason
whatsoever to want that life, she would've had everything she wanted married to
King Leopold of the Winterlands.
How had a Princess fallen this far from grace?
A low groan came from the mattress which Emma had thrown herself down on so
casually. Her still booted foot twitched, and then nudged the semi-conscious
Princess in the side. The girl whined and Emma grinned. She hadn't bothered to
do her sums but if Regina had run away at seventeen, which was five years ago…
Emma counted her fingers. That meant the girl was now twenty two, although
still in a seventeen-year-old's body. The Captain whistled. By God, she'd be
beautifully responsive. A virgin, too, as long as she hadn't been deflowered
during her time in Neverland. Oh, but then there was the son.
"Henry?" The other woman mumbled into the mattress, rolling over onto her back.
Then her memories seemed to come back, because she began to thrash against her
bonds. "Let me go you pigs! Bloody pirates, release me!"
Emma chuckled. "Sorry love. No can do."
The girl, in her thrashing, rolled all the way over to the side of the bed and
fell off with a thump. The Captain cocked an eyebrow at the place where she had
fallen. The Princess's actions so far begged the question… how in the hell did
she escape in the first place? First Regina had insulted her captors, had
wasted energy uselessly and was now trying to escape from a locked and
supervised room with both hands tied behind her back. Silly bitch.
Finally the Princess heaved her nicely formed behind off the floor and glared
at the blonde Captain. Emma leant against the headboard, legs spread open with
a hand tracing circles on her leather-clad thigh. The Princess flushed, in
anger or lust Emma couldn't tell. She fumbled with the handle of the door,
pushed it down…
"It's locked?" She asked in a high-pitched, incredulous voice.
"Are you so stupid to think I'd leave it open?" Emma asked condescendingly. "Or
are you just trying to lull me into a false sense of security?"
Regina sneered at her, but before she could snark back at the blonde, the door
clicked open and Red entered from the outside. "Watch the ale!" Emma yelled as
her Master Gunner ducked the Princess's weak punch and swerved around an
attempt to elbow her in the ribs. Captain Swan leapt off the end of the bed and
wrapped two long iron limbs around the Princess's concave belly. The girl
screamed loudly through the open door. "Help me!" She screeched. "Pirates!"
Emma cut off her words, kicking the door shut.
The Captain dumped her prize back on the bed and turned to Red. "Did you spill
any ale?" She demanded to know.
"Why do you doubt me?" Red enquired, handing Emma a full tankard.
"Beasts!" Regina yelled at them. "Kidnappers! Bitch!" The last insult she
directed towards Emma, with particular venom.
"Sorry, love," the blonde pirate shrugged. "Nobody here's gonna come running to
save you. I know the owner."
Red took a long gulp of ale. "Oh, just gag her already, Captain. I know you're
dying to."
Emma smirked, clambering her way back onto the bed and into the Princess's
personal space. The girl eyed her with that feral glint; it was unsettling in a
twenty two-year old. "You're the Captain?" She asked scathingly. It might have
been offensive if Emma didn't get those kinds of remarks all the time.
The blonde doffed her hat to the Princess. "Captain Emma Swan at your service,
milady."
Regina's eyes widened perceptibly and she opened her mouth as if to say
something, hesitated, then screamed even louder than before. It was gratifying
to know her name elicited such passion, but Emma's ears were beginning to ring
at the volume. "For the love of God… SHUT UP!" She yelled over the screaming
girl. Unwinding her sash from her middle, Emma stuffed the cloth she used to
clean her blades into Regina's mouth. The brunette made as if to spit it out,
but Emma tied her sash tightly around her mouth.
The Princess finally silenced, Emma reclined on the pillows once again. "Lock
the door again, Red," she mumbled sleepily. "We can't have Little Miss Princess
trying another escape in the middle of the night. I need my beauty sleep."
Regina made a sound that was somewhere between a snort and a giggle. Emma
ignored her.
She drifted off into fitful sleep, her last conscious memory of Red eyeing
their captive with unbridled suspicion.
"CAPTAIN!"
The roar of a panicked man came from near her ears. Way too near. Emma jumped
awake, separating her night terrors from reality instantly. The voice, though
more nervy and unhinged that Emma had heard it in many years, was unmistakeably
Charming's. The Captain grabbed her sword from where it lay on the nightstand
and rolled off the bed, still fully dressed from the night before.
Her father too, was clad in his leathers and had his sword drawn. Only Red,
still drowsy and curled up in an armchair, wore a nightshirt. "What's going
on?" She slurred, hopping around on one foot, trying to pull her breeches up
one leg.
"Nevic Navy alert," Charming alerted them warily. "They've got wind of us,
Emma. They know who I am and where we are, certainly. I don't know if they've
learnt of your true identity."
"They haven't," Emma told him brusquely. "And after two hundred and fifty
years, that's the way I'm keeping it. Where are they now?"
In answer, Charming gestured towards the window. The Captain carefully
approached it from the side, inching forward so she would not be seen from
outside. Below, at the door of the tavern, there was easily a whole crew of men
waiting like dogs around a rabbit hole.
"Mmm," came a mumbling from over in the corner. "Mmm, mmm!"
Emma waved a quick hand at their captive. "Somebody ungag her, please."
Red strode over to the Princess and having finally dressed correctly, withdrew
her dagger from her belt and cut through the sash in one quick slice. Regina
spat out Emma's blade-cleaning cloth in disgust. "Don't leave me for them to
find," she pleaded with them.
"I don't leave 50,000 gold pieces for my enemies to find." Emma said firmly.
Then paused. "Are you playing mind games now?"
"Better pirates than the filthy scum that pretends to run this land," Regina
spat. If she was faking her desire to go with them, then she was a bloody good
actress.
"Can we do this later?" Charming intervened desperately. "I don't know if
you've realised, but our blood enemies are on the fucking doorstep!"
"I'll do the sarcasm, thank you Charming." Emma cut across him. "They're
getting ready to invade the front, but they'll probably have the back covered
as well. Which means…"
Red smirked, showing a full set of razor sharp teeth. "This day is suddenly
looking a whole lot sunnier."
"Over the roof?" Regina squeaked, as Emma heaved her way through the trap door
leading to the top of the building.
Emma smirked. "What's the matter, Princess? Never been on top before?"
The snarl the captive girl gave her just elicited a smirk from the Captain.
Emma had a strong feeling that had she loosed Regina's hands, still bound by
her belt, she would have been boasting a hand print on her cheek. The girl had
fire… that was for sure.
"It's a pretty long jump," Red reported, returning to the chimney behind which
the other three were hiding. The roof was visible from down below and Emma had
decided that she couldn't take the risk of them being seen. Still, at least
they hadn't had to restrain the Princess whilst making their escape. Lugging a
bound and struggling woman with them might have been the difference between
being captured and going free.
Emma glanced over to the gap between the King's Feet inn roof and the one
neighbouring it. "Do you think we could make it?" She asked her Master Gunner.
"I know we can." Red emphasised the plural. "I don't know about her."
"You and Charming go first," Emma quickly decided. "Regina, you'll have to
watch how they jump and try to copy that. And remember, if you fall to your
death you're only worth a tenth of the gold you are alive."
"Thanks for that encouragement, Captain." Regina's voice rose in anger. "But
unlike certain people I have a responsibility to my son to –"
Emma clamped a hand over her mouth. "Shut up. Sound carries, you know."
Regina nodded once in acknowledgement and Emma released her hand, confident
that no further loud noises would be made from their captive. The blonde slowly
rose to her feet, still crouching so as to be hidden by the chimney and
gestured for Red to take the jump. Her wolfish friend took a long run up,
springing lightly off her feet and landing on the other side like a cat on all
fours.
"Show off." Charming commented, grumbling under his breath. His leap was much
less elegant, but functional all the same. His knees took the impact and he
crumpled, rolling over twice before getting back up on his feet.
"Let's get you over then, Princess." Emma sighed, giving Regina an encouraging
little pat on the behind as she got up to take her leap.
The girl whirled around, her eyes wild once more. "Don't touch me!" She hissed,
still keeping the volume of her voice down.
"Fuck, okay." Emma agreed, raising her hands in surrender. "Just get on with
it."
Drawing what seemed to be a very deep, nervous breath, the Princess began to
run at the edge of the roof. She bounded forward off the ledge, arms wind
milling as she shrieked against her will. Emma flinched at the high-pitched,
loud sound. If the Nevic Navy troops hadn't already realised what was going on,
she had maybe a minute to do her own jump. And it would be probably dangerous,
if any of them had a bow to hand.
Not looking to see if Regina had managed to reach the other side, Emma sprinted
towards the edge just as troops came bursting up through the trap door that led
to the roof. She took off, streamlining her body so she made herself less of a
target. Despite that precaution, an arrow sped past her, missing by inches and
another embedded itself in her calf. But it was all over in half a second.
Tucking her head into her abdomen, Emma slapped her palms on the ground as she
fell and rolled forward, getting straight back onto her feet. She turned her
head wildly, taking all of them in (her prize was still alive and intact, thank
God). "Let's go!" She ushered them onwards, clambering over a washing line. She
spared a glance back at the men chasing them and was alarmed to find them hot
on the trail.
"Shit!" She swore loudly, ignoring a prudish glare thrown her way by the
Princess. Emma had much worse habits than an excess of profanity. Two days ago,
for instance, she had decapitated a man. But she wouldn't be doing much more of
that unless she managed to find a rabbit hole for them to escape down.
Without any warning, Regina stopped abruptly. "Ouch!" She yelled, hopping on
one foot and clutching the aloft ankle. Even from where Emma was standing, she
could see the blood trickling from a large gash in her foot. Silly girl. She
could cost them all their freedom. And on that thought, Emma ducked under
Regina's suspended leg, ignoring her shocked expression and hefted the Princess
up onto her shoulder. "What are you-" She began, but was abruptly quietened by
the motion of Emma jogging underneath her.
"Whatever you do," the pirate Captain warned. "Do not throw up down my back."
"Noted," Regina groaned as she bounced up and down, balanced precariously on
Emma's slim shoulders. Charming and Red ran ahead, faster without the weight of
a young girl on their backs. And then, quite abruptly, the roof cut off. The
three of them were left staring down at the ground below (the Princess took in
their pursuers with alarmed eyes, facing the other way).
"Here," the Captain told her Master Gunner. "Take the Princess. Charming and I
will find another way off the roof."
Red did as she asked, carefully repositioning the captive girl on her own
shoulders. "Christ, she's not as light as she looks."
"I'm still conscious and bleeding!" Regina snapped, sounding for the first time
like the spoilt Princess that Emma had expected when she took the job. "And how
on Earth are we going get down from this rooftop if the Captain and her muscled
friend need to find another way out?"
Red smirked, despite Regina not being able to see her face. "We're gonna be
climbing, Princess. Unfortunately, the Captain and muscled friend aren't as,
well, wolf-like as I am." And with that, she hopped off the edge of the roof,
Regina's screams echoing as they plummeted. Emma chose not to watch, instead
searching for an escape route. No matter how many times Red executed her
'wolves always land on their feet' trick; it never failed to unnerve Emma. Some
mornings, she would be peacefully swimming while the ship was anchored for an
hour or so and Red would go plunging down into the water, having jumped
straight from the top of the main mast.
Pulling her attention back on the task at hand, Emma glanced at their pursuers.
Two rooftops away, they still looked angry. She and Charming had a minute tops
to re-join the others and get the hell back to the ship. Emma searched
desperately for a way out and desperation illuminated the only course she could
take. "The chimney!" She called to Charming, who looked like he was considering
taking the hard way down.
"Of course," he strode over to the very large funnel. Twice his breadth, it
would easily allow both of them to slide down. "Are there holds we can use to
climb down?" Emma searched the inside lip of the chimney and shook her head in
the negative. "We'll have to free-climb down together, back to back. If we try
and go solo… well, we'd be lucky to come out alive." Charming hoisted himself
up onto the top of the chimney. He and Emma linked their elbows, sandwiching
their backs together.
"Hang on!" Charming told her, before they began their descent. "Your calf!"
It was only now her father had pointed it out to her, with adrenaline rushing
through her veins, that Emma remembered the arrow which had hit her as she had
jumped over the rooftop. She made a quick examination of the wound and then,
gritting her teeth, yanked it out of her flesh. Now it wouldn't lodge in the
side of the chimney whilst they were making their descent.
"On three." Emma muttered, and then realised that their pursuers were only one
washing line vault away from catching them. "Three!" The father and daughter
duo dropped through the chimney entrance, walking themselves down the funnel as
fast as they dared. Emma tried to match the pressure of her Boatswain's back on
hers but it became increasingly difficult to concentrate with the haste of
their descent.
Something had to give and unfortunately, it was Emma's foot.
With a horrific screech of loose gravel and bricks, the duo plummeted down the
chimney towards the bottom. Emma scrabbled at the walls encompassing them as
they fell but only succeeded in bloodying her hands.
And then suddenly, Emma felt her whole body come into contact with the hard
stone floor of a smoky fire place. The crash reverberated through every tiny
part of her body and the wind was abruptly knocked from her. Her vision was
off-kilter, but the Captain staggered to her feet. "Charming." She murmured
groggily, holding out a hand for her father to take. The hand that grasped hers
did so weakly, but at least they were still both alive and conscious.
For the first time, Emma took in her surroundings. They appeared to be in some
kind of den of illicit activities. Not much was illegal in Neverland; between
carnivorous mermaids on the west coast and a community of preteens and
adolescents in the south-east, what passed for Nevic law enforcement had more
pressing issues. However, the little that was firmly outlawed seemed to be a
prominent presence here.
"I don't even want to know what's wrapped up in those white sheets." Charming
muttered, coming up behind her. "And last time I checked Nevic law, which
granted was a fair few centuries ago, keeping that much dark fairy dust in one
place isn't just illegal, but dangerous as hell."
"This place is as dangerous as hell." Emma decided. "Let's find the door and
get the hell out before our Navy friends find us in here and decide to arrest
us for more than just spontaneous disinheritance of the royal family."
Charming crossed the room, rattling the handles of the boarded-up doors.
"Actually, they want to arrest me because I looted half the royal coffers
before I ran away. They're just really pissed that I spontaneously disinherited
the family too."
Emma placed a foot on the jammed door for leverage and yanked hard on the
handle. "Whatever happened to blood is thicker than water?"
"Blood's messier." Charming admitted, taking a run up to the door and kicking
it hard. There was a sound of wood breaking and Emma shouldered the now-
splintered door open, assisting her father up for the second time in ten
minutes.
"Let's get out of here." She told him, jogging up the steps that the door had
concealed.
Mercifully, the door from the top of the staircase was neither locked, bolted
nor barricaded, so they made the final exit out into the sunlight once again
without difficulty. Emma shielded her eyes, searching the street for Red and
Princess Regina. The Navy were still marching the street in droves, but
thankfully such large crowds had formed that Emma and Charming were all but
invisible.
"Where are they?" The Captain hissed to her Boatswain as they slipped through
the crowds. Regina was unremarkable in her tattered clothes and lanky locks.
But usually Red could be spotted from a mile off, with long crimson strands in
her hair and scarlet clothing.
Charming, who had a good seven inches on Emma, craned his neck to see over the
crowds. "I see her," he sighed, relieved. "Let's get the hell back to the
ship."
"Agreed," Emma hustled him along with her hands, trying not to capture the eyes
of the Navy, who were incompetently scanning the crowd. Between them, the
father and daughter duo knew the Nevic streets well. They had both lived here
for a time and visits had once been more frequent; that was before the giants
stopped growing beans for easy travel and before the two of them stopped taking
crazy risks. Their intimate knowledge of the streets of Port Lost would be a
big asset here.
Finally, they reached Red, who had a firm grip on Regina's forearm. "Tell me
she didn't try to escape," Emma groaned. "And here I was, thinking that this
was going to be nice and smooth."
"Caught a glimpse of a boy in the crowd," Red shook her captive fiercely. "She
was sure he was her son."
Emma sighed. "We can discuss this son business when we're back on board," she
told Regina. "But the Navy could spot us any second and none of us want that to
happen…"
"On board," the Princess reiterated firmly.
"Lead the way, Red," Emma gestured, taking up the rear.
***** The Seas Be Ours *****
Chapter Summary
     Authors Notes: Many millions of thanks to my beta reader
     youngmachines. For those of you that have read Rick Riordan’s ‘Percy
     Jackson and the Olympians’ series, yes, I did nick the name of a
     location in this chapter from him. But as somebody famous once said,
     ‘you can’t have all work and no plagiarism’.
     Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time does not belong to me, nor their
     characters or plots. The plot of this fanfiction belongs to
     shikabane-mai, and the artwork she drew can be found: post/
     46770603575/captain-emma-swan-and-her-former- bounty-mark
“Families are messy. Immortal families are eternally messy. Sometimes the best
we can do is to remind each other that we're related for better or for
worse...and try to keep the maiming and killing to a minimum.” – The Sea of
Monsters, Rick Riordan
They were only ten minutes away from boarding the ship and getting the hell out
of Neverland when the Princess decided to make a break for it.
In hindsight, Emma supposed she should have seen it coming. Regina was twitchy
and she’d already tried to escape once. In addition, she’d been working in a
brothel for the last five years. The likelihood was she knew a lot about
fighting to run away, the oldest and noblest of pirate traditions. Emma herself
could remember scrubbing at stained floors, evading the stares of leering
drunkards and on occasion, having to punch and kick her way out of their grasp.
Still, what happened next was unexpected. The Princess angled her body towards
Charming’s, who was steering her firmly with a hand on her back. Before he had
time to question her, her hands were on his shoulders and her knee had shot up
between his legs to impact his groin… hard.
And then she was away, running hard along the dock as her captors stared after
her, momentarily nonplussed. “You stay with Charming,” Emma directed Red. “I’ll
go get our pretty, little Princess.”
The Captain took off after her quarry, enjoying the adrenaline burst that came
with the chase. She sprinted after the erstwhile Princess, feet pounding
rhythmically on the cement. It wasn’t a particularly well thought out escape
attempt, the dockside was almost deserted and most of the shops were closed.
What Regina had hoped to accomplish by running away now, Emma really had no
idea…
She tackled the girl easily enough, bringing her down to the floor with a
thump. Perhaps she had scraped and bruised royal tan skin, but the Captain
didn’t particularly care. This was what came of people who ran away from their
responsibilities. Not that Emma particularly condoned the choices that had been
made for Regina, but why couldn’t she accept them and live with them like
everybody else?
“Get off me!” Regina scrabbled at the blonde with her blunt nails. “You brute!”
“Right then, Princess,” Emma hoisted the wiggling, protesting Princess over her
shoulder once again. “If I have to carry you back on board my beautiful vessel,
then that’s what I’ll do.”
“I hate you.” It was said with a quiet, cold fury. Out of anybody else’s mouth,
Emma might have been a little concerned. But Regina was tiny, browbeaten by
life and in a hopelessly impossible situation. She wasn’t the kind of person to
lash out when backed into a corner. She was the kind who trembled and curled
herself up into the tightest ball possible.
Making sure Regina was secure on her shoulder, Emma began to trudge back to the
dock and her ship. Measures would have to be taken to ensure that she didn’t
try another escape until they were well away from Neverland; outside of the
magical boundary that encompassed the whole land. Red and Charming were waiting
for her; her father seemed to have recovered from the shock of being hit in the
crotch.
“She mustn’t have got very far,” Red commented, subtly admiring the curve of
Regina’s behind as it was presented over Emma’s shoulder.
“To the end of the dock, maybe,” Emma estimated, falling into step with the
other two as they made their way back towards The Bloody Blade. They took the
last distance easily, even ninety pounds of woman slumped over Captain Swan’s
shoulder.
“David!” Came a cry from the ship and Snow ran down the gangplank to greet
them. “Have you found her?”
“Affirmative,” Emma grinned at her step-mother. “We have her torso, too. Not
just her ass.”
“Why couldn’t I have been captured by someone whose mouth had been washed out
with soap?” Regina moaned. “Bloody pirates!”
They boarded the ship, Emma indicating Charming to draw up the gangplank while
she set Regina down, gripping her wrists so she couldn’t make yet another break
for it. “Red, if you could please take our esteemed guest down to the brig.
Snow, I need a word in my cabin.”
“What about my son, Captain?” Regina spat at her. “You can’t just leave him
here! He needs me!”
“He’s not really your son, Princess. And he has no place where you’re going.”
Emma sighed softly. This was going to be harsh, but it needed to be said. “That
boy lived a life without you once before. I’m sure he can manage it again.”
Red caught the keys that Snow threw her and nodded once to her Captain, taking
the Princess into her grasp and marching her below deck. Emma caught a glimpse
of Regina straining her neck for one last look at her hometown. The worst part
was that the blonde understood what it felt like to leave a son behind. But
better than anyone else, she knew that sometimes abandonment was the best fate.
Sure, it hurt like hell. Emma herself could testify to that. But sometimes it
was for the best - what kind of life would her own son have had growing up with
a pirate for a mother? The same applied to Regina’s son, whoever he was. The
Princess was going to marry a King and likely give him many spawn to one day
rule the Kingdoms of Winterlands and Springlands. An adopted son had no place
in that picture. Really, Emma was doing both of them a favour.
The Captain descended back down into her cabin for the first time in nearly two
days. It was just the way she had left it, which mercifully meant that no well-
meaning incompetents had attempted to clean it while she had been away. Emma
sat down on her luscious bedspread and patted the spot next to her for Snow to
sit down on.
“Report, please,” Emma asked, picking at her fingernails.
“Let’s see,” her step-mother contemplated. “I caught Grumpy and Nova together
on deck last night.”
“Where?” Emma asked, genuinely curious. She was reasonably certain that over
her century and a half of captaining the Bladeshe had found every feasible
place in which to fuck senselessly. It’d be a shame if Grumpy and his pet whore
had christened a totally new spot.
“Very traditional,” Snow smirked. “Against the wheel.”
“Oh, I wish people wouldn’t screw there,” Emma whined. “I have to steer that
bloody wheel. Anything else noteworthy?”
“No unexpected visits from the King accusing us of harbouring his estranged
son, no,” Snow smirked, knowing what Emma was really asking.
Emma flopped back onto the bed in relief. “That’s good news; but unfortunately
they know we’re in town.”
“What?” Snow exclaimed. “How?”
Her Captain recounted the story of their search for Regina, missing out on no
detail. She described her idea of a brothel, their brief stay at The King’s
Feet, the exhilarating chase across the rooftops and the Princess’s escape
attempts. By the end, Snow was hanging on to her every word, mouth open.
“But there’s something I haven’t told you.” Emma hesitated. “It’s about the
Princess.”
“What about her?” Snow asked, confused.
“There’s a reason her mother wants her back so badly, other than just maternal
affection, of course.” Emma said, slowly. “Princess Regina was engaged to be
married to King Leopold of Winterlands.”
Her Quartermaster’s eyes went from curious to upset in less time than it took
for Emma to draw her sword. Her posture slumped and she fell back on the bed,
her usual childlike energy evaporating from her skin. When she spoke, her voice
was soft and timid. “She’s going to marry daddy?”
Emma sat up on her heels, placing a tentative hand on Snow’s shoulder. “I know
this must be strange for you, Snow.” The Captain pursed her lips in
disapproval. “The Princess is a good twenty six years younger than you.”
Snow’s tone of voice turned contemptible. “My father’s fiancée is only twenty
two! That’s disgusting. He’sdisgusting.”
“I don’t really care if you avoid her.” Emma became business-like. “But don’t
tell her about your heritage. She may mention it to her husband-to-be and I’d
like to keep out of the way of royalty where I can.”
“Ironic,” Snow snorted. “You can’t keep out of the way of yourself.”
“I am not royal.” Emma bit back at her step-mother. “And get your head the hell
out of your ass. You’re two hundred and ninety seven years younger than my
father and I’m well over two centuries older than you. Did I ever care about
your age when you became mystep-mother?”
Snow shook her head, subdued at the reprimand.
“Then attempt to follow my example.” Emma snapped in a way that was clearly an
order. “And cut the hypocrisy.”
She left her Quarters with an ignited temper. Emma was a simple girl. She liked
rum, the sea and easy women. She hated having to fend off the emotional
indulgence of her father and step-mother. They were great warriors and fearsome
in command, but their combined greatest flaw was how openly they wore their
hearts on their sleeves.
The Captain had avoided that crap for a blissful few years, until Charming had
shown up. At least he had bucketful’s of testosterone, if not tact, and so
tended to stay out of her way in any personal capacity. It was only after he
married Snow the so-far unsuccessful attempts to become one small, happy family
unit became infuriatingly frequent.
Emma descended so far down into the ship that the light became as black as her
mood. Until finally, she propped open the door to the brig. It was dank and
musty down here, where the prisoners were kept. Having endured the occasional
unfortunate stint in here herself due to varying circumstances, Emma could
appreciate just how horrific the place was. The stink of stale excrement and
sea salt permeated the air. When you took a step, you could almost hear years
of dirt and decay crunch beneath your feet.
As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, Emma began to make out the profile of
their current prisoner, sitting hunched in the corner. If there was ever a
portrayal of how the world dumped on somebody’s shoulders would look, it was
Regina in that moment. The Captain felt her frustration melt away as she wound
her hands around the cold iron of the cell bars.
“Princess?” Her voice, usually so harsh and commanding, echoed softly through
the dead silence. There was no answer from the huddled shape in the corner, so
Emma tried again. “Princess? I’m going to give you free reign of the ship when
we set sail if you promise to behave.”
“I’d rather stay here, thank you.” Regina’s voice was muffled, but bore the
unmistakeable sound of somebody who’d been sobbing heavily.
Emma sighed through the bars. “You can’t stay in this brig. You’ll be very sick
within days. And as a Princess, you’re entitled to stay in my own Quarters.”
“I’m sure I’ll get very sick there, too.” Regina spat back. The little figure
in the corner unfurled itself, getting onto its feet. The small rays of
sunlight that passed over her face, although partially blocked by the bars on
the window, illuminated a very angry expression. “Do not act like you’re doing
me any favours, Captain Swan. You kidnapped me and separated me from my son in
order to take me back to my fiancé, may he rot in hell.” The volume of her
voice had steadily increased until she was shouting in Emma’s face. The
Princess rounded off her little speech by spitting at the Captain.
“If that is the way you want it to be.” Emma told her, dangerously softly.
The blonde turned on her heel and marched back up the stairs towards the deck
and the sunlight. She felt considerably better off for her talk with Regina.
Rude and infuriated captives were always so much easier to deal with than
gracious ones.
“Captain Swan!” Charming fell in step with her as she passed the galley,
holding a large hunk of sweet dough. “The crew want to know our bearing. Are we
sailing eastwards to Evermore?”
“North.” Emma decided, emerging into the sunlight of the deck and heading
towards the wheel. “I have an errand to run, first.” She breathed in deep,
preparing to let rip. “ALL HANDS TO THE DECK! PREPARE TO SET SAIL!”
Belle hurried along behind Emma and Charming as they mounted the stairs to the
Quarterdeck. “Captain!” But the blonde ignored her navigator, continuing to
yell her commands.
“HOIST SAIL! HAUL THE SHEETS!”
Belle tried again. “Captain!”
“SLACK WINDWARD BRACE AND SHEET!”
Finally, Belle put a hand on the Captain’s shoulder. “Captain Swan!” She yelled
loudly.
Emma whirled around to face the brunette. “What?” She said harshly, well aware
of the question which Belle was about to ask. The girl stepped in closer,
effectively cutting Charming out of the discussion.
“Why is our bearing due north?” She asked softly. “There is naught there
but...”
“Aye.” Emma affirmed for Belle. “The Sea of Monsters.” She had both hands on
the wheel, steering her ship out of Port Lost’s harbour and so missed the
horrified expression on the other woman’s face.
“The Sea of Monsters?” Belle squeaked, her voice cracking mid-sentence. “But,
Captain –“
“The rumours are untrue, you know.” Emma gripped the wood of the wheel more
tightly. “I know many a sailor that has returned intact from that place.”
“Is that true?” Belle asked tentatively. She clutched the maps she was holding
tighter to her chest, as if that would protect her from their eventual
destination. Emma contemplated her answer.
“I’ve survived the Sea of Monsters once before.” She eventually shared, just as
the ship broached open water. Belle, wide eyes open, was listening intently.
Emma bit her lip, before slowly beginning her story. “I was very young… just
turned twenty one or thereabouts. It must have been three years or less since I
joined Captain Hook’s crew. We were reckless and stupid in grief; I had lost my
baby and he had lost his true love…”
 
It was another cold night aboard the Jolly Roger. Emma’s hands felt frozen to
the rigging she held tightly in her palms, still coiling up the line for the
night. She and Hook were the only crew still on deck; the moonlight giving him
a long shadow over the wood. Emma glanced up at his proud figure once in a
while. It was strong and sturdy, exactly the kind of man to captain a ship as
fine as this.
She tied off the line, rubbing her chafed palms together. The sea breeze
soothed the sores until her hands were numb and she could no longer feel them.
Emma wandered over the creaking wooden floors. She mounted the steps (where she
and Bae had last made love). She drew a hand down the mast (where Bae had
taught her east from west and north from south). Finally, Emma approached the
Captain at the wheel (where Bae had first told her that he loved her and their
child).
“Trouble sleeping, Swan?” He asked he, eyes still firmly pinpointed on some
unidentifiable spot at the horizon.
“No more’n usual, Captain.” She told him, thick untamed Tortugan accent clearly
showing her roots.
Hook spared a rare glance at her. Emma knew that she did not present the pretty
picture she once had. Her long blonde hair was threatening to escape her pirate
hat. Her skin, which had glowed during pregnancy, was calloused and scarred
from self-inflicted workload. Her green eyes, which had sparkled with happiness
when she was with Bae and her baby, were dull.
Her Captain sighed. “Swan. When was the last time you slept through the night?”
“When was the last time you did?” She challenged him right back, twisting a
stray blonde curl around her finger and tucking it back underneath her hat.
Hook contemplated her for a long second. He opened his mouth, maybe to tell her
the truth, maybe to tell her to fuck off and do something useful. Emma would
never know.
BANG!
Suddenly the whole ship shuddered beneath them. The blonde lurched forward in
terror, knocking into Hook who grabbed her shoulder with his good left hand.
“What the hell?” He shouted to nobody in particular, but obviously expected an
answer.
Emma pointed a shaking hand towards the figurehead of the ship. A long, green
appendage had curled itself around the stone mermaid. It visibly tightened and
then with a shockingly loud snap; the mermaid’s head broke off and sank into
the depths below.
“Shit.” Hook muttered, his eyes fixated on the place where the mermaid head had
once been.
The two of them couldn’t move, frozen to the spot. Hook had known what he was
doing when he sailed into the Sea of Monsters. Emma had had a reasonably good
idea of what she was doing when she went with him.
The crew began to emerge on to the deck, spilling out of doors and cabins.
There was another loud BOOM from beneath the ship. And then, all of a sudden,
the very wooden floorboards beneath their feet began to tremble. The hand that
was clutched on Emma’s shoulder, Hook’s only hand, tightened and drew her into
his body. Normally she would have protested, but now she understood. There was
security in feeling another person pressed up against you. It was the kind of
security that wouldn’t protect your body, but protect your terrified mind.
There was the splintering sound of wood splitting apart beneath their feet and
then the most terrifying thing happened. A green serpent’s head appeared above
the ruined figurehead. It was chewing heartily on the stone mermaid head and
Emma was honestly trembling in Hook’s arms.
“What the hell is that?” She whispered.
If it was possible, her Captain’s forearm tightened further around her
shoulders. “Sea serpent.” He growled. He didn’t sound quite as afraid as she
did. But Hook was irrational and a risk-taker; he saw life-threatening
situations differently to anybody else she’d ever met. It was almost like… like
they excited him.
“What do we do?” She asked him, in a hushed tone.
Then, almost out of nowhere, the thick green tail that had snapped their
figurehead wrapped itself around the deck of the ship. It crushed at least two
men, even before it began constricting itself. The head extended forwards to
snap up two pirates unlucky enough to be the closest. Finally, the ship gave
way and split almost down the middle under the pressure of the tail. The snake
continued to chomp its teeth on sailors, their blood oozing from its extremely
sharp fangs.
Emma watched the events with a dreadful horror on her face. The ship was more
or less wrecked and would soon sink. Pirates were dying left, right and centre.
The blood that ran through her veins was no longer delivering oxygen, but
panic.
“This is what we do.” Hook told her, a low tremor in his voice finally showing
his own fear. He tucked her right arm around his waist and then began to run
towards the back-end of the ship, forcing her along with him. He gave her a
boost using his shoulder, then clambered up onto the railings himself. “Jump!”
He ordered in a tone that left no room for arguments. Emma didn’t even
hesitate. She pushed off with her feet and dived into the water with a loud
splash.
Kicking out desperately, she began to swim in God knew which direction,
following the sodden man in leather ahead of her.
 
Emma finished recounting her story, lost in the past. “We were at sea for what
felt like days before we stumbled ashore some tiny island. We were the only two
survivors.”
“How did you escape the Sea of Monsters… in the end?” Red asked in a hushed
tone. Her Captain started and looked around at the small audience that had
formed. Belle, Red, Grumpy, Snow, Granny and Charming at the wheel had all been
listening intently to her story.
Captain Swan smirked. “After a day or so of drinking coconut milk, we swam back
to the wreckage. By some kind of miracle, one of the dinghies had survived
mostly intact. Hook and I salvaged the supplies we could and then we rowed that
little boat all the way to Neverland.” Emma chuckled. “He named it the Jolly
Roger and made himself Captain. I was the Quartermaster.”
Grumpy voiced the question that was everyone’s mind. “How did the Jolly Roger
go from a dinghy to a pirate’s ship?”
“When we eventually left Neverland again,” Emma told them. “We stole some rich
merchant’s ship and left the dinghy in its place. Swapped the names too. Our
faithful little boat became the Red Gem and the big, buff ship was renamed
theJolly Roger.”
Snow looked hesitantly to her Captain. “Is the Sea Serpent the worse creature
in the Sea of Monsters?”
Emma laughed, long and loud and hearty. “Not even close. There’s the Hydra,
Charbydis… we can’t forget the Sirens of course. And then… there’s the Kraken.”
Charming and Belle both betrayed their faith by muttering a quick prayer to the
Gods. Grumpy looked alarmed; Granny and Red wary. Snow had gone a faint shade
of green.
Belle opened her mouth, but only a squeak came out. She tried again. “The… the
Kraken?”
Emma smiled wearily at her navigator and the rest of her audience. “You don’t
need to worry. The Kraken hasn’t been seen since the split of Nevermore. It’s
only a theory. For all we know, the Kraken could be dead.”
The storytelling had left the Captain feeling unusually tired. She promised her
father that she’d be up to overtake the steering once she had just had a few
moments… of deep… restful… slumber…
 
A bugle sounded in the distance.
It felt like it was a long way away. The blonde with mussed bed-head hair
certainly thought so. And the knocking and the banging. That too… at least a
few miles. The yells of ‘CAPTAIN’ were closer. Emma closed her eyes dreamily
and rolled over…
Then her door burst open.
The bugle call was deafening. The yelling was piercing her ears and Emma would
do almost anything to make it stop…
“Captain!” Red shook her athletic frame, hard. “It’s the Princess. She’s
escaping.”
Suddenly Captain Swan was wide awake and she bound out of bed, pulling her
breeches on and demanding an explanation from her Master Gunner at the same
time. She buttoned them as the girl talked frantically, trying to explain
herself. “Charming was at the wheel and Grumpy was on deck – a few sheets to
the wind, you know how he gets – and they were the only two awake. And then
there was this sound… Grumpy said a rat but Charming was positive it was some
kind of bird – which is plain ridiculous. I mean, we’re well at sea now…”
Emma was at the door, wrenching it open to jog up to the deck. “Cut to the
chase, Red!”
The girl shook herself, trying to snap back into focus. “Before they knew what
was happening a dinghy hit the water and Regina was on those oars like she’d
had some fairy dust injection, bloody hell…”
The Captain raced over to where a crowd had formed, staring at the dinghy which
was making a quick getaway in the opposite direction. “ANCHOR!” Emma yelled
loudly as she parted the crowd. “The Blade doesn’t move another inch until the
Princess is back on board… UNDERSTAND?” She roared.
“YES, CAPTAIN!” Came the crew affirmative. Emma stripped off the breeches that
she’d only just put on, leaving herself in nothing but a flimsy nightshirt and
boots.
“Red, strip off.” Emma ordered. “You’re my fastest swimmer.”
The Master Gunner’s eyes widened perceptibly. “You want us to swim to that
boat… in this cold?”
In answer, the blonde toed off her boots and indicated her subordinate to do
the same. “I will need a line, please, Grumpy?” Emma asked the pirate, clocking
his lecherous gaze at the parts of her body which were newly uncovered. “And
Charming… I’m going to need a leg up.”
Her father gave her a boost to the top of the railings, and after winding a
line securely around her waist and looping it off with a knot, Emma plunged
into the freezing water with a sleek dive that had been perfected in two
centuries of practice.
It was ice cold, the water. Even worse than it usually was when she took her
morning swim. Emma could feel her breath rattling in her lungs and even as she
struck out in fast, efficient strokes, the ice permeated her skin. Having pre-
judged the distance from the Quarterdeck to the dinghy, the Captain set a pace
that she knew she could keep without difficulty.
From what she could see in the water, the Princess’s strength was already
waning. Yes, she had scrubbed dirty floors for five years. But she had no
stamina; it was only a matter of time before Emma caught up to her. The woman
could hear her fellow pirate’s long inhales and exhales just behind her. Red
had supernatural strength and loved the water, the former giving her just a
little bit of an edge over the Captain speed-wise. But Emma was the champion
when it came to endurance and it appeared like Red was allowing her to set a
reasonable pace.
There were cheers and woops from the ship like this was a race. Emma supposed
that that was what had tipped Regina off that somebody was on her track,
because there was a muffled scream from the boat and the sound of oars working
even faster. The blonde cursed… she was a good endurance swimmer but even she
couldn’t stay in icy water this long in nothing but a nightshirt.
“C’mon Red,” she growled, striking out even harder. Her strokes were long, fast
and furious and within what seemed like moments, she touched the end of the
dinghy. Emma gripped the sides with her fists and hoisted herself up but was
met with a sharp hit on the head with an oar. Taken by surprise, she slid away
from the wood and slipped into the water.
An iron-strong forearm clamped around her middle and forced her to resurface.
Red had caught up to her. “Captain? Are you okay?”
“Woozy,” Emma admitted. “I’m going to need another boost, but it’s got to be a
fast one.”
Red nodded. The blonde placed her foot in a calloused hand, and fought off the
slight nausea her bash to the head had induced. Then she bent her knee and
pushed off, launching herself over the side of the boat. Emma collided with the
Princess with a wet smack sound, knocking her to the floor of the little boat
with a thud.
Within seconds, the Captain was once again under a barrage of blows from a
wooden oar. Puzzled, she tried to fend them off with her hands. If Regina was
on the floor… then who in the hell was hitting her so fiercely?
She peered up at the figure, not quite making them out. Then, they made further
questions quite unnecessary by punctuating each hit of the oar with a word.
“Leave. My. Mother. The. Hell. Alone.”
Emma wrenched the oar out of his hands and swept a foot around his body to slam
his calves… causing him to topple to the floor. She was on him in a second, the
wooden handle of the oar to his throat and partially blocking his airway.
“You’re Regina’s son?” She asked curiously, running her eyes over his face.
There was definitely no resemblance to the captive there, not that Emma was
expecting to see anyway. There was no way Regina could have birthed this ten-
year-old after being away only five years. Besides, in Neverland you never grew
up. Who knew how long this boy had been ten-years-old for?
The boy didn’t answer her question, so Emma jiggled the rigid wooden handle
against his throat. He gasped. “Yes! Yes, I am.”
Emma narrowed her eyes curiously. “What’s your name?”
“Henry,” the young boy spat back defiantly.
The Captain narrowed her eyes down at him, but before she could ask any more
questions, a heavy body landed on her back and fists beat down on her head.
Emma shrieked in surprise, but the beating was short-lived. The creaky little
fisherman’s boat was unbalanced and with a final groan... it capsized.
The blonde was once again submerged in ice cold water but she clawed her way
back to the surface quickly. Red had Henry in her grasp and was clutching the
upturned boat for floatation and Regina was making slow, but steady progress
back toward her son. Huh; somebody had evidently had enough time to teach her
how to swim before letting her marry a King.
Almost instinctually, Emma held out a hand to pull Regina in the rest of the
way, but the Princess ignored her, finishing the last leg all by herself.
“What now?” Red asked, still clutching a fidgeting Henry.
“We row back…” Emma trailed off distastefully, eyeing the distance between her
beautiful ship and the slightly splintered dinghy.
Red groaned.
***** And By the Powers *****
Chapter Notes
     Authors Notes: Many millions of thanks to my beta reader
     youngmachines.
     Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time does not belong to me, nor their
     characters or plots. The plot of this fanfiction belongs to
     shikabane-mai, and the artwork she drew can be found: post/
     46770603575/captain-emma-swan-and-her-former- bounty-mark
 
“If you gave someone your heart and they died, did they take it with them? Did
you spend the rest of forever with a hole inside you that couldn't be
filled?” -Jodi Picoult
 
There was a strange kind of foreboding in Emma Swan’s blood when she hoisted
little Henry back on to the deck of her ship.
This was exactly the kind of situation she had wished to avoid when she had
made the decision to leave Regina’s adopted son behind in Neverland. Regardless
of the reasons she had given Regina, Emma couldn’t deny the empathy that had
coloured the choice. She too, had had to give up a son for his own good. Even
if the Princess thought it was some personal sadism, Emma knew she had saved
the young girl a heart-breaking goodbye.
And now, displaying greater loyalty to his adoptive mother than the Captain
could have ever imagined, Henry was on board her ship. And with the Nevic Navy
likely hot on their trail, there was no way she could send him back to
Neverland. No, the deed was done. He would have to accompany them, even if
there was no question of him leaving the Blade with Regina. Perhaps she could
train him up to be a cabin boy, Emma mused.
Slim and pale hands wrapped themselves around the boy’s wrists and hauled him
to his feet with surprising strength. Emma’s step-mother wrapped a ragged old
blanket around his form and rubbed it frantically, almost trying to shake the
cold from his bones. The Captain herself turned to see Granny laden with
special spiced tea, plying it on both her and Red. She drank it gratefully and
it burned its way through her.
But Emma had a job to do that not even spiced tea would distract her from. She
grabbed the Princess’s arm and marched her towards her Quarters. Regina was so
out of it, Emma doubted she would put up much resistance even if she tried to
push her back overboard. They made it into Emma’s cabin, where the Captain sat
her captive firmly down on the bed. She ignored Regina’s sodden dress. It was
ragged and filthy anyway; she wouldn’t let a cat have kittens on it.
Emma had never been particularly good at size appraisal, but as she ran her
eyes up and down the Princess’s tiny form, she reflected that this one wouldn’t
be particularly difficult. Regina, obviously not very tall to start with, was
dangerously skinny and years of being browbeaten (physically and mentally) gave
her a hunched posture.
The Captain unlocked the door to the room adjoining her bedchamber. It was in
here that she kept the goods from her many merchant ship loots, so naturally it
was extremely cluttered. Emma picked her way over a barrel of foreign spirits,
a mace and preserved boar head before reaching a long rail of finely
embroidered dresses and richly decorated tunics. They were useful for
disguises, and even rare occasions when Emma had bargained and dealt with
royalty… but they were mostly used for these situations – honoured guests… or
captives.
The blonde grabbed two or three smaller-looking dresses at random and
extricated herself from the loot chamber with difficulty, re-locking the door
again firmly behind her. Regina hadn’t moved an inch from where Emma had sat
her down, eyes unfocused and shivering.
“Regina.” The Captain clasped her chin with her fingers and locking eyes with
her. “You in there?” The Princess nodded slightly, although her expression
remained vacant. “Take a dress and go change behind my screen… okay?”
When Regina didn’t move, Emma pressed the material into her hands. She guided
the Princess to her feet slowly, making sure that she was balanced and unlikely
to fall on her face. Then gently, she walked her captive over to the screen,
rubbing her arms to get the warmth back into her. “Princess,” she said softly.
“You’ll feel better when you’re warm, but first you need to strip out of your
wet clothes.”
Still nothing. Ah well, Emma thought. It wasn’t like it would be the first
naked female form she’d ever seen. And it certainly wouldn’t be the last. She
moved her hands to Regina’s shoulders and slid the worn fabric down and over
her biceps… which was as far as she got before a hand slapped over hers to stop
her.
“I can take it from here, Captain Swan.” The Princess informed her haughtily,
obviously having regained control of her mental faculties. Emma nodded once in
acknowledgement and stepped out from behind the screen, settling herself back
down on her bedspread. She waited in anticipation, keen to see what the
Princess’s body would look like without the rags. Granted, she already had an
idea, considering how well the soaking garment had clung to her… but it would
be nice to get confirmation.
While she waited, the blonde pulled on her own breeches, suddenly becoming
conscious that all this time she had been wandering around in a translucent
white shirt. Her leg twinged in pain as she pulled up the cloth and she
examined her arrow wound for the first time since making her escape from the
rooftop. It looked raw, probably due to the salt water. Emma rummaged around in
her drawer until she found a linen bandage. She began to wrap it around her
leg.
A little cough made her twist around as she tied the dry linen into a knot and
she sucked in a gasp. Regina was beautiful. The blood-coloured scarlet of the
bodice ended the impression of a victim that the Princess seemed to give off
naturally, instead making her seem more domineering. The dress wasn’t so low
cut to be scandalous, but still allowed freedom of movement while showing off
her rather, well… glorious assets. She was almost as close to perfection as a
woman could get, aside from the hollowness of her cheeks and the concave curve
of her belly. It was painfully clear that Regina was malnourished, and likely
her son too.
“Captain.” Regina said warningly and Emma noticed that perhaps she had been
staring a little too long.
“Right,” Emma began, getting up from the bedspread. “Well, let’s find somebody
to take care of you –“ Her words trailed off as she realised that most of the
Princess’s back was unlaced. “Want some help?” She asked sympathetically.
Regina gave a very ladylike snort. “I doubt you’ve ever worn, much less laced,
a dress in your life, Emma Swan.”
“Actually,” Emma corrected her, as she drew the Princess back until she had a
good angle. “I think this was the one I wore when your father was born.”
“What?” Regina said sharply, almost pulling away until Emma tugged her back
into position. “How could you possibly…?”
“Immortality, love.” Emma leaned forward to murmur in her captive’s ear. “Your
grandfather, who would be… ah, yes. King Xavier I of Springlands. He wanted to
christen his son with an ancient family artefact, which his forefathers had
misplaced. King Xavier was a smart man… he came to me rather than some academic
fool with an ego the size of this ship. Needless to say, I found the artefact,
presented it to the court and your father, King Henry I of Springlands, was
christened with it.”
And with the conclusion of her story, Emma pulled the final string tight and
knotted it. “All done.”
Regina turned to face her, unable to hide the shocked eagerness on her face.
“You’re the one that found Spring’s Sceptre? My father always told me it was a
brave and noble adventurer, willing to die for his King and his Land to bring
back glory.”
“What bullshit!” Emma laughed. “Nah, your granddaddy Xavier knew which side his
bread was buttered, even if your daddy doesn’t. He got his Sceptre, I got one
hundred sacks of gold coins.”
Regina gaped at her like a fish. “But… but it was so romantic!”
Emma grinned back at her. “That should have been your first warning sign that
it was bullshit. Let’s find somebody to look after you.”
“I’m not staying here?” Regina asked tentatively, as she was marched towards
the door.
“Not a chance,” Emma laughed, not noticing the offended glint in the Princess’s
eye. “You’re way too difficult and I need a good night’s sleep.”
They emerged back on deck in the cool night’s air, noticing that it was much
less populated than it had been twenty minutes ago. Charming was at the wheel,
the ship moving through the water once again. Red and Granny were still about,
but the rest of the crew had disappeared.
“Snow took Henry below deck to look after.” Red answered Emma’s unspoken
question. “Everybody else is back in their bunk. And you want me to keep an eye
on the Princess.”
“Will you?” Emma asked, pleading.
“Of course,” Red said softly. “When was the last time you slept through the
night?”
“Before we docked in Tortuga,” The Captain admitted woefully.
“We’ll take the girl,” Granny reached out to Regina’s shoulder a tightened aged
knuckles over the skinny bones there. “And feed her up a bit too, while we’re
at it.” She added with a frown.
Emma nodded at her crewmates and descended back below the Quarterdeck into her
cabin, where she fell face-forward on to her bed and slept for what felt like
eternity…
Until…
CRASH!
The Captain jerked awake with instincts born of two centuries of pirating.
There was screaming but it was obviously distant.
“What the hell is going on now?” She asked nobody in particular. It was only
when she burst back on to the deck that she got her answer. Regina had knocked
over a pile of barrels in what seemed to be another escape attempt. Henry was
fighting tooth and nail, trying to escape from Snow, who held both hands behind
his back in a secure grip. Regina had needed more force to hold down; Grumpy
and Sneezy held on to a wrist each and Red gripped her waist tightly from
behind.
“What the hell is going on now?” Emma repeated her earlier question, directing
it towards her crew this time.
“I’m not sure,” Red admitted. “One moment everything was fine and then the
next, there was cargo everywhere and she and Henry were sprinting towards the
side of the ship.”
“Well they obviously didn’t get very far.” Emma rolled her eyes. “What were you
trying to achieve? There’s no land for miles and the water isn’t exactly warm
and sunshine-y…”
“I was just trying to get the hell away from you, Captain Swan!” Regina spat at
her viciously and Emma recoiled. It was the most raw and bitter kind of hatred
and though it had been directed at Emma many times before… she had only ever
expected resigned loathing from the delicate little Princess.
The blonde sighed. She had really hoped that it wouldn’t come to this. “I’m
done with your attitude, Princess. Charming!” She called out, not taking her
eyes off the pretty piece of ass in front of her. “Cuffs, please.”
Regina’s eyes widened in panic as Emma took the iron handcuffs from Charming.
Surprisingly gentle, she clicked one cuff around the Princess’s slim wrist.
Then shocking everybody present, she attached the other cuff to her own wrist,
effectively joining them together.
“So now,” Emma said, well-satisfied. “I get to keep an eye on you 24/7. Isn’t
that wonderful?”
“You can’t just…”
Unperturbed, the Captain stared down her new companion. “You need to learn the
rules on this ship very quickly, lass, or things won’t go your way. We are in
international waters… you know what that means?”
“I can stab you and I won’t be locked up?” Regina suggested, eyeing the knife
stuck through Emma’s sword belt.
“That too,” Emma showed her teeth in what resembled a smile. “It means that
since we have no King or Queen to rule, the job goes to the –“
“Princess?” Regina cocked an eyebrow. “Because I think that would be me.”
“Not the Princess,” Emma snapped back impatiently. “The elected Captain of the
vessel. Which means that effectively I am your Queen. Which means you do what I
say, or I take the appropriate actions and I throw you overboard.”
Regina smirked right back at her. “You won’t do that. I’m worth whatever ransom
my mother is going to pay you… 50,000 gold coins, was it?”
“Quartermaster!” Emma called out, her eyes never leaving Regina’s. “Do you
think the brig’s ready for another occupant so soon?”
“I can have it ship-shape by sundown, Captain!” Snow replied from just behind
Emma.
“Excellent.” Emma muttered, fishing her keys off her belt. She held up two for
Regina to look at, one new and made of brass, the other as old as the ship and
coated in rust. “Handcuffs.” Emma wiggled the brass key. “Brig.” She twirled
the rusty key between her thumb and forefinger. “Take your pick.”
Reluctantly, Regina reached out to brush a finger across the brass of the key
to the handcuffs. “I’d rather take my chances being restrained to a pig like
you, Captain.”
Emma smiled, almost gleefully. “Alrighty then.” She turned her back on her new
companion, catching Grumpy’s eye. “Time for a dip I think…”
“Aye, Captain.” He saluted. “C’mon boys! Lower the anchor!” The ship became a
flurry of sudden activity and the crowd that had formed around Emma and
Regina’s spat dispersed. Somewhat on autopilot, Emma raised her hands to
unbutton her shirt. The clanking of the handcuffs stopped her in her tracks.
“Shit.” She muttered to herself, ignoring the vindictive smirk that settled
itself on Regina’s lips. She wouldn’t be able to swim today, not while she was
chained to her captive. Curse her! Why did the Princess have to be so
difficult?
So instead of taking a relaxing, luxurious swim in the admittedly icy waters,
Emma was forced to watch as the other members of her crew stripped off and
dived into the waters below, some with more finesse than others. Snow seemed to
have taken responsibility for Regina’s son Henry and was teaching him how to
stay afloat.
 Emma wasn’t stupid. She knew that Charming and Snow had always wanted
children, but their childlessness was mostly down to her. But the raging
maternal instinct that the Captain saw in her step-mother’s eyes now tugged at
her heartstrings, or at least the few Emma had left. A large part of her
wondered if she could cope with her father having another child, this time with
his true love rather than a lowly seamstress. She put on the appearance of
indifference, but the little abandoned child within her sobbed constantly. Emma
knew in her heart that she would never ever be able to forgive Charming for
abandoning her.
She watched Snow now, her dark hair pulled back and joy shining in her eyes as
she held Henry’s middle in the deep blue water. The boy himself looked wary of
the surrounding pirates, but as time went on and Snow continued to encouraging
him to swim with her gentle instructions; his guarded look faded. As Emma
watched on, Charming swam over, exchanging words with Snow, his body language
open and friendly. Even though the Captain couldn’t hear what they were saying,
she could guess at something coated in familial love and affection.
“I’m hungry.” A voice at her side proclaimed. Regina. It hadn’t taken long to
forget the woman chained to her.
Emma sighed. This was going to take quite a bit of getting used to. “Let’s get
you down to the galley then.”
Granny seemed happy enough to see them, which perplexed Emma. The elderly woman
was a fantastic cook, but strict and sarcastic, even to her own granddaughter.
But the puzzle was solved when the entire kitchen table was laid with
fantastic-smelling dishes and platters. Granny winked at the Princess. “Eat up,
my dear.”
Emma grinned at her. “You could never resist an emaciated body to feed up.”
Her cook swatted her on the head with a wooden spoon as she passed to stir some
unidentifiable substance. “I’m still surprised that you could make a living as
a stripper. No man wants skin and bones to lust over!”
Regina, who had previously been picking listlessly at her food, started and
turned to the Captain. “You were a stripper?”
Emma grinned back at her, licking the top of a spoon. “I have dabbled in lots
of professions. Mostly the dishonest and illegal ones.”
The Princess raised an eyebrow. “Am I sharing my bread with an ex-whore?”
The Captain was unsurprised by the question. It’d been asked by various people
at various points in her life. Sometimes by foes, sometimes by friends,
sometimes by lovers. “No.” Emma shook her head. “I did do your old job for a
while, though.”
Regina choked on the water in her tankard in surprise. “You cleaned a brothel?”
“Yes.” Emma affirmed, cleaning the inside of her soup bowl out with a hunk of
sour dough which had gone almost untouched by Regina. “You said you were
hungry. Why aren’t you eating?” She tactfully diverted the subject from herself
before she started blubbing about her pregnancy and the bloody violence that
had followed.
The Princess bit her lip guiltily. “I lied. I just wanted to get off the deck.”
Granny clucked from behind them and clipped Regina’s head with her ladle. “Eat,
girl!”
Regina eyed Emma, and then pointedly looked over at Granny as if to say what
the hell is her problem?Emma shrugged back, and pointed at the soup which was
going cold in the Princess’s bowl, which could be translated as god only knows,
but best to eat up!
Emma watched as Regina reluctantly picked up her spoon. “So why’d you want to
get off deck?”
The Princess smiled ruefully. “When I realised that I was going to have to say
goodbye to Henry at the end of this voyage, it was like somebody had cut me
wide open. And that girl who was bonding with him, teaching him how to swim… it
was like she was massaging salt into the wound.”
The Captain hid an ironic smile from her captive. When Regina eventually
married King Leopold, it would make Snow and Henry brother and sister. But the
girl didn’t know that, Emma reminded herself. And she couldn’t know that.
Otherwise there was every chance that King Leopold might come looking for his
estranged bastard daughter. And that was a confrontation that Emma really
wanted to avoid.
“Why are you smiling?” Regina asked predictably.
“The girl who was teaching him how to swim…” Emma trailed off chuckling. “She’s
my mother. Step-mother, really.” She amended.
“But… but –“-” Regina stammered. “She looks younger than you!”
“I am about two hundred and thirty years older.” Emma agreed, just as the door
opened and Dopey entered. “Aha, Dopey! Take this and send Belle to the galley,
won’t you?” She thrust a hunk of sour dough into his hand and wheeled him back
around towards the door.
The Captain turned back to a still-gobsmacked Princess and rolled her eyes.
“Once you’ve been immortal long enough, you realise that age no longer has very
much bearing on things. The only exception being, of course, your reputation.”
Regina’s front teeth worried at her lower lip as she frowned at Emma, obviously
trying to understand immortality and its consequences. Deep down, the Captain
suspected that the Princess had already been thinking about it. But it was only
now that those thoughts turned from pensive to contemplative.
“Don’t you ever get lonely?” Regina asked finally.
Emma gave the question its due, and a moment of contemplation. Didshe get
lonely? “No.” Emma finally decided. “In the beginning it was strange… to leave
a place like your land, for instance. The Springlands. I don’t go there very
often, because it’s off the main trading route. Like I said before, I attended
your father’s christening in the dress you’re wearing now. For the next five
years after that, I ran a smuggling operation off the coast of the Autumnlands.
Then…” Emma strained her brow trying to remember. “Anyway, that doesn’t matter.
I didn’t return to the Springlands for another twenty five years… when I
received a wedding invitation from King Xavier, nonetheless.”
Regina gawped at her. “You were at my parent’s wedding.”
“Yes.” Emma ran her tongue along her lower lip, savouring the taste of sour
dough. “And Christ it was a bit of a shock. Sometimes you don’t realise exactly
how cut off you are. Anyway, your grandfather had a head a grey hair and his
son was no longer a tiny baby, but a handsome young man.”
Regina held her breath. “What other major family events were you present for?”
The Captain chuckled back. “Nothing creepy like your christening, don’t worry.
No, relations between us broke down after King Xavier died. He was a very
devious man, unlike your father. I sometimes wonder if Queen Cora was his
daughter, rather than the other way round. She’s cunning like he was. Forceful,
too. I bet she ruled your life when you were younger.”
The Princess swallowed silently. “Not just when I was younger.”
The galley door burst open, saving Emma from having to reply to the truths that
she’d already suspected. Belle rushed in, strewn hair and reddened cheeks from
her observation post in the Crow’s Nest. “Captain?” She enquired breathily.
 “Sit.” Emma told her, with her mouth full. “Eat.” She ladled some chicken
broth into a bowl and pushed it across the table towards her Navigator. The
girl looked perplexed, but to her credit, merely began spooning the liquid into
her mouth with gusto.
This little chat was long overdue. Emma had been meaning to talk with her
Navigator about her unwise relationship with the sly Mr Gold before now, but
had been preoccupied with missing Princesses and the like. She wouldn’t try to
discourage Belle, Emma decided. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t manipulate
the hell out of her.
“So when did you start fucking Gold?” Emma asked conversationally, and watched
in amusement as Belle choked on her soup and went a funny shade of magenta.
Regina gawped at her in outrage and the Captain ducked Granny’s attempt to tap
her on the head with her ladle.
Seemingly recovered from her unfortunate choking episode, Belle regained both
her dignity and her ability to speak. “You remember when I first joined your
crew Captain?”
“Fifty years ago.” Emma nodded. “Your father kicked you out for sleeping with
the wrong kind of man, so you stole most of his money.”
Belle sighed and closed her eyes, as though about to admit something she really
didn’t care to. “That man was Mr Gold.”
“Hell’s teeth!” Granny swore from behind her and Emma jumped in surprise. She’d
forgotten that the older woman was there.
This was a bit of a mess. She hadn’t intended to ask Belle to end their
relationship, but fifty years. That was even longer than the relationship
between her father and her step-mother, which she knew to be true love. Did
that mean that this too, was true love? Would Belle agree to help her if she
knew the endgame was the death of the man she knew as Mr Gold, but who in
reality was a vicious magical criminal by the name of Rumplestiltskin?
In all likelihood? No.
But Emma had to try.
“Belle.” She started carefully, aware of Regina sullenly at her side and a
seemingly inattentive Granny at her back. “I’m going to tell you a story, from
my past. It’s about Mr Gold. You see, once upon a time, his name wasn’t Mr
Gold…”
 
“This is a mistake.” The words of warning come from a woman Emma considers to
be almost a mother to her. “You didn’t know Rumplestiltskin like I did. You
don’t know what he’s capable of.”
The man who is tying the line firmly to port, turns to regard his mother with
an easy smile, which comes to his face so naturally. “Relax. My dad’s not gonna
hurt us.”
Emma watches him fondly, appreciating firm muscles as he turn back around and
bent over to continue working. Her left hand, callused from working hard since
she had turned eighteen, rests on her baby bump. Life was turning out better
than she had ever dreamed, back in that dreary life at the convent. An
abandoned child of Neverland, tragic but not unusual. Given to the nuns to be
raised. Escaped from the convent, only to be entrapped differently, cleaning a
brothel and saving up desperately to buy passage away from Tortuga.
But Baelfire has saved her from that life. Him… and their baby.
Emma doesn’t quite know what she is going to call the baby yet. What gender
it’s going to be. She hasn’t even envisaged what it was going to be like trying
to raise the child with pirates. She just knows that she is unconditionally and
unashamedly happy.
 
“Captain!” Regina snapped next to her. “If you could skip the rainbow and
dances part of your dreary tale, I think we’d all be grateful.”
Emma looked at her, an unimpressed eyebrow raised. “Since Little Miss Princess
demands it, we’ll skip the build up and go straight to the climax. Never a good
idea, believe you me.”
Regina flushed pink, but waved her hand for Emma to continue.
 
Emma has never felt so terrified in all of her life. Her baby, almost fully
grown inside of her, needs her protection. But she cannot give it to him. Not
with a maniacal wizard intent on revenge threatening to kill her, should Bae
not comply.
Sweet, handsome Bae. More sensitive than he let on, Emma know it’s killing him
as he led Rumplestiltskin towards the Jolly Roger. Towards Milah and Killian.
But Rumplestiltskin will kill Emma and her unborn child should he hesitate even
for a moment, so Bae continues towards the ship.
Emma wants to tell him to stop. To let her die. But she cannot condemn her
child and so she stays silent. And all too soon, they have reached the Jolly
Roger.
“Bae?” It’s Killian that sees them first on deck. An odd trio. Bae, miserable
and regretful. Rumplestiltskin, crazy and… almost excited. Emma herself, teary
and completely defenseless.
“Hey Captain.” Milah’s voice behind Killian is inappropriately sultry. “Want to
-" And then she falls silent. Emma tries to catch her eye, tears streaming down
her face, but Milah is firmly fixed on Rumplestiltskin.
He grins at her in a way that could almost be called unstable. “Sweetheart.” He
drawls mockingly. “It’s been too long. I see a pirate has managed to take your
heart?”
She noticeably trembles and when she speaks, her voice quivers. “What do you
want Rumple?”
The scaly hand on Emma’s shoulder clenches, a tingly sensation shoots through
her body and she doesn’t even have time to panic before there is a cramping
sensation in her belly, and it hurts so bad she doubles over…
“Emma!” She hears Bae yell but nobody is there as she sinks to the floor,
clutching her belly in pain. She registers a woman screaming, but the aching
pains in her belly come one after the next and it shouldn’t be this fast!
It’s unceremonious, the way she struggles out of her loose breeches but
Rumplestiltskin has cast a spell on her and her labour is far too fast and her
child will be born in mere minutes, if the stories she’s heard from other
mothers are anything to go by.
The screaming continues in the background and Emma’s own voice joins it as she
lies down weakly on the deck, totally naked from the waist down. Why is there
nobody here? She thinks as she closes her eyes, trying to block out the pain as
the cacophony of noise continues.
Slice. Thump. More Screaming. Crying. Father! Milah! Clashing of steel.
Giggling.
Then finally, a hand on her arm. “Emma. Hold on.” It is gone again, but that
brief moment with the father of her child helps her endure the next, and last,
contraction. There is more wailing, but this time distinctly belonging to a
baby rather than a grown human.
Emma is too weak to move but where is her baby? Had somebody delivered it? Is
it being held? “Baby.” She finally mutters weakly.
Then finally… there. In her arms. “It’s a boy, dearie.” Her son’s grandfather
giggles and she cannot bring herself to care because she is holding her son and
Emma finally opens her eyes and he isbeautiful…
“Why is he purple?” She asks vaguely and rhetorically, listening to the sound
of his cries with reverence.
“Blue and red.” Rumple murmurs, caressing her child’s angel face with his
dirty, cracked claws. Behind him, Bae stumbles into her view, still limited by
Emma being unable to move her head. Something feels wrong. Where are Milah and
Killian?
“Get away from her. Get away from my son.” Bae spits at his own father,
positioning himself in a fighting stance. Emma cannot understand. Why is he
rejecting the man he came so far to reconnect with?
Emma tries to roll her head to one side, to see where her Captain and his wife
are. Horror hits her like a bolt of electricity. Milah’s body is slumped on the
ship deck, obviously in a deeper kind of sleep. Killian, clutching his arm and
there’s something intrinsically wrong there… where the fuck is his hand? “No.”
Emma moans softly, but it is not denial but defeat in her voice.
Rumple, oddly uncaring and clinical, swipes her blood off her baby’s forehead.
It is purple and Emma cannot care enough to repeat her question as to why that
is. But to Rumplestiltskin, it is the only mystery left to be uncovered on this
ship.
“Royal and peasant blood combined.” Then slowly, gluttonously, Rumplestiltskin
licks her purple blood off his gnarled finger with the flattened tip of his
tongue.
Emma doesn’t care. She really doesn’t because her eyes are burning into Bae’s
and there is a little voice inside her that cannot help but say, this is all
your fault. She hates that voice, tries to crush it. But she cannot deny the
truths that it speaks. As unwanted as they are.
“Take your son.” A hoarse voice tells Rumplestiltskin from by her side. She
turns her gaze from her lover to see Killian, who has left Milah’s body and
come to guard over her. He has wrapped some sort of gauze around his bleeding
stump and the pain in his eyes in almostunbearablefor Emma to see. But it’s
clear who, other than Rumple, he blames. And Bae looks hunted but says nothing.
Such a free spirit. Emma knows he will protest the decision Killian has made
for him. But to her shock he says nothing. And all of a sudden, the new mother
feels an aching longing for the mother-figure that lies dead on the deck not
ten feet away… Milah promised she’d help deliver the baby. She promised to cut
the cord and think of names and love the baby.
Family. Emma gazes down to the mess between her legs and at her baby… purple
blood. Blue and red… peasant and royal combined. Her parents. One was royalty.
One like her, a commoner. The pirate feels a renewed longing for them in the
face of Milah’s death. She needed guidance from somebody who was already a
mother. Emma can’t bring up her son alone. Especially if Bae, the first person
she could ever truly call her own, is gone.
She speaks for the first time. “Take your grandson too.”
Bae looks shocked… nearly speechless. “Em – Emma! What about our family? He’s
our son! You want to give him to this…” he struggles to find a word despicable
enough to describe his father. “Monster!”
Emma looks down at the baby in her arms. Bald and hairless, she’s never
understood why babies are so beautiful. His eyes are blue for now, like all
newborns and he’s not special. But he’s Emma’s son, something that belongs only
to her and always will.
She nearly shoves him at Rumplestiltskin. “Take him!”
Rumplestiltskin giggles maniacally. “And why would you want to give your dear
baby boy away to me! I am but a humble murderer!”
Emma speaks slowly, piecing each word together until her sentences form some
illusion of logic. “I want to know why I have royal blood.”
“And in return… I receive your child!” Rumple claps his hands together
excitedly. “That seems a harsh bargain, mother of my grandchild.”
Emma pauses. “Also a favour.” She tells him wearily, stroking her son’s bald
scalp.
“Why?” Bae pleads with her.
The blonde mother smiles half-heartedly. All she wants is to go to sleep and
forget the last nine months. “What better life will he have on board a pirate’s
ship? You know what it feels like to be loved, Bae. To have parents. And I… I
have no idea. Our son needs a parent who knows how to take care of him, not
just to love him.”
Rumple nods, clearly impatient. “Yes, yes, dearie. You’ve screwed up your life
enough to want to give up your son all by yourself. Now let me…” He moves
closer to her, shimmering fingers brushing over her brow while he closes his
eyes in concentration. Emma tries not to retch at having the hands which had so
cruelly killed Milah on her skin.
The evil little imp whimpers in pleasure as his nails contract, digging into
her skin and the pirate flinches. “Ah,” he sighs, withdrawing.
“Well?” Bae demands, apparently even more eager than Emma to find out the true
identity of the woman he’d been bedding.
Rumplestiltskin gives her a calculating gaze, and then reaches tentative claws
down to take her son from her grasp. Unnervingly easy with the infant, Rumple
flashes her a grin. “Your dearest lover,” he emphasises the word. “Is the
daughter of Prince David of Neverland.”
 
Emma was startled out of her anecdote by a warm arm sliding around her waist.
Belle had moved from opposite her to next to her and was clearly fighting
tears… and guilt. “I am so sorry, Captain.” She apologised , sniffling. “For
your… losses.” Belle looked the most conflicted Emma had ever seen her. “Do you
want me to leave him? Because I’m not sure I -”
The Captain held up her hand before the Navigator could progress any further.
“I don’t need you to leave him. I need you to help me destroy him.”
***** Where We Will *****
Chapter Notes
     Warnings: (this chapter) – very strong references to rape; do not
     read if this is in any way a trigger.
     Authors Notes: Many millions of thanks to my beta reader
     youngmachines.
     Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time does not belong to me, nor their
     characters or plots. The plot of this fanfiction belongs to
     shikabane-mai, and the artwork she drew can be found: post/
     46770603575/captain-emma-swan-and-her-former- bounty-mark
“We hide behind that which brings us comfort from pain and sadness… or use it
to repel a truth too devastating to accept.”- Sunil Nayar & JaSheika James
 
There was a slight clickon deck as Emma flicked open her compass. Squinting to
see by only the light of the moon, she established that she was still sailing
due north and re-pocketed the device. Hesitating momentarily, the Captain
reached for the bottle on the floor. She wasn’t too used to having an audience
when she drank.
“How can you drink that?” Regina asked from her place, chained to the railings.
“When you must have seen what I have seen?”
Emma knew what she was referring to. Whores that drank themselves to death,
red-faced old men who pawed and drooled after downing whole bottles and puddles
of vomit to be cleaned from the floor, every single night. They were like
perfect drawings burned into Emma’s memory. And she didn’t appreciate them
being floated back to the surface by some stuck-up brat who thought she knew
what suffering was.
Solely for amusement, the Captain downed the remainder of the bottle in one
long gulp, then tossed the bottle over in the Princess’s direction where it
rolled over till it hit her feet. Regina kicked it away, a disgusted look on
her face. Emma chuckled. “You know, I think I have you more or less figured
out. Love is the most important thing in the world to you, right? That’s why
you were cleaning a brothel, so you could afford to keep your son. You also
tried numerous escape attempts, all so that your son wouldn’t have to be alone.
Your morals… well they’re important too, but they take second place to the boy…
Henry right?”
Regina nodded in acquiesce, maybe too curious about where Emma was going with
her little monologue to stop her in her tracks. Not that she really could,
considering that she was still chained to the railings.
“So you watch the people in Port Lost make all the wrong choices and a thousand
and one mistakes and you promise yourself you’ll never end up like that,
because living in oblivion means living without love.” Emma paused; the rum had
made her more loose-lipped than she’d intended. But Regina had already heard
her tragedy – losing her true love, her son and any remaining innocence in one
fell swoop.
“But what you don’t understand,” Emma continued hesitantly. “Is that when
you’re living without love regardless, oblivion is always a better option than
pain. That’s why I drink now; it lessens the pain I live with.”
She could feel Regina’s eyes on her, calculating and assessing as she steered
the ship forward. Perhaps she was comparing miserable experiences. Or maybe
just unnerved about how close to home Emma had hit. The truth was, Captain Swan
was a little perplexed herself at the similarities between this Princess and
herself at twenty years old.
When Regina spoke again, it took Emma off guard. “You’re not oblivious though,
are you Swan?”
“I’m not living without love entirely, darling.” Emma chortled. “It’s you I’m…
concerned about.”
The Princess started towards her, eyes flashing dangerously, but the chains
clanked and held her back. “I am not living without love! I have a son who I…
who I adore!”
Emma reached back into her pocket to grope for her compass, wanting to check
that they had still been sailing on the right course while she had been
distracted. “I’m not contesting that.” Emma said mildly, flipping the lid open.
Slightly more easterly than she would like and the Captain adjusted their
course accordingly. “But as you now realise, I know exactly what losing a son
feels like. All those morals, all the things you swore to yourself that you
would never do. Oblivion erases that entirely.”
There was a long lull in conversation then. Emma couldn’t tell if Regina was
genuinely contemplating her words or if she’d just fallen asleep. She refocused
her attention on the steering and checked the position of the moon. It was
late. Charming should be out to take over soon.
“Where’s Henry?” Regina asked quietly, startling the Captain a little. “Is he
with your-“-” here she made a face. “Step-mother?”
“Yes,” Emma replied absently. “She’s set up a cot next to her and Charming’s
bed.” Then the Captain caught a glimpse of their captive’s forlorn features.
“Don’t take it personally. It’s just common opinion that it would be best to
begin separation now and ease you away from one another, rather than doing it
all at once.”
Regina gave a rare, wry smile. “I’m to lose my son, Captain Swan. Where’s the
‘best’ in that?”
The Captain’s hands tightened around the wheel. “I meant best for him. You’re
fucked whichever way you slice it.” Her voice harshened over the expletive and
Emma felt hollow satisfaction as her captive flinched.
“I’m not.” Regina told her, the quaver in her voice sounding like she was
almost trying to convince herself. “I’m going to see my parents again. I’m
going to be queen and have my own children! My life will be perfect.”
Emma resisted the urge to chuckle at the Princess. “Then why the hell did you
run away the first time?”
“Wedding jitters,” she said, jaw thrust out, as if daring Emma to accuse her of
lying through her teeth. Emma narrowed her eyes at the Princess and prepared to
do just that. But the captive was saved by the sound of boots marching heavily
on the deck below.
“Charming!” Emma said in a parody of jubilation. “Come take over for me so I
can take our Princess down below…” She winked saucily at him.
Her father smiled at her gratefully and Emma internally cursed her step-mother
and Quartermaster to hell. Before Snow had married Charming, her father had
been a nice, insensitive kind of guy. She could give the orders she wanted to
and command him just like any other pirate in her crew. Now, the two of them
wanted to bond at every conceivable moment. The Captain wanted to scream at
him; tell him that sword fighting and drinking were bonding and that endless
talking about feelings was pointless. But then she’d just be giving them
exactly what they wanted.
So instead, she stepped aside to offer him the wheel and tugged the Princess
down below into her cabin.
“Release me!” Regina demanded as she was pulled down the stairs and shoved
through the door. “Captain Swan!” She said indignantly as she stumbled across
the threshold.
Emma shrugged. “Yell at me all you like. Demand what you want. Beg if you have
to. I’m just letting you experience what it’s like to be a prisoner.” She
landed her palms on the Princess’s abdomen and pushed hard so Regina toppled
onto her bed. The Captain crawled onto it and on top of her captive, the
handcuffs clinking loudly.
“Please no –“ Regina begged softly, cringing at her physical entrapment.
“Because this is what it’s going to be like.” Emma told her, breathing softly
on her face. “To exist for one man’s pleasure. To be worth nothing more than a
slave.” Later, the Captain would berate herself for not noticing how Regina’s
eyes had become glossy and her pupils dilated and how cold beads of sweat were
breaking out on her forehead, though it was a chilly night at sea.
But now, Emma continued to monologue and impart the one lesson she thought it
necessary for the Princess to learn before she gave her back to her mother and
fiancé. “But it won’t be just him. People will want you for your money, your
precious jewels, your…” Emma cast an appreciative look downwards at where their
bodies were sandwiched together. “Gorgeous body.”
“Stop…” Regina pleaded. “Please, not yet…”
Emma ignored her. Instead, she continued to preach. “Which is why you must
alwayscarry some sort of blade with you. A hidden sheath. Up your sleeve. In
your suspenders, for god’s sake.”
“What about our wedding night?” Regina was crying now. Emma pulled away from
her, frowning. What? “Please, my King… tradition calls…”
The Captain rolled off her quickly, but was stopped from getting off the bed by
the handcuffs. She fished for the key in her pocket and unlocked her cuff
quickly. Emma grabbed a cup from her nightstand and filled from a tankard of
god-knew-what. She jogged back over to the Princess and threw the contents of
the cup in her face to rouse her from whatever hallucination or flashback she
had been lost in.
Regina screamed. “NO!” Her hands clawed uselessly at thin air as she tried to
wriggle towards the headboard. The liquid had had no effect, other than making
her hair lank and dripping around her face.
 “Bugger,” Emma muttered. Her irrational actions, crawling on top of her with
booze on her breath, had likely prompted this break of sanity. Her guilty
conscience was making a rare appearance.
Afraid to put her hands on her and shake her out of it, Emma contemplated how
else she could break the flashback, for this was undoubtedly one. The Captain
thought she finally understood why Regina had run away from her mother and King
Leopold of Winterlands before their wedding. At some point during the
engagement, the dirty pig had probably gone to the Princess’s bedchambers and
done… this.
Emma’s epiphany was broken by a long, harrowing scream. Regina was sobbing,
twisting and writhing on her bed. “It hurts, oh it hurts!” She wailed, making
painful fists in the sheets. The Captain felt a burst of pure, uncontained rage
sour her body. She’d been a virgin, of course she had. That bastard.
Fuck this. She had to end this, now. Before it got worse. God forbid it got
worse.Emma clambered onto the mattress of her four-poster, wincing as she
touched Regina’s shoulders and the woman screamed even louder. “My King – no!
It hurts!” Emma shook her hard, biting her lip as Regina flopped around. Her
eyes were unfocused and she was no longer speaking coherently, only mumbling
nonsense.
Emma exhaled, most of the life going out of her body. Regina could not be
brought out of her flashback by any means other than her own. The Captain got
off the bed slowly, then pulled up a chair. She sat next to the prone body of
her captive and watched her jerk and twitch with hollow eyes.
The tears were still pouring down the Princess’s face. She was still dressed,
although Emma knew that where Regina was right now, that was probably
different. Indeed, her unchained left arm had been possessively crossed over
her breasts, like she was hiding them from somebody unworthy of the sight.
Emma had to swallow to discourage bile from rising in her throat. She had never
been so disgusted with a lone human being. Even when her father revealed why
he’d abandoned her and never come to find her, Emma had never felt this pure,
unfettered rage before.
And she, the only female pirate Captain on the seven seas, who understood and
had experienced the harrowing treatment towards women in Neverland and
Evermore; she was the one who was enabling the monster. Emma, by taking back
the Princess, was going to allow what she was seeing now to happen repeatedly.
This first time. The time King Leopold had taken her innocence. That was on
Cora, and the misery she had knowingly or unknowingly inflicted on her
daughter. All the times after that, the wedding night, the night they’d
conceive the heir to the Springlands and the Winterlands… they were allon Emma
and the role she’d had in returning Regina to Leopold.
The question was… could she live with that? Could she live with herself?In
another five or so years, maybe even less, when the heir to the thrones of
Winterlands and Springlands was born, Emma would know exactly how they had been
conceived. A child of marital rape.
The whimpering from the bed had finally stopped. Regina lay totally still, the
tears drying on her cheeks. The slow inhalation and exhalation of her soft
breathing was constant and Emma knew she was sleeping, and not in pain anymore.
The Captain rose from the chair, wincing. She’d been sitting there longer than
she’d realise, her legs were full of pins and needles. Limping, Emma made her
way over to the door which she locked, then the portholes which were also
closed and locked up for the night. Then finally, she took Regina’s limp wrist
in her palm and twisted the key in the lock, releasing her from the handcuffs…
just for the night.
Careful not to disturb her captive’s slumber, Emma drew a spare blanket up to
Regina’s chin, not daring to disrobe her in case it caused another flashback.
Instead, she just left her to slumber peacefully.
Then Emma dragged what little spare bedding she had left over on to the floor
and created a makeshift bed for herself. It was more than she felt she deserved
after her actions that night, but Emma had spent a very long time indeed
suppressing her guilty conscience. If she listened to it as much as any average
person, she would have tied herself to the anchor and jumped overboard a long
time ago.
As she wriggled, trying in vain to get comfortable, Captain Swan wondered at
her options. She burned to save this girl, despite disliking her intently. But
she couldn’t do so without making enemies of both the Winterlands and the
Springlands and Emma needed their ports to trade it to earn a living. In
addition, the fifty thousand gold coins she’d be given for bringing back her
bounty was nothing to be sniffed at. Emma neededthat money. Maybe one day, when
she got bored of sailing and adventures and life, she would buy a manor house
somewhere… the Summerlands perhaps. She’d go and find her son that she’d left
to the Lost Boys all those years ago, and they’d live together for the next
fifty or sixty years… however many years it would take her to finally die
mortal.
Her son. Emma tried to picture him in her head, but the fuzzy-haired baby with
bright pink skin, still bloody from birth had faded over two hundred years.
Instead, she imagined what he would look like now. Her hair, little blond
ringlets. Maybe Bae’s brown eyes. Her angelic baby boy.
As Emma drifted off to sleep, she named him in her head. Milo. My beautiful
little Milo.
 
The Captain woke, tensed but did not open her eyes. There was someone moving
around her cabin. Padding softly, as though robbing her or running away after
an endless night of fabulous sex. There was a rattle at the door, but it didn’t
open. Emma vaguely recalled locking it the night before.
There was a muffled curse and a bang. Emma winced and opened her eyes. Regina,
still clad in her highly uncomfortable-looking dress from the previous day was
trying to break the lock on her door… with the hilt of Emma’s sword. Sod.
“It’s dark outside,” the Captain whined, enjoying Regina jumping in shock.
“You uncuffed me.” Regina hissed back. “I’m making a getaway.”
Emma stretched out, popping the kinks in her back and placing her hands
underneath her head. “Come on, love. We’re two days sail away from Neverland.
We’re about to cross into the Sea of Monsters, which means another two days
sailing to Hollow Isle. Where is there to get away to?”
“You wouldn’t have to look at me.” Regina said lowly, her eyes lowered to the
floor. “Know how weak I am.”
Emma cocked her head and got up from the floor. “Trust me, Regina. I have many
words to describe you with… weak isn’t one of them. Where has this come from?”
Regina closed her eyes. “Last night. I was only… remembering. It won’t happen
again.”
“Technically it still is night,” Emma gestured out of the porthole. “And why
are you ashamed? What happened to you wasn’t your fault.” She tried to soften
her voice, reaching out a hand to put on Regina’s shoulder. The other girl
twisted away, her face embittered.
“Don’t,” she said sharply. “Don’t pity me because of this.” Regina spat at the
Captain. “I am not weak.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Emma said glibly, biting her tongue. She wasn’t the
Princess’s mother. She disliked the girl. Arranged royal marriages happened all
the time; it wasn’t like this was the first time marital rape had ever
happened. Just the first time it’s happened to somebody you know, a little
voice in her head said, but Emma silenced it.
Regina began to pace, apparently too wound up just to stand still. “Show me
something pretty.” The Princess demanded. “Something pure.”
“On it,” Emma promised, darting through the door into her ensuite treasure
room. She rooted through chests and boxes, until she found what she was looking
for. It was the smallest chest of the lot, cherry wood studded with diamonds.
She fished it out from the pile and returned to where Regina was still
frantically pacing.
“Hey,” Emma caught her attention. “Something pure…” She flicked open the latch
and lifted the dusty lid carefully. Inside she knew, was a pearl necklace.
Creamy, shimmering and glossy, the pearls were just what Regina was looking
for: pure.
“They’re beautiful,” Regina sat beside Emma, still keeping a good ten inches of
space between them. It was space that Emma knew better than to breach now. She
took the box from Emma’s hands, careful not to brush their fingers together.
The Princess lifted the pearls out, studying them carefully. A tear, as
beautifully formed as the jewellery, slid from her eye and trailed down her
cheek.
Emma snagged the necklace. “Turn around, then.” Regina’s instant panic was
obvious and Emma tried to rectify her mistake. “I mean hold your hair up, so I
can…” the stuttering woman held up the necklace. Regina, still tense, but
calmer, did as her Captain instructed. Emma slid the pearls around her delicate
neck, the muscles there twitching in reaction to the icy cool jewellery and
fastened the clasp.
“They’re beautiful,” Regina repeated, fingering the little individual stones.
“Yours if you want them,” Emma shrugged, getting back up and halting the
emotion filling the air. She wasn’t built for this sort of soppiness. “I looted
them off a ship a few years back.”
“Thank you?” Regina frowned, unaccustomed to the Captain’s rapid shifts in
mood. But before she could quiz her further…
BOOM!
Wood splintered around them and smoke filled the air. Emma, reacting on
instinct, launched herself back towards Regina and held their heads down as the
demolishment settled. Only when the carnage seemed to be over did she lift up
her own head and survey the damage.
“They blew the fucking door off!” Emma screamed, pelting towards the stairs to
the deck, leaping over the wreckage of what was once her cabin door.
Leaving the Princess quivering on the bed behind her, the Captain sprinted up
the stairs to emerge on deck… mid-battle. Her brave pirates were battling
uniformed men; Emma squinted at the embroidery on their top pockets. Oh, bloody
hell. NN. Nevic Navy.
Emma ran towards the stairs to the Quarterdeck, jumping over Dopey who was on
the ground and weaving round Granny, whose rolling pin was leaving Navy crewman
out for the count left, right and centre. She drew her sword from its sheath
and ran a Navy sailor through halfway up the stairs and dodged his falling body
as it crumpled.
Charming was at the wheel still and being attacked by navy men… who were being
fended off by Snow, wielding two swords in her right and left hands. On the
other side of the deck, another sailor was attempting to join his crewmates but
had been intercepted by Belle, who was cautiously wielding a ceremonial sword
from the maps room.
Emma took in the surrounding seas quickly. The Bloody Blade and the HMS
Dreadnaught were circling one another. The Dreadnaught was the Nevic Navy
flagship, and His Majesty King George I of Neverland’s preferred vessel. It was
blue and white-striped (Nevic colours), glossy, well-oiled and the pinnacle of
ship perfection.
Captain Swan wanted to sink it to the bottom of the ocean.
“I’ll take the wheel!” She yelled at Charming who nodded and surrendered it to
her. She grabbed the wooden spokes with both hands and went about tightening
the gap between the Bladeand the Dreadnaught.
“Fill me in,” she ordered Snow and Charming, who back-to-back, were fighting
off the navy sailors. It was an unfair fight – her dad and step-mother were
unafraid of using punches and kicks and underhand manoeuvres to win. The
sailors relied far too much on their weapons to protect them.
Charming feigned a sword thrust to the right and socked his opponent across the
left jaw instead. “They were on us in seconds; I’m sure they had some sort of
masking spell. They started firing less than ten minutes ago and started
crossing over as soon as they were in range. Red’s ready to fire – just waiting
for the signal.”
Emma nodded in confirmation that she had seen and heard what Charming had said,
then focused on aligning the two ships. Unfortunately, the crafty bugger on the
opposite ship seemed determined to stop that from happening. Emma smiled –
they’d soon learnt their mistake in sending men over so soon. Now they were
afraid to shoot canons for fear of killing their own sailors.
Finally, she had a good angle. “FIRE!” She yelled, pitching her voice so that
it carried over the chaos on deck below. The order was repeated until the boom
of canon fire sounded and Emma saw, to her satisfaction, that it had blown a
couple of good holes in the Dreadnaught.
Then, the sound she had been dreading… return fire. “Down!” She yelled,
grasping both Snow and Charming and pulling them down onto the deck with her.
It was a good call. A canon ball whistled over their head and smashed the
railings at the other end of the Quarterdeck. Grasping the wheel, Emma hauled
herself back to her feet and giddily stabbed a sailor in the gut as he
attempted to decapitate Charming.
Regaining control of the ship’s course, Emma briefly surveyed the on-going
fight below on deck.  There were already  a lot of bodies littering the floor.
More Navy than pirate, but Emma had lost more than she would care to admit.
“Argh!” Came a cry from near the steps. It was Charming. He’d been impaled
through the shoulder. While Emma watched, Snow calmly took a knife from her
belt and eviscerated the man. He let out a bloody gargle and fell to the floor,
his guts discolouring the wooden staircase.
“Take him to Bug!” Emma called out to her Quartermaster. “If you run into
Henry, Regina or Ella… lock them in Bug’s office with Charming. If you can’t
find them don’t worry, just get back here.” Snow nodded and took off towards
the opposite side of the ship where Bug’s little cabin was located. Emma
watched her go and prayed for the best. She might not have forgiven her father
his sins, but she didn’t want him to die.
“Well, well, well…” came a voice from behind her. Emma wheeled around to see
Lord Dylan Palmer of West Beach and Admiral of the Nevic Navy pointing a sword
at her. “Captain Emma Swan. Harbouring not only one, but twowanted fugitives… I
see.”
Emma furrowed her brow. “Well I’m wanted in the Winterlands for theft and
Autumnlands for conspiring to overthrow the monarchy. My Quartermaster is
wanted in the Summerlands for cutting off General Lothar’s testicles. And I’m
pretty sure one of my gunners flashed a nun once, but that’s a different
story.”
Lord Dylan huffed. “I meant Nevic fugitives.”
“Not sure we have any of those.” Emma feigned confusion. “I mean your laws are
nice and simple right? No murder, no torture, no inhalation of fairy dust for
leisure purposes and no sacrificial ceremonies involving the use of rabbit
entrails.”
“You have been boning up.” Dylan smirked. “Everybody always forgets that last
one.”
Emma’s hand inched behind her to the back of her belt. “Well, nobody on board’s
been molesting any bunnies, I promise.”
“No, these are special examples.” The Admiral told her, beginning to pace a
little. “My first quarry is Ashley Boyd.”
This stopped Emma’s search for her knife in its tracks. She had no idea who
‘Ashley Boyd’ was. There was nobody of that name on her ship, certainly. The
Lord glanced up and looked frustrated. “Oh, Swan. This is the fourth lead on
her I’m chasing up! You really have no idea?”
“None.” Emma shook her head. “Who’s the other?”
Dylan looked almost predatory. “I think you’ll have a better idea about him.”
And then Emma’s heart sank through the floor. “I received information that
you’ve been harbouring Prince David of Neverland.”
But that was as far as he got in his accusations, because Emma’s knife buried
itself in his thigh. He stumbled backward and fell headfirst over the side of
the ship. There was an intake of breath from behind her and Emma whirled around
to confront this new opponent head on… but it was an ally.
“You killed Lord Dylan of West Beach, the Admiral of the Nevic Navy?” Snow
demanded, shocked.
“Nah,” Emma wiped her still-blood-stained sword across her white linen shirt.
“Stabbed him in the thigh. He should be fine. Although he did take my knife
with him… prick. How’s Charming?”
“He’ll be fine.” Snow rolled her eyes. “Emma, you nearly killed the Nevic Navy
Admiral! The last thing you want is to be a felon in Neverland as well. It’s
bad enough we have to be on the lowdown in the Winterlands and Autumnlands!”
“The Autumnlands is a barren tomb since Maleficent overthrew the King,
remember?” Emma prodded her step-mother with the tip of her sword. “And there
isn’t anywhere in Evermore or Neverland where somebody on board this boat isn’t
wanted for something. I need I remind you about the testicles of General
Lothar?”
“I stand by that.” Snow rebutted. “Those balls were begging to be removed.” Her
eyes widened and she dived forward to grab Emma’s ankles, causing the Captain
to fall flat on her face and the blade that would have taken off her head whiz
by.
“Thanks!” Emma gasped. “We’ll finish this argument later!” She pushed herself
to her feet to engage this newest attacker. Nearly six foot and brandishing a
sharp halberd, the man would look threatening to most. To Captain Swan, he
looked like a gangly fresh-faced recruit with a glorified axe.
She ducked under his first swipe at her and thanked her lucky stars that a
halberd, being so heavy, was difficult and clumsy to manoeuvre with. Emma
slashed at his belly, and despite his jump backwards, still managed to score a
shallow cut across his abdomen. He chopped down at her shoulder which she
easily dodged. Then feinted at his right leg and buried her sword in his neck.
He hit the ground face-first and Emma left the halberd where it was. Though a
clumsy weapon with which to fight, Emma would appreciate its aesthetic value
when it was mounted on the wall. But she was distracted from thoughts of
interior design when a quartet of freshly-uniformed young sailors sprinted up
the steps towards her.
On second thoughts…she grabbed the axe from where it lay on the ground. Emma
would need more than a sword to fend off this lot.
The front pair were the first to engage, the left (who proudly boasted a
handlebar moustache), swiping at her legs and the right (with anchor tattoos)
thrusting at her torso. Emma blocked Moustache’s strike and swerved Tattoo’s
thrust. She twisted to engage Tattoo in light swordplay, then when Moustache
took the bait of her feigned distraction she buried the halberd in his side.
Three and Four came up from behind as she met Tattoo strike for strike.
The Captain drew her second knife from her belt, which matched the one which
had been lost in the sea along with Lord Dylan. Three had the dark skin of
Springlands and almond-shaped eyes… she caught his swipe on her knife hilt and
punched him in the stomach. Then Tattoo faked his way into dealing her a slash
across her side. Grimacing in pain, she blocked his follow-up slice at her left
with a block and then used the opening to slit his throat with her knife.
Only Almond and the other guy with adolescent fuzz on his face remained. Emma
easily disarmed Fuzz with a kick to his wrist and suffered for it when Almond
sliced her across the arm. Her side was still bleeding and she clutched at it,
feeling faint.
“Emma!” Snow called from above, but the blonde Captain couldn’t be distracted.
The swordplay was fast now, Almond and Fuzz working as a team to attempt to
kill her. But Emma had fought hundreds more fights and practiced thousands of
hours more of swordplay. She still had an advantage, injured and outnumbered.
Slowly she began to wear them down until she broke the two off from one
another, punching Almond so hard he hit the railings, where a feathered arrow
impaled itself in his chest. “That was for my step-daughter you bastard!” Snow
screamed down and Emma couldn’t fight a bloody smile.
Now only Fuzz was left standing. He looked frightened, intimidated and he had
been disarmed of his sword, leaving only a knife. In the right hands, it would
have been enough. Fuzz’s hands were shaking. Emma took pity on him and bashed
him hard on the head with the hilt of her sword. He dropped like a stone –
unconscious.
Much to her relief when she looked up, Grumpy was at the wheel, even though
trying to stem the bleeding from a head wound. “Thank God.” she breathed.
“Don’t give praise just yet, sister.” He told her. Emma looked out over the
deck. There were more Nevic Navy sailors than before and even fewer of her
people. And they were stillcrossing.
“Snow’s in command on deck for now.” Emma said decisively.
“Captain… what?” Grumpy wanted to know. She handed him her pirate hat and he
put it on, still confused. Then she stripped off her overcoat and breeches, to
Grumpy’s amazement and jubilation.
Emma pointed towards Fuzz. “I’m going to strip this guy, put on his clothes and
go over to their ship, where I’m gonna find a way to blow the whole thing to
kingdom come.”
***** We'll Roam *****
Chapter Notes
     Authors Notes: Many millions of thanks to my beta reader
     youngmachines.
     Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time does not belong to me, nor their
     characters or plots. The plot of this fanfiction belongs to
     shikabane-mai, and the artwork she drew can be found: post/
     46770603575/captain-emma-swan-and-her-former- bounty-mark
“My gran had always told me that a woman--any woman worth her salt--could do
whatever she had to.” – Charlaine Harris
 
Fuzz’s clothes were itchy on Emma’s skin, but she ignored the mild discomfort
in favour of finding rigging she could use to cross over to the Dreadnaught.
Grabbing a well-oiled rope, she hung on as she endured the dizzying ride. With
a thump, she landed on her feet on the deck of the Dreadnaught.
“Ahoy, sailor!” Someone called from across the deck.
“Ahoy!” Emma called back, lowering the tone of the voice so she could pass as a
man. She fingered the hilt of the knife hidden under the loose uniform of a
Nevic Navy sailor.
The man that had greeted her stepped over from the rigging he’d been tying off.
Emma hesitated; she could subtly stick a knife in his gut now, or hope that her
acting was good enough to put him off making any further chit chat. The man
stopped just ahead of her, blocking her off from the hold where she could have
found explosives like fairy dust. Damnit.
“What are you doing back on deck…” the man glanced at the embroidered right
pocket of her uniform. “…Private?”
Private Fuzz, huh? Emma fished for an excuse and gambled with: “Lord Dylan sent
me back to fetch another sword from the hold. He was disarmed and his favourite
weapon was thrown overboard.”
The man’s eyes narrowed but mercifully he didn’t subject her to further
questioning. He stepped aside and Emma hurried forward, descending the steps
leading into the hold at a jog. Making a snap decision, she turned left into
relative darkness. “Lamp, lamp…” she muttered to herself, groping around before
she alighted on the pear-shaped oil lamp. Her hand travelled downwards until it
touched a rattling box… matches. She lit one and held it to the oil where it
mercifully flared up, giving her light to traverse the hold with.
She held the lamp above her head, taking in the hold of the Nevic Navy
flagship. Swords, dried and pickled food, craters of fresh water and there…
dark fairy dust. Now all she needed was a fuse to blow the Dreadnaughtsky high.
There were large coils of rope looped over the rafters next to the water
craters. Emma grabbed a length and sawed what she needed off with her belt
knife. Not necessarily perfect technique, but functional. Scanning her
surroundings, she hobbled over to a group of stacked barrels, holding her
injured side. When she took her hand away from her Navy uniform, it was bloody.
Damn, the cut had been deep enough to have already soaked through the fabric.
Emma used her knife to lever open the barrel tops, taking a sniff at what was
inside. Grease, rum, wine… aha, oil! She dipped her length of rope in the
liquid and limped back over to the container of dark fairy dust. Placing her
make-shift fuse in a suitable place for maximum explosion, Emma lit a match and
touched it to the end of the oiled rope.
There was a spark and then it caught. Emma, her job done, jogged as quickly as
she could with her injuries to her side and arm towards the stairs. She took
them at a sprint, trying to mentally estimate how much time she had before the
whole ship would blow. Suddenly not so sure, she barged past the man that had
stopped her on arrival and dived like a fish off the side of the Dreadnaught.
Hitting the water was only a burning pain. The salt, which while disinfecting
her wounds, hurt like a bitch. Nevertheless, Emma gritted her teeth, discarded
the ridiculous little Navy cap which had been hiding her glorious golden locks,
and struck out. Fast. She couldn’t have more than a minute left before the
thing would blow.
She cut through the water quickly, but not as effortlessly as usual. Blood
loss was taking its toll and she felt faint. Emma raised her head from the
water and judged the distance between her and the Dreadnaught.Not far enough –
her heart sank. She swam fast, but was it going to be fast enough?
Emma felt the reverberations of the explosions before she heard it. The water
was trembling around as the ship collapsed in on itself and she flew backwards
on the wave that had originated at the epicentre. Emma put her head between her
knees and curled herself up into a ball, trying to protect the sensitive parts
of her body from the flying debris.
The aftermath of the explosion seemed to last forever. Emma was pushed further
from the wrecked ship with every continuing ripple. She tuned out the ripping
pain everywhere in her body. It was with dizzy alarm that she saw the water
around her stained red… and then her vision went black.
 
There was a stinging pain in her side. It repeated uniformly. Sting. Sting.
Sting.There was a quiet busyness to the place where she lay, drifting between
alert and unconscious.
Slowly things came back to Emma. The last thing she remembered was floating
aimlessly in the rippling water, having just endured an explosion… which had
been caused by her lighting a fuse on a barrel of dark fairy dust… because her
ship was being attacked by the Navy!
Emma sat bolt upright. Then screamed in pain.
“Captain Swan!” Bug said in alarm, at her side. The stinging sensation she had
felt when she had awakened had been him stitching her wound. Emma cast a glance
at her arm and was relieved to see that had been sewn up while she was still
unconscious. Medical pain was the worst kind – there was no adrenaline to take
the edge off.
But her sudden, rash movement had torn a lot of the stitches Bug had just
carefully sown. Emma looked down at her injured side and winced. The stress on
the wound had caused renewed bleeding.
“Lie back down while I finish this,” Bug ordered. “And I’ll tell you everything
you want to know.”
Emma nodded in agreement, still grimacing in pain. Bug was one of the two crew
members that Captain Swan took orders off, because he knew what he was saying
and he never abused his power as their surgeon. Emma knew she was damned lucky
to have him on board. The other was a man nicknamed Geppetto, her Master
Carpenter. When he gave orders, the whole crew obeyed them and put in the
muscle to improve the ship. And after two hundred years of sailing, it often
needed fine-tuning.
“So,” Emma began, lacing her fingers over the torso. “What was the outcome of
the battle?”
Bug’s needle began to dive into her flesh once again. “We won… your successful
destruction of the Dreadnaught turned the tide in our favour. To be honest, we
had more of a problem stopping the Navy sailors from stealing our dinghies to
run away than actually fighting them off.”
“How many wounded? How many dead?” Emma asked, tensing. This was something she
dreaded asking, but had to know. The last time she had glanced over at the
fight on the deck of the Bloody Blade,there looked to have been many pirates’
bodies littering the floor.
Bug squinted down at his ongoing work and bit his lip. “Three dead. Nine
wounded, including yourself. We were saving the funerals until you woke up.”
Deciding not to ask the obvious follow-up, Emma stalled. “How long was I out?”
“Around a day and a half. It’s early afternoon.” Bug replied softly, knowing
what was coming next. The trouble with sailing with the same crew for decades,
even centuries in some cases, is that everyone became attached. They were more
of a village community than villains. Although the vast majority of pirates
still maintained a healthy bloodlust.
“So tell me the dead and the wounded,” Emma commanded with false bravado,
concentrating on Bug’s needle tying off the end of her wound.
“Dopey, Jim and Gus were killed in battle,” Bug said in a hushed tone, in
respect for the dead. “The wounded… you, Granny, Grumpy, Happy, Charming,
Bashful, Red, Sneezy…” he paused. “And the Princess Regina.”
Emma fought the urge to jump up and search Bug’s little medical bay for her
bounty prize. She was worth triple her weight in gold! Instead, she gritted her
teeth. “Any critical wounds?”
Bug helped her to sit up, being very careful not to dislodge her stitches.
“Happy’s lost his left leg below the knee; Red has bad head trauma… the others
are all out of the woods. Charming, Granny and Bashful have been cleared and
have returned to deck. And we’re still waiting for Grumpy, Sneezy and Regina to
regain consciousness.”
Emma swung her legs off the side of the hammock. She tugged her linen shirt
back down over her abdomen, covering the finished stitches. “I’m clear, right?”
Bug nodded.
“Then take me to see the Princess.” Emma commanded. They began to walk to the
other end of the little medical bay. “What should I expect?”
Bug pursed his lips. “She was run through by a sword, which miraculously missed
all her vital organs.” Seeing the puzzled look on Emma’s face at his
terminology, he simplified it for her. “You know when you normally run somebody
through, they die instantly?”
Emma nodded. In her mind, she could picture the sailor she had driven her blade
through only yesterday. He had died immediately on her sword.
“Well that’s because you normally hit part of the body that is so important,
you’d die without it. What happened to Regina was that the blade hit her in
such a place that it did not damage anything she couldn’t live without.”
Emma’s brow furrowed. “I think I understand. She’s alive because the injury
isn’t anywhere important?”
“More or less,” Bug nodded. “Here we are…” he gestured down at the hammock they
had stopped by. The Captain looked down at the injured Princess. Her over-
imaginative mind had foreseen blood pumping out of a hole in her torso, perhaps
with the sword still sticking out for added effect. But the reality was very
different… Regina lay peaceably on the hammock, clean white bandages wrapped
around her chest. The pearls that Emma had given her yesterday morning were
still fastened around her neck… and oddly undamaged. Her abdomen down was
covered by a sheet, whilst the dress she had been wearing for the last couple
of days was folded neatly over a chair.
Emma sighed in relief, leaning against one of the nearby wooden supports.
Regina looked relatively normal. But her relaxation was momentary as Belle came
barrelling in to the medical wing. “Captain!” She exclaimed, looking down at
the empty hammock which Emma had been sleeping in for the last day and a half.
Belle looked left and right, eventually spotting Bug and Emma standing over
Regina’s hammock.
The Navigator half-jogged, half-walked towards them, an excited look on her
face. “I just sighted Hollow Isle! We should be able to get there and back
before sunset,” Belle estimated. She had taken some convincing to help them to
find Rumplestiltskin’s dagger, even after Emma’s story about how he had ruined
her life. Emma still suspected her of having her own agenda in finding the
dagger, but the Captain didn’t care, so long as she could lay her hands on the
blade and give it to Hook.
She turned her gaze away from Regina’s prone body. “I’m cleared to go up on
deck and give orders, right Bug?”
“Free to go whenever you like, Captain,” her surgeon nodded.
Emma smiled. “Excellent. Will you please ask Doc to bring Regina up on deck as
soon as she is able… and that there are a pair of handcuffs in my Quarters that
I will need to restrain her with.”
“Aye, Captain,” Bug saluted her, and turned back to tending to his patients.
Somewhat glad to escape the stifling, quiet air of the little medical bay, Emma
strode quickly back up the stairs and on deck. After 36 hours of
unconsciousness, the light was blinding to her eyes, but the Captain tried to
power through. She walked up the steps to the Quarterdeck, slower than usual
and still covering her eyes. The ache that had begun to form in her head was
not helping her throbbing side in the slightest.
“Emma!” Somebody exclaimed and she was swept up in a hug. Emma smelt the scent
of salt and daisies, which meant that her assaulter was none other than her
step-mother.
She clumsily hugged her back with her uninjured arm. “Hey, Snow,” Emma croaked,
feeling like all the air had just been compressed out of her lungs.
Her Quartermaster pulled back, grinning at her. “We were all so proud when you
blew that ship sky high.”
Emma laughed, long and loud, much to the complaint of her side, which continued
to throb mercilessly. She moved past Snow and onto her father, who was looking
as spritely as she’d ever seen him. He grinned at her from the wheel. “How many
kills?”
Captain Swan recounted in her head. The guy she had run through on the steps.
Lord Dylan, the Admiral. Moustache, Tattoo and Almond. And then all the men
remaining on the Dreadnaught.“Five here, then I blew up the Nevic Navy
flagship.” She held out her hand, smirking. Her father dropped two silver coins
into her palm with a scowl.
Snow rolled her eyes. “I still can’t believe you have a running bet on who can
kill the most in battle.”
Emma shrugged, nudging Charming with her hip to take control of the wheel. If
she squinted, she could just about see Hollow Isle emerging from the mist.
“Hey, you’re always talking about father-daughter bonding.”
She did not bother to listen to Snow’s reply as she withdrew Charming’s
telescope from its place in his belt. Her own belt with its many attachments
was probably somewhere in Bug’s little medical wing, along with her coat and
items other than the linen shirt, breeches and soft boots that she was wearing.
Emma extended the telescope and peered through it, closing her left eye
automatically. The engorged vision it gave her showed a tiny beach, adequate
enough for a dinghy but the Bloody Blade wouldn’t even get close. Emma shut the
telescope and handed it back to her father. “Alrighty,” she told her
Quartermaster and Boatswain. “I’m going to take Belle and Regina with me to
Hollow Isle, while you two guard the ship against any possible attacks from
creatures in the Sea of Monsters. We’ll return at sundown, with or without the
dagger, and then try again the next day if we have to.”
Snow frowned at her step-daughter. “Isn’t Regina still unconscious?”
“She’s outwitted us too many times already,” Captain Swan pointed out. “I don’t
trust anyone besides myself to make sure she doesn’t do it again, even if she
was as dead as a doormat. She could be faking it.”
Her Quartermaster flinched, but Emma pretended not to notice. She wasn’t
running a community here, where her job was to make everyone happy. She was
running a pirate ship. As long as the coffers were always stacked with gold,
jewels and rare delicacies, she didn’t care who she offended.
Emma cast her eye out over the deck below and was saddened by what she saw.
Yesterday she had lost three pirates. Dopey, one of the seven Dwarves who now
numbered only six. Jim, a faithful ex-nobleman who had been cast out of the
Summerlands court for fraternisation with the Crown Princess Abigail. And Gus,
a lady’s man with biceps the size of her face, who occasionally courted Red.
And if she hadn’t already lost enough, she still had two vital crewmates down
in medical care. The result was that the crew needed more people to pull up the
flack. There were untied lines everywhere and the sails were blowing wildly.
“Snow. Charming,” Emma began. “I want you to do the grunt work if you please,
just for now until I find replacements, please.”
“But Emma –“
“What use are people in command if there isnobody to command?” Emma asked
rhetorically. “We lost three excellent pirates yesterday. I’m asking you to
take their places. For now.”
 “Aye, Captain.” Snow muttered resentfully. Charming only nodded at her. Emma
knew that he would always do what needed to be done. But Snow on the other
hand, Snow had never quite grasped that though she was Emma’s step-mother, she
was Captain Swan’s underling and therefore had to take her orders.
Emma watched the duo descend the stairs and picking up the flack left off by
the dead pirates. Now free to steer in solitude, just the way she liked it,
Emma focused on her view of Hollow Isle, which was becoming clearer and
clearer.
If she was Rumplestiltskin, where would she have hidden the dagger?
Captain Swan was a pirate through and through. She would have found a nice,
wooden chest. She would have placed the dagger in it. She would have picked a
spot, dug down ten feet, placed the chest in the ground and covered it up.
She’d find a map of the island, mark an ‘X’ where she had hidden the dagger and
concealed it somewhere in her messy desk.
But she was a pirate. Rumplestiltskin was a finicky, clever magician.
If Emma was a magician, she’d had cloaked the dagger in some kind of special
spell and given it a thousand magical protections which could never be broken.
Her stomach clenched. How in the hell would she get her hands on the dagger if
it was protected magically. Was this whole endeavour a waste of time?
She was abruptly torn for her thoughts when Doc scrambled up the stairs towards
her, wearing a beam bigger than the sun. “C’ptn! C’ptn! It’s your lass, the
Princess! C’ptn, she’s awake!”
Emma found herself smiling, quite against her will. She wasn’t happy that
Regina was conscious again, she told herself. Emma cared little for the girl.
Doc’s jolly demeanour was just making her smile, quite irrationally. “Can you
escort her up here in handcuffs, as soon as Bug clears her please?”
“Aye, Captain!” Doc saluted with enthusiasm. It seemed almost out of sync with
the grieving atmosphere on the ship, but Emma was grateful for it. Doc, an aid
to Bug as well as a pirate, had seen a lot of death. He claimed constant
exposure to it provided gallows’ humour, whatever that was.
Death. Emma’s gaze had been stubbornly avoiding the three bodies wrapped in
canvas sacking, placed in the middle of the deck. There was at least a metre
radius around them out of respect. Gus, Jim and Dopey. Three of her most loyal,
unassuming pirates. Emma didn’t know how she was going to replace them,
especially when the journey from the Sea of Monsters back to the Springlands
was at least two month’s sail.
They would have to hold funerals; or what passed for a funeral on a pirate
ship. Usually Emma would have the crew member’s closest friends say a few
words, then roll the body away to disintegrate at sea. She would have Snow set
fire to a dinghy with an arrow, but dinghies were expensive and this was a
high-risk profession. Her trading costs would go through the roof.
If that wasn’t enough, Emma considered the pirates that were still in critical
condition. Happy, who had lost half of his leg. Red, who’d suffered severe head
trauma. A flush of guilt swept through the Captain. She hadn’t visited either,
yet. Logically, she knew Bug or Doc would keep her informed about their
progress, but after 240 years of service on the ship between the two of them,
it felt so impersonal.
“Captain!” Someone yelled from below and Emma snapped her attention back to
current proceedings. Doc was escorting their captive out into open air and for
the first time Regina looked like a prisoner. A prisoner headed to the gallows,
in fact. Head bowed, that stubborn pride drained from her body. She wore
clothes that had evidently been sourced from the Quartermaster, as they were
the general uniform of a pirate – a linen shirt, breeches and boots. And then
there were her wrists, cuffed together and clanking.
Doc pulled her gently up the stairs to the Quarterdeck, which presented no
challenge. Had Regina really given up all hope of escape, or was this just
another act?
“Your belt, Captain,” Doc handed her the long, sturdy strip of leather, which
Emma wound around her waist twice. She checked her weaponry; sword, knife…
although she was missing its matching blade, which had been lost in Lord Dylan
of West Beach’s thigh. Meanwhile, Doc was cuffing Regina to the rail, and then
left promptly, which Emma appreciated. She still didn’t yet know how the
Princess had been so badly injured. Why hadn’t she barricaded herself in Emma’s
Quarters like any smart woman would do?
“Care to explain how a sailor with a pointy thing got close enough to run you
through?” Emma asked casually, the strain caused by the events of the previous
day showing in her tone.
“I wanted to help!” Regina spat. “I hate those Navy bastards.”
The Captain glanced over at where she was chained. The Princess was perhaps not
as downtrodden as Emma had initially… feared? Did she really enjoy Regina’s
fiery nature? No, Emma decided. She liked a Princess with a fiery nature; it
set a great precedent for other pampered little girls to follow.
“Why?” Emma asked curiously. It had bugged her back when they had been escaping
from Port Lost – Regina had chosen to go with them willingly rather than stay
behind to be caught by the Navy. Why did she hold such a strong opinion? Other
than just having been stabbed in the torso by one such sailor, of course.
Regina hesitated. “They’re responsible for Law Enforcement in Port Lost, but
it’s a fetid wasteland. Not that there are many laws to enforce anyhow, but
even the ones that are there are very loosely upheld. You pass ten people on
the street. At least four are high on fairy dust. I used to go out back behind
the brothel to dispose of waste and some nights I would find dead bodies. There
were cards advertising assassins in the windows of the grocery store.”
Emma grinned wryly. “They came after us because we’re harbouring fugitives.
How’s that for ironic?”
Regina let out a low chuckle. Suddenly Emma had a flush of panic. What was she
doing? She already felt bad enough sending the Princess back to Cora and her
bastard of a husband-to-be. How much worse would that be if Emma felt loyal to
her? The Captain knew exactly how bad it would be. She wouldn’t be able to go
through with it.
Reluctantly, she hardened her heart. “We’re going on a little fieldtrip,
Princess. And before you ask, we’re going over there –“ Emma pointed out Hollow
Isle. “And no, the fieldtrip is not optional.”
“Why?” Regina asked, mimicking Emma earlier.
The Captain rolled her eyes. “Because I don’t trust you with anybody else.”
Emma withdrew her bunch of keys from her pocket. “C’mon.”
Just as she was descending the steps toward the dinghy at the side of the ship,
Emma was accosted by a large ball attached to a petite blonde. “Unf, Ella!”
The highly pregnant girl they had picked up out of the sea before they had
docked in Port Lost clung desperately to her arm. “Captain Swan, will you
please let me go with you? Please?”
“Ouch!” Emma exclaimed, pulling her arm free of Ella’s tight grasp. “Ella, no.
You should stay near a doctor, just in case.”
Ella growled, frustrated. “I want this thing out of me! Maybe being on solid
ground will help!”
Emma shook her head. “No, Ella. You have to stay here. Understand?”
Reluctantly, the pregnant girl nodded. Once she had taken care of that
particular dilemma, Emma continued on downwards into her cabin. She sidestepped
the clothes, paper and bottles that covered her floor like a carpet of debris
and opened the adjoining door to her treasure room.
Some people had stands of clothes. Hats. The weird ones even had stands of
stockings or garters. Emma had stands of blades. Selecting a lethal looking
thing with a ruby embedded in its hilt, she shoved it through her belt. Though
she was not expecting any trouble on this venture, it was reckless and
impulsive to go anywhere without a spare knife in her belt.
When she re-emerged on deck, it was to find Regina waiting patiently by her
door. “You didn’t invite me in,” Regina said by way of explanation. “I didn’t
want to be rude.”
“Five years of cleaning a brothel,” Emma muttered, mostly to herself. “And it
didn’t cure you of incorrigible manners?”
“Some of us were raised properly,” Regina taunted as Emma offered her a hand to
help her into the gently swaying dinghy.
Emma laughed, long and loud. “I was raised by nuns love. That was about as
proper as it gets!”
Behind them, Belle hurried up to the dinghy carrying enough maps to start a
decent bonfire. She was in danger of losing her balance and so Emma reached up
and grabbed half, setting them down in the dinghy. “Sorry! Sorry, Captain,”
Belle excused herself, sitting down with a thump. “Your archives on the Sea of
Monsters are pretty sizeable.”
“Bloody stupid, really.” Emma admitted. “Considering I can’t even read the very
lengthy captions.”
Regina looked astounded. “You were raised by nuns, and you’ve lived for, I
don’t know, centuries! And you can’t read?”
“The nuns were a bit shady!” Emma agreed cheerfully, reaching up to the line
which would lower the dinghy down to the ocean. Her biceps contracted as she
pulled hard on the line and Emma did not miss the momentary flush in Regina’s
cheeks. Interesting.
“Shady nuns?” Regina asked, brow furrowing. “Do you mean the dark shading of
their habits?”
The Captain was working up a bit of a sweat, pulling on the line. “Nope!” She
raised her voice as the winds of the ocean. “They all disappeared at midnight,
so one day I followed them. They went to the basement and got high on fairy
dust. There were a few animal sacrifices as well, but I didn’t stick around
long after that.”
Regina made an unladylike face. Emma continued her tale, grinning wildly. “They
tried to get me to properly join the convent when I turned eighteen, but I
declined.”
“You had morals then?” Belle quipped, smiling into her maps.
“Nuns don’t get paid well!” Emma joked, as they finally hit the water with a
splash. “No, even shady nuns were too virtuous for Emma Swan. I wanted to have
adventures, gold and –“
“Carnal knowledge of both genders?” Regina asked dryly.
Emma flipped her knife over in her palm as Belle chortled and pointed it at
Regina. “Aye, Princess. That too.” She directed Belle to grab the other oar,
and then began to pull on her own side with a grimace. Emma hadn’t always hated
rowing. In fact, when she was in the convent and afterwards when she was
cleaning the brothel trying to raise enough money to buy passage out of
Tortuga, she had dreamed of finding a little dinghy and rowing it away.
But two years later, after a gruesome adventure in the Sea of Monsters with
Hook, they had been forced to row a dinghy from the wreckage of their ship all
the way to Port Lost, Neverland. Which was ten days solid of rowing. Now,
whenever Emma picked up an oar, which she mercifully didn’t have to do often,
she felt the ghost of ten or twelve blisters on her thumbs.
By the time the rough bottom of the dinghy dragged across the wet sand of the
beach fifteen minutes later, both Emma and Belle had worked up a considerable
sweat. Emma pulled her linen sleeve across her forehead, parched. “Regina,” she
began hoarsely. “Can you pass me that canvas sacking?”
“Nothing wrong with saying ‘please’,” the Princess grumbled as she hauled the
sack over to Emma’s side of the boat.
“Please!” Emma squealed, in a mockingly poor imitation of Regina. She tore open
the drawstrings and found within two canisters of fresh water, one of which she
handed to Belle.
“Can I have some too?” A small voice asked from the other end of the boat. Emma
looked up, prepared to ream out Regina for the pathetic-sounding request, but
the Princess was looking puzzled as she glanced around.
Then, all of a sudden, the spare sacking behind Regina began to rustle and a
blonde head emerged, just as Emma drew her sword.
It was Ella. And she was gasping for breath. And clutching her swollen stomach.
And the sacking she had been lying on was wet.
Captain Swan ran a hand through her hair in frustration. “Why can’t people ever
follow my orders?” She demanded, as Ella opened her mouth to scream.
 
***** Some Men Have Died *****
Chapter Notes
     Authors Notes: Many millions of thanks to my beta reader
     youngmachines.
     Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time does not belong to me, nor their
     characters or plots. The plot of this fanfiction belongs to
     shikabane-mai, and the artwork she drew can be found: post/
     46770603575/captain-emma-swan-and-her-former- bounty-mark
 “The outcome of chaos can never be predicted. The only certainty it brings is
the devastation it leaves in its wake.” – Mark Fish and Joe Fazzio
 
“So you’re telling me,” Emma worried at her lip. “That between the four of us,
not only am I the only one who has given birth, but also the only one ever to
even see a birth?”
Ella let a low whining noise. Belle and Regina nodded, the former holding
Ella’s hand and the latter sitting as far away as possible without being rude.
Emma rolled her eyes and protested. “It was a magically induced birth 250 years
ago! The whole thing took less than ten minutes because some dick put a spell
on me!”
Belle looked up from where she was rubbing soothing circles on Ella’s back and
frowned at her.
“Blow the horn,” Emma decided.
Regina glanced at her quizzically. “Is that some sort of birthing terminology
for check her vagina?”
Of course the Princess used proper language,Emma thought to herself, resisting
the urge to bury her head in the sand. She’d come a long way in 250 years.
Commandeered her own ship. Maintained the loyalty of her crew. Even found her
father. The 20-year-old who had fallen in love so easily and had been willing
to throw her whole life away on a thief with a charming smile was gone. Long
gone.
The only question… was the five-minute-mother still in there somewhere?
“I meant the literal horn!” Emma exclaimed, pointing towards her canvas sack of
supplies. “Blow the horn in there and then empty it out so Ella can sit on it.
And help her out of this bloody boat as well, if we’re going to do this on a
beach we might as well do it on the actual sand!”
“Err, Captain?” Belle tapped her on the shoulder. A large, hollow booming sound
erupted from the boat, where Regina was blowing into the horn. Emma couldn’t
help but take in her flushed cheeks and grin.
“Yes?” Emma asked absently as she pulled the dinghy further up the beach, so
Ella would be able to get out with as little discomfort as possible.
Belle’s eyes were widening in their sockets. “We’ve got company. And as dinner
guests go… they look pretty unpleasant.”
Captain Swan whirled around the sand flying up beneath the heels of her boots.
And then promptly wished she hadn’t bothered. For rushing towards them at a
rate of knots, were the ugliest yet fruitiest clichéd islanders she had seen in
her life.
Trying not to panic, Emma did a quick headcount. At least twenty, maybe more in
the copse of woods behind them. She had to discount Ella from the fight for
obvious reasons and Regina…
“Hey Princess!” Emma yelled out, still watching the advancing tide of wild
human beings. “How are your combat skills?”
“I can’t even skewer raw meat!” Regina yelled back in reply, strain in her
voice. When Emma looked back at the dinghy, she saw why. The girl was trying to
single-handedly haul the pregnant woman onto the sand.
“Belle,” Emma said, directing her over to where Ella and Regina were
struggling. The Captain judged the distance between them and the islanders and
judged that they had about a minute at best before they were besieged. Emma ran
back to the boat and braced one of the benches, before kicking at the place
were bench and boat joined, hard. With a splintering sound, it came loose.
Smiling, she kicked hard at the other joint which also came loose.
She lifted the plank of splintered wood free and handed it to her Navigator.
Belle and Regina had succeeded in getting Ella out of the boat and had set her
down on damp sand, just out of touch of the tide.
“Regina!” Emma yelled over the sound of primeval screams and the shore. “You
need to look after Ella while Belle and I deal…” she snapped the second bench
off the dinghy. “With the natives!”
Regina gawped at her, as Emma grabbed her sword from where she’d lain it down
on the sand whilst Ella had started labour. “I cannot help this woman deliver a
baby!” Regina half-screamed at her, standing under Ella’s groaning body. “I’m a
Princess for crying out loud. I’ve never even held a baby before!”
“Really?” Emma asked, bewildered. But she had no time left to be puzzled,
because there was a berserk woman headed towards her faster than a lightning
bolt out of the sky.
Now the use of the benches she had broken off the dinghy became apparent. Emma
blocked the woman’s spear by spinning around the long wooden plank and then she
thrust her sword into the islander’s belly. First kill of the day.
She jerked her bloodied sword out of the corpse and undercut a man with two
knives in his hands and another between his rotted teeth. Another attacker who
had gotten far too close received a long wooden plank to his belly, which
knocked all the wind out of him and sent him careening backwards.
Having lost a weapon in her arsenal, Emma drew her first knife from belt. With
two dead bodies already in front of her, she was gaining a fast reputation and
a shield to blockade her from attack. The next man to approach her was fitter
and faster, leaping like a goat over the corpses at her feet. She was only just
quick enough to dodge his spear thrust, which skittered off her arm and drew up
a welled line of blood.
Emma met his next downward strike on her plank and they both winced as the
sharp blade bit into the wood. It took a moment to dislodge; one Emma used to
her advantage to slide her knife between the wild man’s ribs.
“Captain!” Came a cry from nearby. Emma turned her head and gasped reflexively;
Belle had a hand clasped over her thigh, which was bleeding copiously.
“Shit,” Emma muttered. “Get in the boat, Belle!”
Hoping the Navigator had done as she said, Emma began to back up towards the
dinghy. The spears became blurred and Emma’s straining limbs seemed to move on
their own to block them. She kept moving backwards until she hit the back of
the boat and tumbled head over arse onto the wooden floor.
Emma scrambled to her feet just in time to meet a spear striking at her
stomach, which she only just managed to knock away. Then, much to her relief,
there was a whizzing sound and her attacker sank to his knees in the sand. An
arrow had pierced his neck.
There was splashing from behind her and Emma dared not look, because she was
still trying to stop her guts from exiting her body via spear. But she hoped
like hell the splashes were the sound of reinforcements, because she alone
couldn’t hold up fifteen wild men and women.
“Hey, Ella,” Emma could hear a soft voice talking from behind her that she
recognised as Belle’s. “It’s going be okay. Bug is going to be here very soon.”
Then the girl raised her voice. “Hang in there Captain!”
Emma grunted in acknowledgement, decapitating a woman with a melon on her head.
When her head rolled away, so did the melon.
The sea and sand beneath them was stained red, with the islanders’ lifeblood,
Belle’s and her own. Some ass who’d managed at some point to lay his hand on an
actual knife had reopened the four-day-old wound on her calf, which had
previously been courtesy of a Nevic Navy arrow. Now the puncture had been
elongated by what looked like a very rusty knife. If she got green rot, then
god help her…
Emma grabbed the knife itself out of her attackers grasp as he died of a sword
cut to the belly. It was possible that one of these islanders had found
Rumplestiltskin’s dagger and started using it for themselves. Though Emma knew
that the magician was smart enough to make the islanders his first line of
defence, rather than the final solution.
The war cries of her reinforcements rang loud in her ears and then Charming and
Bashful splashed past, holding blades aloft and ready to get into the thick of
things. Emma allowed herself a moment to step back and take stock. She still
had her knives and her sword, the latter of which was coated in blood and
innards. Her crew… Charming and Bashful, a good team, were fending well for
themselves. Her Quartermaster, Snow, was useful as ever, taking down islander
after islander with arrows and slick efficiency. Belle, on the floor of the
boat behind her, pale as a sheet and losing blood fast. Regina… wading out with
Ella towards the dinghy the reinforcements had arrived in. Bug was sitting
there, looking helpless.
Emma had often wondered how such a high calibre of surgeon would choose to join
a pirate ship, especially when they couldn’t swim and preferred their own
sophisticated company to the rowdy crew. She assumed he’d committed some
heinous crime, but Bug had never seen fit to confess to her or anybody else, so
she was left with only her own theories.
Now, she faced a dilemma. Join the fight and help Charming, Bashful and Snow
beat off the islanders? Bind Belle’s wound before it was too late? Or dive into
the water and help Regina, who was now in open water and struggling to carry
the heavily pregnant woman, even with flotation?
Looking back at her Navigator[A1] , Emma realised who was in the most immediate
danger. She unbuckled her belt and began to remove attachments, her other
knife, canteen of water, tankard of rum, compass, telescope, large ring of keys
and pouch that had previously contained the magic bean. She tied the belt in a
loose half-knot three inches above Belle’s thigh wound.
“What’re you doing?” Belle asked foggily, her eyes closed. Without hesitation,
Emma reached up to her face and slapped her, hard. “Ow!” She exclaimed, eyes
darting open.
“Stay conscious or you’ll be screwed,” Emma grimly informed her, poking through
the detritus that usually littered the bottom of the dinghy. Finding what she
was looking for, she placed a long stick of wood over the half-knot on Belle’s
thigh. “This is gonna hurt.” She finished the full knot on top of the stick,
then twisted it round. Belle clenched her teeth down, but Emma could tell she
was struggling hard to contain screams.
Emma tied the tourniquet in place on her Navigator’s leg. “Clean off the blood
with salt water. Then keep an eye on the wound. If it keeps bleeding, that’s
when you panic.” Belle nodded once, and Emma stood up.
She executed a functional racer’s dive over the back end of the dinghy, into
the open water where Regina was struggling hard to keep both herself and Ella
afloat. Emma struck out at a lightning fast pace, swimming as quickly as she
could towards the Princess that was gasping for breath and the woman who looked
like she was about to give birth to her baby in the deep blue ocean.
Emma reached the pair just as Regina looked like she was about to give up and
sink beneath the surface. She grasped Ella’s torso in her arms, above her baby
bump but below her ribcage and kicked out using only her legs towards the other
dinghy.
With Emma helping, it was a much quicker process. Regina, who looked exhausted,
only swam weakly alongside them, asking Ella if the baby was coming yet every
thirty seconds. Finally, the Captain snapped. “When she has to start pushing,
I’m sure she’ll tell us!” The dinghy with Bug in it was, mercifully, only
another five feet away and Emma pushed hard on that last distance, desperate to
get back to the fight and help out.
Between her and Regina, and with Bug’s help on the other end, they just about
managed to heave Ella out of the water and onto the safety of the dinghy.
Regina made to push herself up onto the boat too, but Emma’s hand on her
forearm halted her in her tracks.
“What?” She demanded, without any of the respect due to the Captain of the ship
she was serving on.
“Belle’s badly injured and I need you to look after her until this is done,”
Emma explained.
“Regina?” Ella interrupted drowsily from where she lay on the boat. “Where you
going?”
The Princess hauled herself back onto the dinghy and swept a lock of damp,
salty hair off Ella’s forehead. “Just to go and look after Belle, honey. I’ll
be back soon.” She smiled down at the woman in labour. “I’ll be back just as
soon as your bitch of a Captain sees fit to let me.”
“Ouch!” Emma mock-grasped her heart as Ella giggled weakly. Regina clambered
back off the side of the boat and hit the water with an ungainly splash. When
she re-surfaced, Emma raised an eyebrow. “Shall we?”
Regina nodded curtly and struck out, swimming in long, paced strokes. Emma
easily kept up with her pace, even after her earlier exertion. She flipped over
onto her back and pulled ahead so she could see the Princess’s face. “So are
you a casual user of profanity or am I just a special case?”
But Regina refused to rise to the bait and kept swimming peacefully.
“Fine,” Emma made a face, flipped back over and pulled way ahead, swimming back
towards the battle at as fast a pace as she could maintain.
Her clothes were heavy on her body as she dragged herself out of the tide and
onto the sandy beach. She reached to her belt to draw her sword, then felt a
paralysing panic as she realised that it wasn’t there. Of course… she had taken
off all her belt blades when binding Belle’s thigh with said belt.
With a sigh, she reached up into both sleeves with opposite hands and withdrew
a pair of sapphire-embedded knives. They were slim and delicate, for ladies not
pirates. She had been pleasantly surprised when she had first met the widowed
Princess Aurora and had almost been eviscerated by these twins. Of course she
had knocked the Princess out and stolen them, but that had been the seedling of
her admiration and respect for Princess Aurora of Summerlands and Autumnlands.
But that was a different story.
Now Aurora’s stolen blades were in her hands, Emma set about using them.  She
cut across one man’s gullet and another abdomen, killing the first and
incapacitating the second. It had been a while since she had fought with two
knives and she tried to remember what Hook’s old arms master had taught her.
The Huntsman had been a lost and tortured soul but put any kind of weapon in
his hands and he’d know exactly what it was and how to use it. Emma might have
fallen for him for his glamour alone if she had not been carrying Bae’s baby at
the time.
Get in close, he’d always urged her. If you have the shorter weapon, get in
close.
Well, in comparison to the hunky spears of the islanders, her slim little
sapphire knives were certainly shorter. Emma ducked another clumsy swipe of the
spear and moved in, dealing her bearded attacker three quick strikes – thigh,
groin and torso. He fell before her and she stepped over him, confident he
would be getting up any time soon.
Her next opponent was perhaps the scariest vision she had ever seen. Her
adrenaline-pumped brain estimated him to be at least seven feet tall, with
muscles like baseballs and a beard so long he had wrapped it around his torso
to keep it out of the way.
Get in close, the Huntsman whispered in her ear. Emma wrinkled her nose. She
didn’t want to get anywhere near this guy.
A big lumbering fist came out of nowhere to punch her lights out as a spear
thrust forward at her belly. Emma dropped to the ground to avoid both and
watched thoughtfully as the Giant became slightly unbalanced before pulling it
back.
That gave her an idea.
Emma distracted him by dancing around him and dodging his clumsy, but powerful
attacks with gracious speed, all the while watching for an opening. It came
when his beefy hands lunged for her neck – to strangle her maybe. She ducked
underneath, grabbed his hips and brought her knee up with all the strength she
possessed. Her joint impacted with his groin, hard and the islander let out a
long, almost inhuman wail.
There was a chuckle from behind her as the Giant fell to the ground, causing a
mini-earthquake. Emma rolled her arm over like she was pitching a ball and
brought her knife right down into his throat. Blood, thicker than the batter
Granny used to coat fish on a Friday night, oozed from his neck.
Only then did Emma turn to face the one who had giggled.
“Well,” Snow commented, amusement sparkling wildly in her eyes. “The bigger
they are, the harder they fall.”
Emma elbowed her. “You had to make my beautiful victory clichéd, didn’t you?”
Snow looked down at the dead man, thick blood gurgling onto the sand and glassy
eyes staring up at the baking hot sun. “Only you could see something so
despicable as beautiful.”
Captain Swan followed her Quartermaster as she strode off towards Charming and
Bashful, who were dispatching the last of the islanders. Emma wasn’t crazy. She
saw the beauty in a clear tide, in Princesses on their 18th birthday, in
cornfields that stretched for miles or a fruit market full of both exotic
strangers and locals. But she also saw beauty in less conventional places. In
death. In whores. In a shipwreck. Even in savages like these, who knew only
basal human instinct.
She wasn’t crazy. Maybe just a little damaged.
Looking over at the last dregs of the fight, Emma could see that they had it in
hand. She moved over to where Belle and Regina sat in the dinghy and hauled
herself in. Now that the adrenaline was fading from her body, the pain from the
re-opened wound in her thigh was making itself heard.
Regina, with her arm around Belle’s waist, had managed to neatly bind her wound
in clean white bandages. “Where’d you get them?” Emma asked curiously.
The Princess shrugged. “Belle uses bandages to bind her breasts, so we
unravelled that and cleaned her wound.”
Emma nodded, impressed. She hadn’t even thought of that herself. Looking down
at her aching calf, she winced. The bleeding was waning, but it still looked
nasty and she didn’t want the wound to become infected. “It’s not a bad idea.”
She reached under her linen shirt to the binding she used on her own breasts.
Hers was leather, rather than Belle’s soft, clean cotton, but it would do the
job just as well. She noted in amusement how Regina averted her eyes and her
cheeks flushed, even though Emma still wore her linen shirt over the top.
The leather binding came loose and Emma tugged it out from under her shirt. The
wound had already been well cleaned by salt water from her two dips into the
water earlier, but Emma splashed half a canteen of clean water over it, just in
case. Then she wrapped the leather round and round her calf until she could tie
off the ends.
Just as she finished that little task, her Boatswain, Quartermaster and Bashful
joined them, looking exhausted but satisfied at a job well done. “What’s the
plan now, Captain?” Charming asked her, sheathing his sword back in its
scabbard.
“Same as before those islanders showed up,” Emma wiped her forehead on a piece
of her shirt. “Belle, Regina and I will search for the dagger while you take
Ella back to the ship.”
Immediately, a roar of outrage went up. Charming wanted to stay and help. Snow
wondered how she could be so selfish, keeping a badly injured Belle with her on
the hunt. Regina wanted to go back with Ella and help her through her labour.
“Okay… stop!” Emma yelled loudly, over all three of their voices. “Charming,
you can stay if you want. Snow, I need Belle to find the dagger, and she has a
couple of hours before any serious damage will set in. Regina, you’re my
captive. Your ass is mine, which means you do whatever I want you to.”
The crew dared not argue more after Captain Swan had just asserted her
authority, but she could tell from the set of Snow’s mouth and Regina’s hurt-
filled eyes that they were not happy with her. Snow she could understand.
Regina she could not; it wasn’t in a captive’s job description to be happy.
It was grudgingly that Snow set out back towards the boat where Ella was giving
birth. It was clear she resented not taking Belle with her. Regina stayed
behind even more grudgingly. It was clear her main desire was to dive off the
back of the boat and swim until she could help Ella deliver her baby into the
world.
Emma spared a glance at Belle. She looked a little blue around the edges and
clammy, but determined to help. The Captain couldn’t help but wonder what
endgame Belle was imagining if she was this determined to find the only thing
that could kill her lover at the expense of her own health.
Charming held out a hand to help the Navigator out of the boat and onto the
sand, but as soon as she put weight on her left leg, Belle crumpled. Held only
by Charming’s muscled arms, she drooped wearily. Emma merely smiled. “It looks
like we’ve found a use for Charming after all.”
He tipped his pirate’s hat at her mockingly and ducked underneath Belle,
hoisting her up so her abdomen lay on his shoulder. “Bloody hell!” She gasped,
taken completely by surprise.
“So,” Emma began. “Any idea where your beloved hid his precious dagger?”
 
“This is ridiculous.”
“Shut up, Princess.”
“I mean… really ridiculous.”
Emma sighed. “I swear to God, if you don’t shut your precocious little mouth…”
“You’ll what?” Regina demanded, leaning on her shovel, sweat dripping from her
brow. “You can’t kill me, Swan. You need me too much.”
“I need the money your mother’s going to give me in exchange for your sweet
little ass,” Emma corrected her. “I certainly don’t need you.”
Regina took a swallow of water from the container lying on the ground between
them, then half-heartedly buried her shovel back into the sandy earth. “Your
head’s so big I’m surprised you can get in and out of your cabin. You need
someone like me, who doesn’t have to do everything you say.”
Emma smirked at her, driving her own shovel into the ground. “Are you
suggesting I keep you around for the sole purpose of deflating my ego every so
often? I’m not sure that’s worth 50,000 gold pieces.”
They worked in silence again for a little while, until Regina repeated her
earlier statement. “This is ridiculous. We’re digging under a tree that ‘has an
aura of power’. We’re more or less assuming your magician buried his dagger
here because it’s a nice, old tree!”
Frustrated, Emma threw her shovel down, where it stuck into the Earth. “I know,
but unfortunately it’s all we have to go on!”
Regina rolled her eyes back at Emma. “You say I’mnaïve and yet you’re so
willing to take this girl, Rumplestiltskin’s lover, at her word when she says
she’ll help you find the one thing that will kill him! How do you know she’s
not purposely misleading you!”
“I trust Belle!” Emma snapped back. “Our crew is like a family. She’s like my
little sister!”
“And yet given the choice,” Regina countered, leaning on her own shovel again.
“How many people choose family over love!”
“We both chose neither,” the Captain reminded her, clenching her teeth as she
dug down further.
“You chose neither,” Regina pointed out bitterly. “I had no love for King
Leopold.”
Emma swallowed, reminded again of that night, which seemed like a lifetime ago
but in reality was only two days. Regina had thrashed and screamed and begged
him to stop. But Emma knew he hadn’t. She knew exactly what had happened to
Regina and why she had run away from what seemed like to most to be the perfect
life.
Thankfully, she was saved from the soured conversation by the thunk of metal on
wood. Emma looked up at her Princess, smirking triumphantly. “Guess I was
right, after all!”
She unearthed a small wooden chest with one hand and lifted it up out of the
ground and onto her lap. Biting her lip in sudden anticipation, she clicked
open the latch and swung open the lid. Inside there was a full pouch, a skin of
rum and a scroll of parchment with some fancy letters across the top.
“You can read right?” Emma asked her, cheeks glowing scarlet against her will.
It did embarrass her, how uneducated she was. But it was only at times like
this when it really affected her.
Regina took the scroll from Emma, and bypassed the opportunity to make a snide
comment. The Captain was thankful and surprised – had it been Regina with the
weakness Emma would have been all over it with sass in a second. That was when
she realised – Regina had told her earlier that she had no skill with a sword
or a blade and Emma knew she was only an adequate swimmer – and yet she had
held off taunting her about it.
How odd.
“What does it say?” Emma asked, shaking herself out of her epiphany.
Regina shook her head and smiled down at the paper. “It’s some ancient
sacrificial rite for warding off evil spirits. It evidently didn’t work on any
of those islanders.”
“No,” Emma replied slowly, taking the parchment back off her and rolling it up.
“I guess it didn’t.”
Their disappointment at having found something which was so obviously not what
they were looking for was interrupted by the sound of footfalls. Charming
emerged from behind a bush, still carrying a blue-tinted Belle in his arms.
“We’re running out of time,” Charming informed them grimly. “It’s been at least
an hour. If we don’t get Belle back soon, she’ll have permanent damage.”
“And every day we stay here trying to find this bloody dagger is another day
spent in the Sea of Monsters!” Emma rounded on him. “You know how easily a sea
serpent could find us? Sirens? The Kraken itself? I will make sure Belle gets
back in time, but at the moment the potential damage she could sustain doesn’t
compare to all of our deaths.” She spat the last words out, making sure he
understood. As Captain, it was her job to make these kind of unpleasant calls.
She did it so others wouldn’t have to, and she didn’t appreciate being
contested.
The entire argument seemed to go right over her Navigator’s head, which was
indeed worrisome. “What’s in the chest?” She craned her neck, trying to see
inside. Emma held it up to show it to her.
“Nothing of importance. A scroll. A purse. Rum.” She snagged the purse of coins
and the rum from the chest, shut it again and set it back down in the ground.
Regina looked outraged. “You can’t just take that! Somebody obviously buried
that for safe-keeping.”
“Well, obviously,” Emma repeated, pocketing the purse and taking a long swig
from the skin of rum. “Want some?”
Regina was saved from finding a witty comeback when Belle gasped and clapped a
hand over her head. “I’ve been so stupid!” She exclaimed, eyes shining with
realisation. “Rumple wouldn’t just bury his most prized possession in the
ground like any random pirate with two brain cells to rub together.”
 
“Hey!” Both Emma and Charming protested, having buried numerous things on
various islands to ‘one day retrieve’.
“I suppose,” Belle’s voice was strained as if she was in serious pain. “There
could be two places where he would have hidden it. Act-actually in this tree,”
her breath was laboured. “Or in Hollow Lagoon.”
Emma tried to picture the map of Hollow Isle, which was actually shaped like a
key, in her mind. “Hollow Lagoon? That’s the lake thing in the middle of this
ring of trees, right?”
“Yes,” Belle nodded.
“Regina and I will take the lake,” Emma looked concernedly at Charming. “Help
Belle with this old tree… but if she gets any worse, you have to take her back
to the Blade.”
“Aye, Captain,” Charming nodded. The last they saw of the two was Belle
knocking at the old tree like a woodpecker and Charming carrying her round and
round it in circles.
 
Regina was uncharacteristically inelegant as they trekked through the wood. Her
floor-length dress caught on twigs and leaves and she often stumbled,
unaccustomed to rough terrain. “So,” she began, half-yelling from behind. “How
do we search a lagoon?”
“I’ll be doing the searching!” Emma yelled back. “You need to watch the lake.
If you see anything, mermaids, sirens, alligators… you make sure I know
immediately!”
“Why are mermaids more important?” Regina asked curiously.
But Emma didn’t hear as she had just broken out of the line of trees and seen
the Hollow Lagoon for the very first time.
It was breath-taking. The water was clear, with a turquoise tint. The corals
were colourful and the shoals of fish glinted beneath the surface. Behind her,
Emma heard Regina pull to a stop and suddenly intake breath.
“You think the dagger which could kill the darkest magician in Neverland and
Evermore is hidden in this lagoon?” Regina questioned sceptically.
“I don’t,” Emma reminded her. “Belle thinks so. And she knows Rumplestiltskin
better than either of us.”
“But you’ve known him longer.” Regina said quietly. She sat down at the edge of
the lagoon and took of her sensible leather shoes, which Emma recognised as
belonging to her own wardrobe. Her toes wiggled out from underneath the dress
and were dipped cautiously into the water.
Emma was fixated on the Princess’s delicate little extremities as she spoke.
“When you’re in the piracy business, love, who you’ve screwed goes a lot
further than who you know.”
“Must you always be so crass, Swan?” Regina asked absently, reclining on the
sand and sub-consciously pushing her breasts out for Emma’s increasingly more
ravenous gaze.
Well, two could play at that game.
“Remember what I said about watching for potential danger,” Emma said sharply,
as Regina yawned and stretched out in the sun.
She turned her back on the Princess and then, in one smooth motion, stripped
off her linen shirt, baring her torso to the sunshine and her back to Regina.
She could feel the burn of the girl’s gaze on her and couldn’t hide the smirk
as she loosened the drawstring of her breeches and kicked off her own shoes.
Then Emma hooked her thumbs through the waistband of her breeches, tugging them
over the curve of her behind and all the way down her long legs. She could even
hear Regina’s audible gasp. Leaving a small pile of clothes on the ground, Emma
jogged up to the edge of the water and segued into her racer’s dive.
Right,Emma thought, still chuckling internally, now time to actually get down
to business.
***** And Some Are Alive *****
Chapter Notes
     Authors Notes: Many millions of thanks to my beta reader
     youngmachines.
     Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time does not belong to me, nor their
     characters or plots. The plot of this fanfiction belongs to
     shikabane-mai, and the artwork she drew can be found: post/
     46770603575/captain-emma-swan-and-her-former- bounty-mark
 “Guilt is a powerful affliction. You can try to turn your back on it, but
that's when it sneaks up behind you and eats you alive.” – Kenneth Fink
 
Captain Swan’s blonde head re-surfaced for what felt like the hundredth time
since she had begun her search of the Lagoon for Rumplestiltskin’s dagger.
(Unbeknownst to her, Regina had kept count, almost drooling from the corner of
her mouth at the sight of tendrils of blonde hair clinging to damp skin, like a
mermaid. She had only re-surfaced fourteen times).
“The coral is clear!” Emma yelled back at her, diving back under water to
search some loose gravel underneath the reefs. This was miserable. Why would
Rumplestiltskin ever hide his dagger in such a beautiful place? Although, she
admitted, there would be something faintly poetic about it all.
It was as she accidentally cut her finger across a sharp piece of rock that she
heard muffled sounds from above the surface. Emma found firm footing on the
ground and pushed off, propelled through the depths quickly and breaking the
surface in a second.
And then, much to her surprise, she saw Allison, the whore from Tortuga,
floating gently in the water next to her. A siren… great.They were supposed to
take on the form of someone you desired so badly that to not touch their lips
with your own would cause physical pain. However, this one hadn’t quite hit
Emma accurately.
However, Regina, standing on the bank, looked dazed and lustful. “Emma?” She
called out, sounding almost inebriated. “Why are there two of you?”
Emma fought back a fit of laughter. The siren had taken on her own form for
Regina, which was quite the compliment. Did the Princess really find her to be
irresistible even in the face of death?
The siren, who still mimicked Allison the whore’s features swam through the
clear waters towards her. “What’s wrong, Emma?” She asked huskily. “Don’t you
want me?” She lunged forward, but the Captain stopped their lips making contact
with her fingertip.
The siren frowned at her and then her features began to swirl and change almost
nauseatingly. Allison’s hair shrank back into the siren’s head and her features
sharpened, becoming more and more angular until Killian Jones stood before her,
dripping wet and undeniably handsome.
“I’ll give you the best lay of your life, love,” he promised her in that
charming, cocky tone of his. “All you have to do first…” he got in close. “Is
kiss me.”
Emma shook her head again and backed away, smiling. “Try again.”
But just then, there was a loud splash from the other end of the lagoon and
Emma shot a worried look at her captive. Regina was wading towards them as fast
as she could, weighed down by sodden clothes. “Daniel!” She gasped, choking on
salt water. “Daniel, come back to me!”
Quick as a shot, the Captain drew a clawing siren into her arms and put a knife
against her throat. “Stop playing with her. I’m your victim.”
“That’s right…” The siren turned her head, which was no longer all cheekbones
and thick eyebrows. Instead it was plump, full lips and wide eyes staring up at
her. “Save me, Captain.” The fake Regina begged endearingly. “Save me from the
monsters.”
The real Regina was closing in on them, still seeing somebody else. “Daniel,”
she murmured, tears and splashes of salt water merging together on her cheeks.
Feeling only momentary guilt, Emma slit the siren’s throat with her belt knife.
She exhaled long and slow as the woman, now revealed to be a redhead with odd
purple eyes, fell dead into the water with a splash.
“You okay?” She turned to ask Regina, who stared at the place where the siren
had sunk below the surface, red blood still billowing from her corpse.
“What was that?” The Princess asked, eyes wide. “It was you, but it wasn’t you.
Then it was…”
“Who?’ Emma prompted, curious as to who the girl had seen to make her lose her
mind like that. Daniel, she had been calling out for. A special friend in
Neverland? An old lover from the Springlands?
Regina seemed then to regain control of her normal faculties. Whatever or
whoever had shaken her out of her normal composure was gone now, and so was
sensitive Regina… for now. “None of your business,” she snarked, then turned on
her heel and stamped towards the shore (admittedly difficult to do in a lagoon,
but the Princess pulled it off.)
“Hey, Captain! Princess!” Charming appeared at the edge of the forest, Belle in
his arms. “We found Rumplestiltskin’s dagger!”
The way Belle told the story was that they had spent a considerable amount of
time trying to figure out if the tree was hollow by knocking on the wood, then
feeling for hinges where there might be a secret compartment. However, in the
end it was Charming, leaning on the tree tiredly after long exertion that
caused the force-sensitive latch to trigger and reveal the dagger, tucked away
in the bark.
However, once Emma got her father away from Belle and Regina and took the
dagger from his possession, he admitted to the truth. He and Belle had spotted
the tiny compartment within minutes of first inspecting the tree and had spent
a good twenty minutes trying to figure out how to open it. Eventually, much to
their humiliation, they had found a tiny knot in the wood which depressed and
opened the compartment.
“Don’t tell her I told you,” the Boatswain begged her. “It’s humiliating enough
as it is.”
“I won’t,” Emma promised him, just as the other two members of their party
rejoined them. Belle spotted the dagger in the Captain’s hands and her face
fell. Emma smiled at them all, ignoring her Navigator’s obvious indecision
about the situation she had found herself in. “Time to tell Hook I’ve done his
dirty work for him, I think.” She reached for the tattoo of the compass on the
inside of her left wrist.
Part of the charm of Neverland was the magic which was sold so freely on stalls
and in marketplaces in all the big towns and cities. Magic was a fickle friend.
It worked in Neverland and the Sea of Monsters, for Rumplestiltskin in his
little merchant house in Tortuga and on both The Bloody Bladeand The Jolly
Roger.But for most of Evermore, magic was a figment of imagination and about as
real as old King Midas’s gold-tinted hair.
The magic she had in the tattoo on her wrist had been woven by a hedge witch on
the streets of Anise, which was the capital of Neverland. Emma had been
assisting Hook on one of his little trips into the city – which usually ended
in somebody dying. Such were the consequences of earning a living as an
assassin.
They had been checking out an escape route down an alley when the witch had
dangled out of her window and offered them a communication system. They already
had the tattoos – Emma on her wrist and Hook on his shoulder blade. The witch
charmed them so that whenever one of them rubbed their own tattoo with the ball
of their thumb, it would make the other’s tattoo burn. For centuries, when Emma
and Hook had separated, that had been how they had summoned one another for a
catch-up.
But just as Emma was about to place the ball of her thumb on the centre of the
inked compass…
“Wait -” Belle grabbed her arm, leaning so far forward that Charming almost
unbalanced and fell over. “If you give Captain Hook that dagger… my – I mean,
Rumplestiltskin will die. For sure.”
“I made a deal,” Emma told her, not insensitively. “I can’t go back on my word.
If you want to help your lover, I suggest you do so when the situation is not
quite so iron-bound.”
“I understand,” Belle muttered, releasing Captain Swan’s arm. Freed again, Emma
gently rubbed the ball of her thumb over all the points and the centre of the
compass, knowing that somewhere, Hook’s shoulder blade was burning.
It was then, while Emma was holding the Magician’s dagger and feeling the
fierce flame of victory, that Belle fell unconscious.
“Shit,” Charming swore, shaking her from side to side. He shot a panicked look
at Emma. “We left it too long.” Emma was at his side instantly, her head cocked
and ear close to Belle’s open mouth. Smiling momentarily when she heard and
felt inhalation and exhalation, she straightened back up and nodded to her
father.
“Back to the dinghy,” Emma ordered. “As fast as possible!”
Charming took off, his long legs stretching out and pounding the forest floor.
He was gone from view almost instantaneously. Emma herself only took a moment
to stuff the dagger through her belt and make sure that Regina was running too,
before she also took off.
It felt good to run again. Emma was essentially fit, swimming most days. But
she spent most of her life at sea, and it was only when she made port that she
got the chance to run. Her neglected leg muscles stretched out and burned
underneath her. Careful to watch her step, Emma bounded past trees and bushes,
searching for the open sky, the sand and the sea.
Then she was breaking loose of the tree line and jogging down the sandy beach
towards the dinghy, where Charming was a speck laying his friend down in the
wooden sanctity.
“Still okay?” Emma enquired breathlessly as she skidded to a halt by the
dinghy. The blue tinge Belle had boasted before had worsened and she was
clearly in pain, even while unconscious.
Charming looked conflicted. “Do you think we should remove your tourniquet?”
His hands hovered over the leather buckle of her belt, as if to undo it at a
second’s notice if required to. Emma could easily understand his fretful
anxiety - if they left it on too long Belle could lose her injured leg.
“No,” Emma decided. “If we take it off, she could bleed out. Let’s just get
back to the ship as quickly as possible and Bug can do his best for her.”
As if on cue, Regina arrived behind her, coughing and spluttering wildly, red-
faced. Emma couldn’t hide her surprise at the normally staunch and stoic
Princess attempting to cough up her innards onto the soft white sand. “What the
hell is wrong with you?”
Regina doubled over, gasping for breath. She mumbled something that sounded
like ‘fucking pirates’ and ‘fucking running’, but Emma knew she must have
misheard. The Princess never indulged in profanity, despite now being
surrounded by bad influences.
Emma began to push at the dinghy, where Charming was holding Belle against his
chest in a futile attempt to stop her from being jostled. “Get in,” she ordered
Regina, but the girl merely shook her head, looking too exhausted to even walk,
let alone clamber into a rackety old wooden boat. Growling in frustration and
worry for her Navigator, the Captain grabbed Regina’s underarms and hoisted her
up and into the boat. The Princess squealed in surprise. “If you must act like
some over-developed ape, at least have the grace to set me down gently!”
“My apologies, your Highness,” Emma snarked back, giving the boat a heave and
feeling relieved when it finally slid away from the wet sand to bob gently on
the tide surrounding Hollow Isle.
She leapt over the side and onto the wooden floor, using only one hand to
propel herself and still graceful as a gazelle. Emma pretended not to notice
Regina’s gaze fixated on her, in anger, lust or envy she didn’t know. Instead,
she grabbed an oar and handed the Princess the other, pushing the instrument
into the water at as fast a pace as she could manage.
Oddly, Regina managed to keep up with her the whole way back to the ship. Emma,
solely out of curiosity, snuck a peak at her arms. But of course, the loose
dress she wore masked them. Then a tidal wave of guilt rushed up within her.
There she was again, as selfish as ever. It was her biggest flaw – Emma only
ever truly cared about her own fate. Here was one of her own, a woman she’d
casually identified as a younger sister… and she was contemplating the biceps
of an attractive captive!
Gritting her teeth, Emma pulled the oar longer and deeper, burrowing away into
the deepest corner of her dark mind she could find until the burn in her hands
was a dull throb and the sting of fresh air on her battered skin made no more
than the barest impact.
“Emma,” there was a hand tapping her shoulder lightly. “Emma, we’re back at the
Blade.”
With an intensity and speed that was almost frightening, the Captain snapped
out of her deep, dark recessive corner and winced at the light reverberating
off her retinas. “Where did you go?” Charming asked her, attempting to be glib.
“None of your business,” Emma snapped back, not as in control as she posed to
be. She didn’t want another life on her conscience – and there she went again…
selfish.Making Belle endanger her life to find a weapon that would kill the
girl’s lover, all so Emma could pay a debt. Selfish.Enabling marital rape for
money. Selfish. Abandoning her own son to learn the identity of one of her
parents. Selfish. Selfish. Selfish.
Emma wrapped an arm around Belle’s waist as Charming did the same on the other
side and together, they hauled her up the rope ladder that had been thrown down
for them to board the ship. As soon as the trio were slumped on deck, two with
over-exertion and one unconscious, people surrounded them. Belle was taken down
to Bug and Charming was beginning to recount their story, but Emma just wanted
to get away from it all.
Remembering the 50,000 gold coins and hating herself for it, she only took a
moment to whisper to Red to keep an eye on Regina before she was stumbling down
the steps to her Quarters.
 Slowly, gingerly, Emma took stock of herself. First she unbuckled her soft
leather boots. They were sodden and stiff from being dowsed twice in salt
water. Then she undid her breeches. The lower left leg of the fabric had been
ripped away to expose the wound in her calf, so they were useless now. Emma
lobbed them off the edge of the bed, uncaring as to where they landed.
Then came her linen shirt. Torn in two places, it was mendable. She folded it
onto a chair, perhaps for Granny to darn later. Now Emma was all but naked, the
only material left on her body was the leather she usually used to bind her
breasts. Instead, it was tied around the re-opened wound on her calf. Wincing,
she loosened the knot and began to unwind the leather.
The last vestiges of the fabric were stuck to her wound, glued by blood and
Emma grimaced as she eased it away from her marred skin. Then, steeling herself
and re-enforcing the thought that she had seen much, muchworse, Emma inspected
the damage.
It was ugly. There was at least a four inch gash in her calf and it already
looked inflamed. That would become infected very quickly. Knowing what she had
to do, Emma removed the tankard of rum from her belt. She unbuckled the sheath
of her dagger from her belt and shoved it in her mouth to bite down on when the
pain came. Then, squeezing her eyes shut, she poured the alcohol over her
injury.
The pain was immediate and burning. Had Emma not been biting down with all the
force she possessed on her dagger sheath, she felt certain her screams would
have brought the ceiling down. Her nerves in her leg were on fire and her whole
body was trembling until the pain abated enough for her to remove the makeshift
gag.
Almost as soon as she had done so, Emma chugged the rest of her tankard, then
yanked open her bedside drawer to find another. Her other injuries were not so
serious. A spear had skate off her arm earlier – it had scabbed over already
and wouldn’t likely be giving her any problems. Likewise, the cut in her finger
from scrabbling around in the gravel at the bottom of Hollow Lagoon was
insignificant.
The stitches in her side had held, thank God, and the wound on her other arm
would also heal in time. Emma sighed in relief at the receding of the pain. It
seemed like it was coming from all over her body in one relentless piercing
throbbing sensation. The rum was good, but tonight it wasn’t going to cut it.
Limping over to the portside of her Quarters, Emma pulled up a loose
floorboard. Underneath, she found the bottle she had been saving for a rainy
day like this. The Nevic vendor which had sold her this on the black market had
boasted that it was infused with dark fairy dust, which would make her redefine
‘oblivion’.
Now, Emma popped off the cork, poured herself a skin of the stuff and raised it
up to nobody in particular. “To Belle’s good health,” she toasted, ashamed that
she was consumed with her own pain like always. Then she wrapped her lips
around the opening of the skin and drank deeply.
 
It was daylight.
Emma knew this because her eyes felt like a burning volcano had just decided to
erupt behind her retinas whenever her eyelids fluttered open.
Her mouth was dry, oh so very dry. Emma tried to wet her tongue and found the
acrid taste of vomit there. She grimaced and almost gagged disgustedly. What
had happened to her?
Her leg hurt like all hell, her arms were both aching, her side felt like she
had been impaled on a stick to be roasted and the worst of the lot was her
temples… which were throbbing so hard Emma felt sure they must be vibrating.
Ever so slowly, she lifted her head up off the floor to inspect her
surroundings. She was in her Quarters, good, and alone… even better. Hopefully
that meant nobody else had been privy to the horror Emma had made of herself
last night.
Beside her there was a pool of her own vomit on the floor, as well as a little
blood. Had she re-opened her stitches? Emma panicked as she checked her side,
noticing that she was stark naked in the process. No, her stitches were still
intact – almost a miracle considering what she had put them through in the last
twenty four hours.
The smashed glass over by the porthole was what completed the story for Emma.
It was scattered all over the floor, but there were no liquid stains on the
floor so – Emma clutched a dramatic hand to her forehead – she had drunk the
whole bottle. Well that explained the nausea and the headache.
Feeling the aching stiffness in every joint, Emma hauled her throbbing,
battered body off the floor one limb at a time. She hobbled over to her dresser
and began to weakly search a drawer, looking for the bandages she knew were
stowed at the bottom. Finding what she was looking for, she tore a length and
wrapped it securely round her calf.
It was only then that she dressed herself, flinching every so often at the
taste of vomit in her mouth. When she had re-buckled her belt, Emma reached for
the canteen of water clipped there and glugged half of it. The clean fluid
washed her mouth out and it was almost a merciful sensation.
There was a loud knock on the door and Emma winced as the sound reverberated
through her head, bouncing off her temples. “Come in,” she called weakly,
remembering she hadn’t had a chance to clear the vomit and smashed glass off
the floor just yet.
Her door swung open and, it was red-streaked ebony hair and inquisitive eyes
that met her gaze, not her father, step-mother or somebody even more
embarrassing like Bug or Regina. Emma blinked twice. Hadn’t Red sustained a
head trauma? Was this a hallucination? “Are you okay now?” She croaked.
“I’m feeling much better…” Her Master Gunner trailed off as she took in the
vomit, the smashed glass and the way her Captain walked stiffly. “Belle’s
awake. She’s asking for you.”
Emma twitched as a flood of memories swept through her brain. The tourniquet
she had tied. Just a little bit longer, she had kept saying to herself. Belle…
unconscious and blue-tinged. The dagger… reflexively, Emma checked her belt.
The dagger was still firmly stowed there, thank God. She shook herself and
refocused on the present. “Is she okay? Did Bug have to…?”
“No,” Red shook her head in the negative. “But he said just twenty or so
minutes longer and she’d have been dead.”
Emma let a low exhale. She’d always known she was reckless and selfish, but
this was a new low, even for her. “I-I’m sorry… Red… I didn’t-“
Red held up her hand, coming to sit on the bed next to her. “Don’t apologise to
me. I understand a little bit about being careless with other people’s lives.
Apologise to Belle.”
Emma lingered a little on the bedspread, but after a second or two, got to her
feet. Red ushered her out the door. “Don’t worry about the mess, I’ll clean it
up. Go! Go on.”
Wondering when she had become a slave to the wills of her crew, Emma dragged
her weary feet up the steps towards deck. Wincing in preparation of being
blinded by the sunlight, Emma slipped above the surface of the ship.
She waited a second, and when it became clear she wasn’t going to be borderline
assaulted and demanded an explanation of, she scurried across the deck and down
the spiral steps towards Bug’s little medical bay.
Belle was obvious from the moment she stepped in the room. This wasn’t because
she was the only patient, although that helped, but because half the crew were
gathered around her bed murmuring words and chit-chatting. Emma cleared her
sore throat. “Alright everyone, back to your stations. I’d like a word alone
with Belle, if you please.”
Some nodded assent immediately and left. Others looked more grudging about
doing so and there were a few who even shot Emma resentful expressions on their
way out. She made note of their faces so she could track them down to talk
later and try to justify her actions. Emma didn’t blame their sudden
distrustfulness towards her – if she’d been careless with Belle’s life, who’s
to say she wouldn’t be so reckless with any other member of her crew?
But eventually, they all left except Bug. Belle levelled soulful eyes at her
and Emma fought away the guilt that clutched to her with desperate claws. “You
look like hell,” her Navigator said evenly.
“Well the nuns who raised me always said, if you can’t find solace in Christ,
find it at the bottom of a bottle,” Emma attempted to joke.
Belle raised an eyebrow. “Did they really?”
“No,” Emma sighed. “That’s just something learnt from personal experience.”
She pulled up a chair to sit beside her Navigator’s bedside. “May I?” Emma
asked, pulling down the sheet covering Belle’s injured leg. The tourniquet she
had tied was long gone, but there was still bruising all around her thigh from
where it had been. There was a neat bandage wrapped around the wound, so Emma
couldn’t see it, but it hadn’t bled through at least.
“Can you still feel your leg?” Emma enquired and wouldn’t deny the blissful
relief she experienced when Belle nodded once.
“If you’ve come to apologise,” Belle said after a time of sitting there in
comfortable silence while Emma tried to work up the courage to say two simple
words. “Don’t bother. I knew what I signed up for when I joined a pirate crew.
You did what you had to do.”
“I don’t have the right to play games with your mortality,” Emma protested,
having found her voice once more.
“We both knew what we were doing,” Belle said reasonably. “You weren’t the one
to cut me open, Captain. You were the one to save my life.”
Emma leant forward, resting her head on her hands. “How can you be so okay with
this?” She asked, muffled. She had spent every minute since Belle had first
fallen unconscious struggling with her decision to keep looking for the dagger…
and her Navigator was fine with yesterday’s events?
Belle’s fingertips danced lightly over her hair. “You forget; I love a man who
has killed repeatedly and yet feels no remorse. I love a man who is the most
wanted for his crimes throughout all lands. How can I resent you for something
so simplistic as the ‘ends justify the means’?”
Nodding, even though she still didn’t fully understand the girl’s neutral
perspective, the Captain stood up from her bedside and touched a brief finger
to her cheek. “If you want…” Emma offered tentatively. “You can go with Hook
when he takes the dagger. To persuade him to spare Rumplestiltskin. To say
goodbye. Whatever you like.”
“Thank you, Captain,” Belle smiled at her. Emma shook her head at the oddity of
forgiveness and left the medical bay.
She only got as far as the stairs before she was forced to stop. Because at the
bottom step, a Princess perched. And she looked as pissed off as Royalty could
be. “Sweet Jesus,” Emma sighed. She leant on the wall next to the staircase so
when Regina gave as good as she got, at least Emma’s back would be covered.
“Who set you free?”
“Red,” Regina replied simply. “Right before she went to knock some sense into
your aching temples.”
“How do you know…?” Emma questioned, trailing off. The only way Regina could
possibly know that she was very hung over was if… “How bad?” She quizzed
tentatively, not sure she wanted to know.
“I couldn’t understand much of what you were saying,” Regina admitted. “You
asked for forgiveness.”
Emma closed her eyes briefly, ashamed. She took responsibility for her actions
and lived with the consequences every day. She had never wanted absolution for
her crimes and had never asked for it consciously. “For what?” She asked, faux
casually.
“For Belle,” Regina shrugged. “For your son. It was odd,” a little smile
quirked at the corners of her mouth. “It helped. To know you feel some element
of guilt for the things you do.” Emma didn’t know what to say to that. But then
Regina broke the curiously tense atmosphere. “And then you danced around the
room as naked as the day you were born, bellowing some pirate ditty.”
“Shit,” Emma said, without meaning to. Betray no emotion,her mind ordered her.
Especially not the shame which is creeping up your face.
“I thought you were going to tear your stitches,” Regina confided in a stage
whisper and they both broke out in laughter, the Princess almost doubled over
and gasping for breath.
“You mean to say,” Emma choked out through sporadic giggles. “I was there in
all my glory – and all you could think about were stitches?”
The resulting laughter went on for another minute at least, until Emma found
the tears of laughter that were streaking down her face were sorrowful and the
choking in her throat was a sob, not a chuckle. Then suddenly there was a hand
in hers.
Emma looked at it, tan, delicate knuckles, tiny calluses decorating soft palms
where there should have been none. Her gaze followed long sinewy forearms and
muscles until it reached a shoulder, a delicate neck and then a face. Regina’s
eyes were still guarded but for the first time her face was open; it was asking
– no, endearing Emma to trust her.
This whole business was screwed up. Who was fool enough to get close to a
captive, a bounty? It was the mother of bad decisions.
“Can I trust you?” Her voice was disturbingly open and vulnerable. This was a
mistake. And yet she couldn’t bring herself to take it back.
Regina paused. Emma could see the indenture of her tongue running along her top
teeth. She inhaled and exhaled twice. “Why would you?” She said eventually.
“What would you entrust to me?”
Emma chuckled low, without amusement. “It’s too late,” the girl whispered.
“You’ve already seen my tears.” She couldn’t say if she trusted the Princess in
her care. It was dangerous. And Emma Swan loved danger, but not like this. Not
when it was her emotions on the line.
You’re in way too deep,her sub-conscious was screaming at her. You’re giving
everything away to this girl. If you trust her with your tears, which you
haven’t shed for anybody else in two centuries, what else will you find
yourself losing to Princess Regina?
Unthinking, Emma’s hand went to her chest, where she rubbed at the skin there,
just above her heart. “If I trust you,” she said to the girl brusquely. “You’ll
take advantage. Escape again. I may not even try to stop you this time. And the
more I trust in you, the greater opportunity you’ll get.”
She barged past Regina sitting on the step and sprinted up the steps as fast as
she could, leaving the girl behind her. She strode purposefully across the
deck, making for her father – sweet, simple Charming.
Emma needed simplicity. She needed it like oxygen, like rum and adventure. She
lived for herself and by herself. And no smug, spoilt Princess could change
that for a second.
“How far?” Emma demanded of him, leaning on the mast behind the wheel. She
didn’t look up to where Belle would normally be standing, looking out in the
crow’s nest. Not going there.
Charming was his usual commanding, serious yet caring self. “We’re less than
three hours from the map line surrounding the Sea of Monsters. Hopefully when
we clear it we’ll be out of danger and…”
“Hook will be waiting,” Emma nodded. God, she needed him right now. Things on
board the Blade right now were unnecessary complex and entangled, her emotions
were messy and unstable. Hook was a rock. He was her past, as long and glorious
as it was. He was adventure, riches, glory and infamy.
And if she saw a dejected Princess slink below deck to spend time with her son
when she took over the wheel, Emma made a good job of pretending not to care in
the slightest.
***** And Others Sail on the Sea *****
Chapter Notes
     Authors Notes: Many millions of thanks to my beta reader
     youngmachines.
     Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time does not belong to me, nor their
     characters or plots. The plot of this fanfiction belongs to
     shikabane-mai, and the artwork she drew can be found: post/
     46770603575/captain-emma-swan-and-her-former- bounty-mark
“A person's true identity can often be difficult to discern, even to
themselves, causing one to question their character, their calling, their very
existence.”– Joe Fazzio & Ted Sullivan
 
 “Captain?” Came a voice from beside her on the Quarterdeck and Emma took a
moment to curse her adventurous nature. Had she been a quiet, virtuous little
girl, she would have been ordained in the nunnery when she turned eighteen,
dead over two hundred years ago and wouldn’t be dealing with any of this crap.
But she wasn’t dead, she was steering her ship towards the border of the Sea of
Monsters and she had to face those consequences. So Emma turned to face whoever
had interrupted her quiet time which she used to plan adventures and imagine
spearheading great battles. “What’s wrong, Ella?”
“Nothing at all, Captain. Doc just sent me to tell you that everybody who was
injured is in the clear,” replied the girl. She held a bundle in her arms and
her tone was euphoric. “I was just wondering… would you like to hold my
daughter?”
“Oh, Ella,” Emma’s face broke out into a huge smile. Between Belle and the
dagger and Regina and everythingshe had almost forgotten the panic of Ella
going into labour and almost giving birth in her dodgy little dinghy. But this
reminder, that life begins as well as ends, had come at just the right moment
for Emma and she smiled beatifically down at the baby girl. “What’s her name?”
Emma asked as she carefully took the bundle in her arms, still clenching the
wheel to keep them on course with the other.
“Alexandra,” Ella smiled almost tearily. Emma cooed down at the little bundle
in her arms, stroking a tiny cheek with her fingertip.
Then she looked back up at the girl who had joined her crew only a week or so
earlier. “Ella,” she paused. “You do realise the decision you’ll have to make
soon, don’t you?”
The girl’s smile did not falter for a second as she reached for the bundle and
lifted her gently back out of Emma’s arms and into her own. “I know,” Ella
nodded. “And while you’ve been very welcoming, Captain, the whole crew too… I
just feel like I want to raise my daughter myself, somewhere safe, quiet…
peaceful.”
Emma nodded. She wanted to say that she understood, that she knew what Ella was
going through, but she didn’t. When faced with the choice herself, Emma had
given away her babe to its father without a second thought. She wanted to have
adventures and be free and none of those fantasies had ever featured a child.
They still didn’t.
 “Well,” Emma smiled, trying not to give away her inner thought process and
clapping Ella on the back. “You’re stuck with us for another forty or so days
before we arrive back at Tortuga. Or if an island of bad boys isn’t to your
taste we’ll be docking at Port Wordsworth in a couple of months. That Port is
very…” Emma searched for a word pretty enough to describe the city which
practically burst with colour and eventually settled on… “Flowery.”
“Sounds like a good place to raise a child,” Ella commented, a blissful smile
settling on her lips.
Emma gestured awkwardly at the baby. “You’re not going to need any help to
bring her up?”
“Why would I?” Ella asked simply. “She’s my daughter.”
The new mother left Emma to stew over that remark all alone. Deep down she had
always feared that she wouldn’t have been a fit role model for her son, working
in a brothel, getting pregnant at nineteen and hopping on the first pirate ship
she saw. Baelfire, she had managed to convince herself over the years, would
have been a much better father than she ever would have been a mother.
But then she saw the easiness with the way Ella handled and cared for Alexandra
and the way Regina put herself forward to protect her son, Henry, time and time
again. Henry wasn’t even Regina’s son by blood, just some ten-year-old she’d
likely found wandering around. And still, the mother-son bond between them was
strong as a diamond and just as unbreakable.
Emma thought of her own son. She imagined a little blonde five-year-old. Bae
had never told her what had made him give up his son to the Lost Boys, and
subsequently she had never known her son’s appearance, personality or even what
Bae and Rumple had named him. She had also never known what he had done in
Neverland after that for the next century, until he had come back begging for
Hook to let him sail with him again and let bygones be bygones.
Of course, the reason she didn’t know all of this was because even though Bae
had been reinstated as Hook’s Quartermaster, Emma still refused to speak to
him. For two hundred years. Hell, she still wouldn’t let anyone on board say
his name.
She knew it was overly harsh. But part of her was hugely ashamed of what she’d
done that day on which Milah had died and Emma had given away her son for a
titbit of knowledge and a favour. And Bae was partially responsible for that
and every time she saw him or heard his name, what she had done, what she had
sold came rushing back like a rush of blood to the head.
“SHIP AHOY!” Charming yelled, from the lookout post Emma had been keeping him
in the last few hours. Despite knowing Bae was close now, she knew Hook was too
and he was almost enough to balance things out. She withdrew her telescope from
her belt and extended it, pressing her eye to the glass.
“It’s the Roger!” She shouted back to Charming across the deck, as her eye
lingered on the yellow paint job and the smart black printed letters.
 
As they drew ever closer to The Jolly Roger and thus the barrier line between
the Sea of Monsters and normal land, Emma swore she could see the shimmering
wall with her naked eye. She knew that it was transparent, but it filtered
through the sunshine, which caused the very slight shimmering.
When the Blade began to pass through it, Emma winced as each wooden inch made
it through perfectly safe. Then she passed through it and perhaps she was
imagining it, but it felt strangely like she had just stepped through a very
light sheet of water. The light was brighter on the other side – how had she
not realised how dark it was in the Sea of Monsters? – and the Jolly
Roger’ssails were fluttering gloriously in the wind.
Emma steered the Blade parallel to Hook’s ship and began to call orders to
haltand throw down the anchor. The gangplank was fished out of the hold and
laid down to create an easy walkway between ships.
As always during social visits, a very pregnant Princess Aurora of Summerlands
and Autumnlands was the first to be escorted over, by a very scarlet Bashful.
Her entire crew bowed and Emma got down on one knee to kiss her hand. “Your
Highness. May I present –“
But she was cut off by the Princess on board her own vessel rushing forward to
give Aurora a fierce hug. “Aurora! How are you here? Are you pregnant? Where in
God’s name have you been?”
It was Regina, clinging fiercely. She gave the girl one last squeeze then
stepped back, grinning wildly at her. Aurora, to Emma’s eyes at least, looked
pleased to see her but the crews of both ships knew the Princess’s whereabouts
were supposed to be a grave secret. Emma cursed herself. Why had she not
thought to hide Regina below deck? Being the same age, the Princesses were
bound to have known each other in their youth.
“I think the real question is how are you here?” Aurora deflected, leaning back
into Mulan who had come up behind her.
“Captain Swan,” Regina’s tone was sardonic. “Abducted me from my hiding place
in Port Lost and is oh-so-graciously returning me to my fiancé.”
Aurora smiled in a way that showed everyone how she had enchanted both the
Prince of the Autumnlands and his personal bodyguard into loving her
unconditionally. “Emma is very gracious.”
Appreciating the compliment, even if it was said in jest, Emma tipped her hat
to the Princess. But then her attention was taken by somebody else boarding her
ship, encased in form-fitting leather and wearing a shit-eating grin.
“Emma, milove!” He called out. “You have the dagger?”
Smiling tantalisingly at him, Emma slowly removed the blade from her belt and
held it up in the sunlight, where it glinted and caught the light. Hook’s eyes
were fixated on its long jagged length as he walked over, studying every
obsidian inch. Slowly, slowly, he plucked it from her grasp, ran his eyes along
the edge and then finally sheathed it on his own person.
“You did it!” He roared quite suddenly, making everyone start. He wrapped his
muscled arms around Emma’s waist and spun her round twice in pure jubilation.
“That’s right,” she agreed in amusement as he set her down and engulfed her in
a fierce hug. “And after all these years…”
“Milah,” Hook agreed, face shining with triumph. “You’ve played your part in
avenging her now, Swan. It’s up to me to do the rest. SMEE!” On his command, an
unusually short pirate with a bright red hat scurried up. Emma rolled her eyes
in exasperation. She had hated that rat ever since Hook had plucked him off the
streets a century ago.
“Yes Captain?” He breathily enquired, as eager as ever to serve.
“As many bottles of the expensive rum from the cellar as you can carry, if you
please Mr Smee, and I suppose we should have a bottle of Summerlands wine for
the Princesses,” he swept a hand at Aurora and Regina.
“Aye, Captain!” Smee saluted and went scurrying back over the gangplank and
onto the deck of the Jolly Roger.
“Where are the rest of your crew?” Emma asked inquisitively. His Boatswain and
Navigator, Mulan and Aurora, were present as well as a few old familiar faces,
but this wasn’t even half of Hook’s pirates.
Hook grimaced. “I told them to cook up a feast worthy of your victory in
finding the dagger and put Baelfire in charge. They’ll be bringing it over
later but you won’t have to see him until then.”
“Thank you,” Emma whispered to him, just as Smee reappeared, brandishing
several bottles of assorted booze. She swiped a full tankard of rum from his
arms and waved it tantalisingly at Hook, who grinned back at her, raising a
salacious eyebrow.
“Drink as much as you want!” Emma yelled to her crew. “It’s all on my dear
Captain, here! We’ll be below…” she searched for a reasonable alternative
explanation as to what they were going to be doing. “Negotiating our reward for
finding his dagger!”
This announcement was greeted with a roar of enthusiasm from her pirates and
she couldn’t fight the wide grin that spread across her face. She grabbed
Hook’s good hand and towed him along with her to her Quarters, popping the cork
on the rum with her teeth as she went.
Victory, rum and the anticipation of some really great sex. Emma Swan was a
happy pirate.
 
Princess Regina of Springlands was an unhappy captive.
She supposed that came with the territory really, after all, who was truly
happy in captivity? For a while, she’d thought just maybe she could be for the
two months sail she had left. Henry was on board with her, and she’d get to
give him a proper farewell. She was having adventures, thrilling, life-
threatening adventures like the ones in the books which Daddy had secretly
given her when she was a teenager.
And then there was Captain Emma Swan.
Regina couldn’t quite pin down how she felt about the infuriating woman.
Although she acted in such a manly fashion, the Princess wasn’t even sure she
deserved to be described as such. It was a pity her body had been wasted on
such a masculine personality. Regina could still recall in perfect detail the
well-developed back muscles twitching as the Captain had drawn her linen shirt
over her head and then when she’d pulled her breeches down past well-sculpted
buttocks and long, toned legs... Well, Regina had felt that warm heat in her
groin that she hadn’t felt since… Daniel. Not love, no… that was the fluttering
of her heart and the twisting of her stomach. No, this was lust.
God, she wanted Swan and shame burned in her gut for admitting it even to
herself.
But she could have dealt with it. Wouldhave dealt with it.
If it wasn’t for Belle.
Not that Belle had said anything in particular to her, nor had she even done
anything which had directly resulted in a change in Regina’s feelings toward
Emma. But she had been injured, badly so and the Captain had endangered her
life trying to find this mysterious dagger.
It had been only last night that things had changed. Regina had crept down the
stairs to the Captain’s Quarters, determined to confront Emma about her part in
almost killing Belle. Some part of her desperately needed to know if the
Captain felt anything at all. She had shown no qualms in separating her from
her son. She had shown only a little compassion after Regina had re-lived that
horrific experience of her past – her breathing sped up and she blinked rapidly
trying desperately not to think about that night… nor his name. She would not
think it. Leopold. Regina winced.
She rejected memories of stubby fingers and warm breath and tried to recapture
her thought process. Yes – Emma and her feelings. Did the Captain have any?
That was what Regina had been in quest of yesterday as she crept down the
stairs to where Emma was… alone. Was she callously kicking back and relaxing
while Bug fought to keep Belle’s leg attached to her body? Was she crying alone
out of pride? Had she simply fallen asleep, too tired by the day’s events to
feel overly guilty?
What Regina had found was not even close to what she had been expecting.
Emma had launched herself at her from the second she had crept around the door
and Regina had jumped, thinking she was being subtle and knowing she had failed
at that particular skill. Then she demanded Emma get off her, before she caught
the incredibly strong alcohol on her breath. Regina could feel the onset of a
flashback but fought against it as she realised Emma posed no threat to her at
all. Too drunk to stand, almost, Emma clutched an empty bottle in her hand.
“Forgive…” Emma trailed off, frustrated at her own inability to form proper
sentences. “Forgive me.”
“For what?” Regina asked inquisitively. There were a hundred and one things
she’d like an apology off Emma for – and a hundred and one apologies she knew
that she would never hear.
“Forgive me for –“ Emma toppled over backwards, hitting the bed hard and
bouncing off onto the floor, where the bottle flew out of her hand and smashed.
“For leaving ‘im.”
“Henry?” Regina asked, recalling her brief time in the brig below deck. She had
thought that Henry was still in Port Lost, waiting for her to come home and
pining. She should have known better. He was an extremely resourceful ten-year-
old, and she was unsurprised that he had found her. Did Emma want forgiveness
for that particular sin? “I forgive you for that,” she granted.
“No, no…” Emma mumbled and Regina felt slightly offended. “My son. I don’t…
even… knowhis name,Princess.”
Regina openly gaped. Emma didn’t know the name of her own son? Of all the
things she knew that woman to have done (she shudderedto think of the amount of
blood the other woman had on her hands) that, to the Princess, was the most
deplorable.
“And!” Emma announced, evidently unfinished. “And Belle! I… she…. Could have
died!” The Captain grimaced and turned around. Regina thought it was shame –
shame for the pain, both physical and mental, she had caused herself and
others. But then Emma began to vomit.
She backed away slowly. Her question had been answered. Captain Swan did feel,
felt very strongly in fact, but hid it a long way down.
Regina needed time to think, to process what she had learned. Could she have
feelings(she shuddered internally) for a human being with so little morality?
So she had left Emma, retching up her guts on the floor.
Then when she had confronted Emma about her actions this morning, the Captain
had opened up to her for the first time ever. Regina had begun to hope that
maybe, just maybe this… whatever this was, could actually go somewhere.
But before she knew it, Emma had closed herself off again. And now she had
rushed downstairs with that hunk of meat in the shape of a man. Regina could
grudgingly admit he was handsome enough and certainly familiar with Emma… but
did he care for her at all? Did Emma even mind if he was just using her for her
body?
Regina cursed, mentally poking herself for jumping to conclusions. Emma and…
was Hook his name? It was appropriate certainly… the two of them could just be
talking, catching up, drinking.
Suddenly there was a warmth at her side in the form of a ten-year-old boy.
Regina slid an arm around his shoulders as she watched the little man in the
red hat distribute alcohol. Aurora gestured for Regina to come and join her and
she walked over to her and the menacing-looking warrior woman that stood behind
her. Henry followed her, looking a little lost and out of his depth amongst all
these people.
“Is this your son?” Aurora asked, reaching out her hand. Regina nudged him
forward and Henry caught on, bending to kiss the Princess’s hand. “What’s your
name?”
“Henry,” her son told her old friend, smiling at her. His shyness was very
uncharacteristic, but Regina put it down to being awed by real royalty. Of
course, Regina still counted herself as a Princess but knew to Henry she didn’t
count. She was just mother.
Aurora raised an eyebrow at Regina. She knew what she was thinking. Henry was
clearly around ten or eleven years old in appearance, whereas Regina was just
as obviously still in her early twenties. “He’s not biologically mine,” Regina
told her fellow Princess. “I adopted him.”
“Ah,” the Princess sighed in realisation just as the woman behind her cleared
her throat. “Oh, yes. I forgot you haven’t yet met Mulan. Sweetheart, this is
an old friend of mine, Princess Regina of Springlands. Regina, this is my wife
Mulan.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Regina tries in vain to conceal her surprise as she
shakes Mulan’s hand. “The last I heard, you were married to Prince Philip of
Autumnlands. I knew there was a civil war but…”
“You’ve been very out of touch,” Aurora nodded. “It’s understandable. Had my
father, King Midas, tried to marry me to such an obnoxious, foul ruler as
Leopold, I would have run away myself. Well…” she looked appealingly up at
Mulan. “My wife tells the tale in a much more concise manner than I.”
Looking like she understood her wife’s silent plea, Mulan nodded. “Philip’s
step mother, Maleficent, was very ambitious. When old King Walden, may he rest
in peace, died, she was determined to take over the Autumnlands at any cost. As
the eldest, Philip was set to inherit. So despite my best efforts to protect
him, she killed him slowly and torturously. However, it gave me enough time to
hide the younger son, Thomas, and Aurora.”
Regina swallowed, her grief swelling up in her gullet. She hadn’t known Philip
very well, but she knew what it was like to lose a true love. “Aurora…” Regina
reached out a hand to her shoulder. “My friend, I am so sorry.”
Aurora shook her head, smiling. “Don’t be. Philip left me something to remember
him by.” She indicated her swollen belly with a wave of her hand. Then her face
noticeably perked up as she spotted something over Regina and Henry’s
shoulders. “It’s the boys!” She exclaimed. “And they really have cooked up a
storm! Sweetheart, why don’t you go and help Bae with that platter? He looks
like he’s about to topple.”
“Bae?” Henry asked, in his preteen unbroken voice as he wheeled around, trying
to find the pirate to which Aurora had been referring. “Short for Baelfire?”
“Henry –“ Regina started, feeling a premonition in her belly that this would
not bode well for anyone.
“Father!” Henry exclaimed, catching Baelfire’s attention as he looked over
towards them. Then his eyes alighted on her son and lit up and Regina knew that
her old fears were coming to pass – Henry had found a true, biological parent.
Panic swept through her. Did adoption mean anything to this man? Would her son
still love her if he had a true father? Would he want to say goodbye to Regina
now and leave with his father rather than wait two months before she had to get
married?
The platter Baelfire had been holding slipped from his hands and splattered
food all over his clothing. But the man hardly noticed, striding over to Henry
to wrap him in a fierce hug. “Cas!” He murmured, running a hand through Henry’s
overgrown locks of hair. He pulled back roughly, grabbing the boy’s shoulders.
“What are you doing here? This is the last thing your mother and I wanted for
you! Does Emma know who you are?”
Regina felt over faced by new information. Emma? What did she have to do with
this? And who was ‘Cas’? “What did you just call my son?” She asked firmly,
trying to re-establish her own position as Henry’s current mother and
protector.
“Caspian – that’s his name,” Bae told her, confused. “Who are you?”
“Father,” Henry said smiling, trying to wiggle out from the grip Bae had on his
shoulders. “This is my mother. And my name is Henry, now.”
“Henry?” Bae questioned, looking like the sound of the name did not sit well on
his tongue. “And she’s not your mother, Cas. Sorry… Henry. Remember, I told
you… your mother’s name was Emma.”
Panic was infiltrating Regina’s veins and burrowing into her skin. Her
breathing accelerated as she voiced a very sudden, very unexpected terror. “You
don’t mean… Emma Swan? The boy she gave up centuries ago… that’s not…” Regina
shook her head in denial. “That can’t be… my son?”
Bae stood up and pulled Henry into his middle, running a hand through his hair.
“I assume you know how she abandoned him for no good reason then!”
Henry pulled back suddenly. “What? I thought you said she loved me too much to
raise me on a pirate ship and so she begged you to raise me… to give me my best
shot?”
“Why don’t you get something to eat… Henry?” Bae suggested. “Then we’ll see if
we can find your real mother. She’ll be very surprised to meet you, I’m sure.”
“Captain Swan?” Henry asked quietly. “I never thought… even though her name’s
Emma…”
“Get some food from over there, Henry,” Regina nudged him in the back. She and
Bae were going to have words, right now. He regarded them both suspiciously,
but did what they asked, joining Aurora on the other side of the deck who was
piling a mountain onto her plate.
“Now you listen to me,” Regina hissed. “I know all about the son Emma Swan gave
up. I know she feels some measure of remorse for that. I also know that she
gave him to you ten minutes after his birth and you were supposed to raise him
properly!” She spat.
Bae looked affronted. “I did –“
“Then please doexplain to me why I found him on the streets of Port Lost,
dossing for money and sleeping in the basement of an abandoned church!” Regina
yelled, no longer caring about the volume of her tirade. Most of the crew on
board the deck turned to look at them but despite her polite, well-adjusted
upbringing Regina found that she simply did not care.
“I did the best I could for Caspian!” Bae yelled back at her.
“His name is Henry!” Regina shouted, correcting him.
“Fine!” Bae roared. “I gave him to the Lost Boys, so they could look after
him!”
“A five-year-old!” Regina shrieked. “What possible reason could you have for
leaving a five-year-old with the Lost Boys! They’re a bunch of pre-teen and
adolescent trouble-makers with no conscience and certainly no child-raising
ability! You doomed him to a life of being permanently five-years-old and did
you even care?”
Henry’s biological father opened his mouth and Regina felt sure he would soon
involve fists in this fight – but she was saved by the door to the Captain’s
Quarters crashing open and a very irate-looking Emma Swan stomping up the
stairs towards where she and Bae were having their screaming match.
If Emma had been clad in anything more than her translucent linen shirt, which
barely dusted the tops of her thighs, the effect would have been a lot more
intimidating. Nevertheless, it showed off the ugly wound on her calf, which was
well on its way to healing over but still red and raw. Behind her, Hook was
making his way up the stairs and on deck, buckling his belt while he went. It
was immediately obvious to anyone looking what reward Emma had received for
finding Hook’s precious dagger.
“What the hell is going on?” Emma demanded, drawing the attention of everybody
on board away from her minimal attire and back to the fact that she was the
Captain of the vessel and capable of making them walk the plank with their
hands and feet chained together if she wanted to.
“The man you procreated with is an unfit parent!” Regina burst out, still
reeling from the knowledge that Emma was Henry’s biological mother.
“Emma – this woman had been taking all sorts of liberties with ourson! He has a
new name, a new life –“ Bae began, but was interrupted again by a yelling
Regina.
“I’m taking liberties!” She exploded. “You took liberties with his life when
you just oh-so-casually gave him away to the Lost Boys! And you,” she rounded
on Emma. “Did you condone this?”
Bae laughed derisively. “Hook told her what I had done with our precious son
when I re-joined his crew. She couldn’t give less of a fuck.” The profanity was
harsh on his tongue and Regina winced at the sheer venom of it.
“Henry…” Emma trailed off. Then Regina realised what the Captain was trying to
come to terms with.
She put it very simply for her. “Henry, although Baelfire here seems to think
his name is Caspian, is your son. And you both abandoned him, so neither of you
gets to decide what’s best for him.” She pointed her finger at her chest.
“Ido!”
Bae looked over at Emma. Regina knew what he was expecting, what they were both
expecting. A traditional Swan outburst, a declaration of ownership, of maternal
love and right. Instead, the Captain just nodded. “Alright.”
“Ems,” Bae gaped, shocked. “You’re just going to let a stranger decide for our
son?”
Emma nodded quietly and made an attempt at explanation. “I know Regina. I’ve
seen her fight for him, love him, do anything to be a good mother for him. She
loves him like neither of us were capable of doing… Neal.”
She called him by a foreign name but Regina understood why. Snow, Charming,
Red… they weren’t real names, just pseudonyms to protect the pirates. Neal must
have been Bae’s real name – his birth name. Absently, Regina wondered what
Emma’s was.
Bae shook his head and stepped back, running a hand through his hair. “Okay,”
he said. But it wasn’t derisive, it was defeated. “So he’s on you now, Regina.
How do you propose to deal with the biological parents of your son?”
Regina finally let her features soften in relief. Sure, Bae was still testing
her, but he wasn’t trying to win Henry now. He was trying to make sure that she
was a good mother and she respected that. “Why don’t you come meet Henry,
properly.” She looked around to the buffet food table, but Henry was nowhere to
be seen.
“The lad ran off when the yelling started,” a bare-chested Hook informed them
as he tucked into a chicken leg, sitting on the stairs to the Quarterdeck. His
gaze was lecherous and Regina followed his line of vision to arrive at Emma’s
exposed thighs. She rolled her eyes in disgust at his shamelessness.
“Where?” Regina asked, desperately.
“Aurora waddled off after him,” Hook waved his drumstick, finally meeting
Regina’s eyes. “She said she’d bring him back up on deck when the screaming
stopped.”
Emma chuckled. “She’ll make a great mother. Now excuse me while I go and find
some pants before I meet my son.”
Regina watched her go, happy that even though Emma wasn’t the greatest role
model in the world, she was finally getting a chance to make up for one of her
greatest sins.
 
Emma pulled on her breeches over cold legs and rubbed her hands up and down her
thighs, trying to warm them up. That had been one of the biggest bombshells she
had experienced in years. Henry, Regina’s little boy, who she would kill for…
that Henry was Emma’s real son. The Captain thought back to that night when
Regina and Henry had first tried to make a getaway in a dinghy and she and Red
had swum after them. As soon as Emma had clambered on board, Henry had been
bashing her on the head with an oar. Those were Swan genes, Emma thought
proudly.
She slipped on a pair of shoes and jogged back up on deck. The first thing she
spotted was Regina, her arm around Henry who looked a little shell-shocked.
Emma couldn’t blame him – for 250 years he’d been alone without parents, then
within the last five years he’d gained three.
She straightened her shirt, momentarily clasped her sword hilt like she was
going into battle, then went to meet her son for the second time.
***** With the Keys to the Cage *****
Chapter Notes
     Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time does not belong to me, nor their
     characters or plots. The plot of this fanfiction belongs to
     shikabane-mai, and the artwork she drew can be found: post/
     46770603575/captain-emma-swan-and-her-former- bounty-mark
“If she loved him the way she said she did, she wanted him whole. Maybe this
was what love meant after all: sacrifice and selflessness. It did not mean
hearts and flowers and a happy ending, but the knowledge that another's well-
being is more important than one's own.”– Melissa de la Cruz
 
“So,” Henry said, his face stained heavily with tear tracks. “I’ll see you
soon, right?”
It was clear to everyone who his question was directed at. Emma smiled at her
son and bestowed a quick hug on him. “Yeah, kid. You will.” She stepped back,
away from the edge where Henry was standing on the gangplank.
The Jolly Roger was ready to set sail towards Tortuga again. Hook had traded
some lucrative merchandise for a new purse of beans, which was how he’d arrived
at the Sea of Monsters so quickly. Emma felt a little used – after all she’d
risked her own life as well as that of her ship and crew to trade for one bean
– but stayed quiet. Besides, she had no idea what he’d traded for this new
purse and Hook would not tell her.
Nevertheless, his ship was ready to sail through a portal and arrive back in
Tortuga. Hook had invited her to use the portal too, to arrive back in Tortuga
two months ahead of schedule. She had shaken her head and declined. Truthfully,
she wanted this whole business over and done with. But there was the tiny
humane part of her soul that told her that the kind of abuse, the unpreventable
kind, that Regina would soon be facing should be put off as long as possible.
“Why are you turning free transportation down, lass?” Hook frowned perplexedly.
“You might get a pay rise for early delivery of that pretty Princess!”
“I need you to take Henry with you,” Emma said, diverting the conversation in a
tone that implied it was not up for discussion. “I know Bae’s not father
material now, so when this is over I’ll come back for him. Oh, and when you go
and see Rumplestiltskin…”
“I’ll give him your regards before I kill him,” Hook tipped his pirate hat to
her.
Emma interrupted him. “I want you to take Belle with you.”
Hook’s nose crinkled in confusion as he tried to place the name to the face.
“Your Navigator? What does she have to do with any of this?”
“She’s his lover,” Emma told him, then held up a hand to stop the inevitable
tirade. “I know – it’s disgusting, deplorable… she’s insane. She also loves him
and stillhelped me to find the dagger once I explained why I needed it.”
“So you think she deserves to see him die?” Hook asked her dryly, pulling on
his boat as he sat on her bedspread.
“I told her she could... if she wanted to,” Emma conceded. “She does. I don’t
think it’s wise – but if that’s what she wants, then that’s what she will
have.”
Hook rolled his eyes as he pulled on his other boot. “Letting this Belle say
goodbye to her lover. Hanging on to your little Princess for whatever reason.
Oh dear, Swan, I do believe you’re going soft.”
“Say that again and I’ll show you exactlyhow soft I am,” Emma growled at him,
drawing her boot knife – her belt still across the room where it had been
thrown in the heat of the moment.
Then conversation had descended back into casual insults, flirting and a second
round. Now Belle stood, her own maps rolled up and bundled into a container
that she wore over her back, ready to leave on The Jolly Roger…with Henry.
It had taken a lot of coercion on Emma’s part to make sure that he would leave
with Hook and Bae. Only the other Captain had understood that Henry was a
distraction – because only he understood the need to face fate head on. No,
both Henry and Regina would be better off if she knew he was safe and sound-ish
on Tortuga with his father and Hook, only the latter of which Emma actually
trusted.
Regina couldn’t understand why Henry had to go with Bae – and that was where
Emma was having problems. Because normal Regina was tricky enough to deal with
– a Regina driven mad by misery and nervous anticipation of her wedding was
going to be cataclysmic.
“Mother,” Henry turned to face the Princess and she didn’t spare his feelings,
sobbing as she crushed him in a fierce hug. If the kid didn’t know this might
be the final goodbye before, he would certainly know it now. “Mother, you’re
squeezing me to death,” the kid tried to joke, mostly serious.
“Sorry, Henry…” She released him and leant down to his level, combing stray
windswept hairs behind his ear. “I’ll always love you.”
“I love you too, mother!” Henry exclaimed, jumping forward to squeeze her
middle this time. If she didn’t know that Regina would likely never see her son
again, Emma might have even been jealous of the unconditional love the pair
obviously shared.
Hook appeared at the other end of the gangplank and extended his hooked hand
for Henry to grab. “Come aboard then, lad. Dearest Aurora has agreed to show
you the ropes.” The pregnant Princess on the deck of the other ship smiled as
Belle ushered Henry up the gangplank.
Smee lifted the plank that connected the two ships and Regina made a sudden
start towards The Jolly Roger, as if she had convinced herself that there would
be no consequences to sequestering herself away on Tortuga with her son. Emma,
who had been expecting something of the sort, grabbed her around the middle
with both arms and held her tightly to her torso.
“You bitch!” Regina yelled loudly as the crowd on deck began to dissipate. “Let
me go! Emma – let me… let me…” then the sound of her voice was absorbed into
her sobs as she turned around and buried her face into Emma’s neck.
The other ship pulled away and sailed with gaining speed towards the portal
that had just opened fifty feet away. Henry, standing on the Quarterdeck waved
forlornly at her. Then the ship went over the brink and was sucked into the
green-tinted portal.
Regina continued to shudder in Emma’s arms and made no complaint when the
Captain scooped her up and carried her below deck into her Quarters. There, she
laid the Princess on the bed and watched over her from her chair until the
other girl fell into fitful, morose sleep.
As Regina slept, Emma watched the slight curve of the small of her back, the
rise and fall of her chest and the way linen draped over it. She observed the
slight lip scar she’d never noticed before, the roundness of her unbound left
breast and the concave dip of her belly.
The whole night, sleep danced around Emma, in and out of her skin and
tantalisingly dusting her eyelids. But she did not once drift off and when
Regina came to consciousness in the morning, Emma took in her slight stretch
and yawn.
As the Princess rolled over, probably looking for her, Emma closed her eyes on
reflex and pretended to be asleep. Would Regina close her eyes and go back to
sleep, having forgiven Emma for sending her son away? Or would she creep out of
the door and make her escape?
Emma got her answer when the bed creaked quietly, the woman on top having slid
her legs off the mattress and into her leather boots. The floorboards whined
their usual complaints as Regina tiptoed over them towards her door.
“You know, I’m usually the one who sneaks out at dawn,” Emma commented, her
voice hoarse and her eyes still closed. But it had stopped Regina in her
tracks.
“I wouldn’t expect any less,” Regina replied evenly, in a way that concerned
the Captain much more than it would’ve if the Princess had lashed out. Emma
opened her eyes and found her captive unlacing the pearls that she had given
her after her nightmare about Leopold. Regina threw them down on the bed.
“After all, you’re only a treacherous pirate.”
And with that unforgiving pronouncement, she took the stairs at a jog and
finally disappeared from Emma’s line of vision.
 
For the first time since Emma had docked in Tortuga a week ago (a week as long
as a lifetime), she was able to swim that morning. Though it usually calmed her
down, long, even strokes propelling her through the lukewarm salt water, today
was different. Every stroke seemed to rile her delicate sensibilities, bring
back another fragment of Regina’s words.
Emma knew that she had made the right choice by sending Henry to Tortuga. Every
day that he had been here, it had been prolonging the agony that would be their
eventual goodbye. And now that she knew Henry was her own son, Emma did want to
spend time with him and get to know the boy a little. There had been clear
visions in her head of what would’ve happened had she allowed Henry to stay on
board. Regina might’ve tried to teach them both how to read. Emma might have
playfully sparred with Henry while Regina took notes on her techniques. And
after Henry had been put to sleep, Emma and Regina could’ve even deluded
themselves into playing happy families in her bed, too.
And with every vision of how things could’ve been, Emma found her longing grow
stronger. She wanted all of that, she did. After over 250 years of solitude,
the Captain had to come to terms with her own need for love and family.
But then that was the masochistic part of her nature. Because when Emma had
finally chosen people she wanted to love forever, she had chosen a women who,
in two months, would be locked and bolted inside the most gilded cage
imaginable. And nobody, neither Emma nor Henry, could follow her in there.
So what she had done, Emma reasoned with herself as she swam slowly around the
ship, was the best thing for everyone. Henry wouldn’t have unreasonable
expectations of a happy family unit. Regina’s cage might be a little less
insufferable, if she didn’t know how green the grass was on the other side.
Emma could continue to deny to herself that she needed anybody.
The dripping wet frame of the Captain hoisted itself out of the water and on to
the ladder ascending the side of the ship. As she climbed, Emma tried to focus
on nothing but the rope burn on her fingers and the sodden clinging of her
clothes to her body. The weather was still warm, thank God, as it was always
heated in Neverland and the Sea of Monsters. But once they sailed past
Autumnlands it would get much colder and these swims would be cut shorter and
be more painful.
On deck, Emma removed her boots and trudged down the stairs below deck to the
galley, following mostly her nose. After a week, the fresh meat would still be
good, although the bread and fruit were all gone. Emma rounded the corner and
found a good quarter of her crew imitating lap dogs; they were holding bowls
and panting. She could understand why – the scent of bacon wafting from
Granny’s stove was blissful.
“Right, you mangy lot!” Granny yelled orders like an army drill sergeant. “Get
in line!”
Emma grabbed a plate and lined up behind the rest. Sometimes being Captain gave
you special privileges – like the privilege to order anyone around. But Emma
tried to never forget (despite her two century reign over the ship) that the
position was elected, and so if she wanted to stay at the top then she’d be
best not doing things like cutting ahead in the bacon line. That was just
asking for mutiny.
Moving up in the line, Emma scanned the room for any trace of her runaway
captive. Logically, she knew she should be more worried that she had managed to
lose her but Emma knew it was her own fault. She had fucked up and badly so –
she could forgive Regina for running away from her as long as she hadn’t run
away from the whole ship.
And Regina hadn’t. She was sitting in one of the galley’s tiny chairs munching
on bacon and talking to Snow, of all people. Emma hadn’t exactly kept close
tabs on who Regina was friendly with – but she was fairly certain Snow wasn’t
one of them. Even in spite of the fact that the Princess was going to marry her
elderly father, Snow just didn’t seem to have taken to Regina at all.
But there they were, chatting away.
Emma thanked Granny absently for the slices of bacon that were slid on to her
plate and scooted in next to her runaway Princess. “What are you two talking so
intently about?” She quizzed the pair of them, munching on her meat.
“Thanks for all your help, Snow,” Regina smiled at Emma’s step-mother, glared
at her and went off to join Ella and Red, who were cooing over baby Alexandra.
Emma bit down on the bacon rind. “What the hell was that about?” She asked, her
voice muffled by all the food she had crammed in her mouth.
Snow sighed, tapping her five fingers in a quiet rhythm. Then she rose from the
table to leave her step-daughter behind. “Why don’t you ask her yourself,
Emma?” The Quartermaster enquired as she left the now very puzzled Captain to
it. Why did it seem like the whole crew was pissed off with her?
“Because they are,” Charming told her, not bothering to sugar-coat it as Emma
took over the wheel from him. “Regina’s a sweet girl, more or less the mother
of your child. And we all get why you have to send her back, Emma, but most of
us are wondering if you have to be so cruel in doing so.”
“I’m not trying to be cruel,” Emma argued back. “I’m trying to help her out. If
she’s jubilantly happy now, then her marriage is going to look like hell in
comparison. If I make her life miserable these next two months, then maybe the
next twenty years won’t be so bad!”
“And what if we get attacked tomorrow and she dies?” Charming demanded. “Life
isn’t permanent for her, like it is for us! We make long-term plans because we
have the luxury of doing so. But when Leopold dies, she won’t be young anymore.
She won’t have lived for forty whole years of her life. And she’ll be too old
for adventures and new love by then.” He paused, running a hand through his
hair. “Emma, you and I, we’re looking at an eternity of adventurous youth.
She’s looking at two months. Can you give her that much?”
Taken off guard by his reasoned argument, Emma merely nodded silently. She’d
had her reason and logic handed to her on a plate by her own father. And he was
right. Emma would never stop having adventures. Regina would be dead in sixty
years, while Emma would be celebrating her 335th birthday and not looking a day
older. Surely if she had the ability to make Regina’s brief life happy for only
a couple of short months, Emma was bound to do so?
“Actually Charming,” Emma began, her mind made up. “Would you swap steering
shifts with me? There’s something I need to do.”
 He grinned and clapped her on the shoulder, taking back the wheel from her.
“Time was, you never would have listened to my advice.”
“Shut up!” She yelled over her shoulder, making her way below deck to the
barracks of her crew. The Blade was big and mighty, in Emma’s not-at-all biased
opinion, and boasted two cabins other than her own, both of which were found on
the same floor as the crew barracks. One was always kept empty in case of
important visitors and the other was assigned to Snow and Charming. Emma
entered the latter in search of her step-mother and found her reclining on her
bedspread, going over log books from the previous month.
“All in order?” Emma asked, announcing her presence.
Snow shook her head. “We didn’t accommodate for Nova, Ella or Regina when we
decided on supplies.” She tapped her feather quill against her lip. “We’ll have
to ration more carefully. Anyhow,” she sat up, papers discarded. “I assume
you’re looking for Regina?”
“How –“ Emma started.
“You’re the most pig-headed person I know,” Snow told her bluntly, ignoring
Emma’s warning glare. “But you’re not stupid. Are you going to apologise or are
you hoping you won’t have to?”
“The latter,” Emma admitted to her step-mother. “I stand by what I did.”
Snow rolled her eyes. “I assigned her a hammock. Second row down, furthest to
the right.” Emma left her cabin. “Pig-headed,” came a whisper from behind her.
“I heard that!” Emma yelled back, striding up the rows of hammocks until she
reached the second row down. Then she began to edge her way along, past
snoozing crew and piled goods until she reached the furthest to the right.
Regina lay there, immersed in a book that Emma recognised from Belle’s shelves.
Her old navigator mustn’t have taken all her books when she had left.
“Regina,” Emma said quietly to the girl, garnering her attention. “Come with
me.”
“No,” the girl refused, not taking her eyes off the page for a second.
The Captain heaved a sigh; she had hoped that she wouldn’t have to do this,
but… “I’m sorry for taking Henry away from you... again.”
Regina’s eyes glanced over at her and a tiny smile crossed her lips. “You’re
not. You stand by it… I heard you talking with Snow.” She returned to her book.
“Anyway, that’s not why I’m angry with you.”
Emma frowned at her. Using her hands to balance herself, she hoisted herself
into the Princess’s hammock so their legs entangled and they sat facing one
another. “Why are you angry then?”
The book in Regina’s lap was snapped shut loudly and the girl leaned forward,
ire in her eyes. “I am angry, because you asked me to forgive you for giving
your son away the first time. And not a day after you found him again… you sent
him off with his father…again. So do you really feel guilt, Captain? Or are
your feelings just some kind of act,” she spat the last word, cheeks flushing,
breathing increasing in rate and pupils dilating.
Emma was captivated.
“I feel,” she whispered, so softly the words were almost inaudible. She slowly
reached out her right hand until she could cup Regina’s cheek in her palm. Her
skin was warm and soft, although Emma could feel her cheekbones even when just
brushing her hand there.
“You don’t –“ Regina started, still breathing heavily. “You can’t – I’m angry
at you!”
Emma smiled the smile of one who is rich in the knowledge that they are in the
right. “I’ve proven you wrong. Sending Henry away… I did it for you, not for
me.” She paused in her caresses of her captive’s cheek, capturing her eyes to
make absolutely sure Regina was following. “As soon as you are married, I will
be returning to Tortuga to look after him – to be his mother. I thought, if you
said goodbye to him now, you’d have more time to prepare yourself for being
married to an absolute bastard. Whereas if your son was here… I know you’d be
worrying about how all of this,” Emma swept her hand around vaguely, indicating
them both. “Would affect him.”
She could feel the Princess searching her eyes, perhaps trying to find some
trace of bad intent or misdirection. Emma opened herself up and let her look,
as uncomfortable as it made her. Charming was right – this relationship,
whatever the hell it was, had an expiration date. Which meant they could both
enjoy it as much as they wanted without anybody (Emma) fearing the long-term
consequences.
“Why are you telling me this now?” Regina asked her, softly. The Captain
thought that she caught the underlying question… do you trust me now?
Instead, Emma gave the only answer she could and leaned into the Princess,
pressing their lips together in the chastest of kisses. To Regina, it would
seem like some declaration of emotion; affection, maybe love if the Princess
was feeling optimistic. To Emma, it was a declaration of intent.
“If you let me,” Emma said carefully, making sure her words wouldn’t be
misconstrued. “I’ll make these last two months the best months of your life
before you’re locked in that gilded cage you’re so afraid of.” Her hand trailed
away from Regina’s face and down the side of her throat, to where her collar
bone stood out sharply against tan skin.
Regina let her eyelids flutter close in response to Emma’s touch. Silently, she
nodded affirmative. “I’ll let you.”
Emma dragged her knuckles back up her neck and brushed the pad of her thumb
over the scar on Regina’s lip that she had noticed the night before. “Not
here,” she murmured. “Will you come with me now?” She swung her legs off the
hammock and dismounted with grace.
Regina hesitated, swallowing. Emma had to remind herself – this was only the
Princess’s second such experience with these matters and the first had been…
well, far from pleasant. Hesitantly, and nearly as uncertain as Regina, she
brought the girl’s hand to her mouth and kissed it gently. “I promise I won’t
hurt you.”
“Okay,” Regina agreed, quietly, placing her other hand in Emma’s left and let
the Captain assist her down from the hammock. The walk from the forecastle
where the hammocks were situated to the Captain’s Quarters was relatively
brief. Emma walked in front, arousal burning low in her belly as she imagined
possible outcomes of this little sordid rendezvous. But she could feel Regina’s
hand sliding against hers, the Princess’s palm was a little inelegantly sweaty
with nerves but Emma couldn’t mock her for it.
Emma made for her bedspread as she entered her Quarters, instinct taking over,
well-practiced as navigating these sorts of liaisons with Hook and occasionally
Red. It was only when she glanced behind her that she saw Regina leaning
against the doorpost, feigning nonchalance.
Sighing and pushing her hair back off her face, Emma approached her soon-to-be
lover and cupped her face, placing a brief kiss on her lips. “I don’t know how
to do this,” she admitted softly.
“Really?” Regina quirked an eyebrow. “Because from the attire you and Captain
Hook were wearing yesterday…”
“Not this this,” Emma laughed, breaking the weird tension between them. She
flushed a little. “Make love. I haven’t in… a long time. Since Henry was born.”
“Then what do you do with Hook?” Regina asked curiously. It was a legitimate
question, Emma knew. Being raised as a Princess, the Heir Apparent to the
throne of the Springlands… it didn’t allow exposure to the life which Emma had
lead.
“I don’t love Hook,” Emma said, bluntly. “This is going to sound fucked up, but
he’s my family. We’ve been together so long now, companions, brothers in arms…
it seems strange to me to know somebody unrelated to you so intimately and
notsleep with them.” She paused, as if knowing that she was screwing up her
pathetic attempt at an explanation. “I lovedHenry’s father,” Emma eventually
decided on. “What we had was special. We made love to one another and conceived
a child. You understand that, right?”
Regina nodded, looking confused. Emma couldn’t blame her – never before had she
had to explain the difference between love-making and fucking to somebody whose
belief system could really only comprehend the former. And she had the feeling
her explanation was severely lacking.
“Hook, Red…whores,” Emma admitted grudgingly. “That’s pleasure... fucking.
That’s not love.”
The Princess, who could be counted on to wince at her every profanity,
flinched. “And… this. What do you want… from this?”
Emma almost chuckled at how the other girl was unable to bring herself to swear
but stopped herself just in time. Feeling that she was being mocked would just
worsen her self-esteem. “I don’t love you,” she told her honestly. “But I care
about you. I want to make you feel good. It’s the least I owe you, after…
everything.”
“You feel like you oweme?” Regina demanded, looking indignant.
Shit, that had come out wrong. Emma tried to rectify her blunder. “No, Princess
– I’m burning for you.” With anybody else but the virginal Regina, she would
have brought their hand to her crotch and let them feel the wetness there. But
with this girl, she could only brush her tan, slim fingers against her flushed
cheek. “Just remember I want this to make you feel good,make you feel alive.”
Emma reiterated. “The second you want me to stop, I will… okay?”
Regina nodded hesitantly, and the Captain moved in to kiss her once more. This
time she let her lips linger and when the Princess started to sub-consciously
push back against her, that was when she flicked her tongue across her lips.
Almost unknowingly, Regina’s mouth opened beneath her and Emma began to
carefully plunder it, as gentle as she had ever been with a lover. Even in her
own innocence, she had never been quite as pure as this.
And knowing that she was as good as Regina’s first stoked the low burn in her
belly.
Emma wanted to test the girl’s boundaries, nip a little, introduce her teeth to
Regina’s throat as she moved down. But common sense told her that, with the
Princess’s past sexual history, that would not be a good idea. Instead, she was
softer and gentler than she had ever been before, touching Regina like she
might shatter if handled wrongly.
Their kiss broken, Emma began to walk them back towards the bedspread, keeping
Regina distracted from their destination by running her hands up and down her
back. She sat the girl down with a thump and encouraged her to lay back the
best she could without forcing her.
It was so new and difficult to navigate; if she had triggered a flashback in
Regina just by lying on top of her with alcohol on her breath… how easy would
it be to trigger one during sex? Emma silently promised herself not to
penetrate the other girl – terrified that she would force her back to that
horrific place in the darkest corner of her mind.
So she faced no other option but to make love to her.
All along Emma had known it would be the only way. Sex came in a thousand
different flavours and she was a fan of most; but rape was definitely at one
firm end of the spectrum, while love-making was in the most opposite possible
corner. To make Regina remember the good experiences rather than the bad,
Emma’s only choice was to love her.
It wasn’t such a hardship, she mused as she crawled up next to Regina, who was
trying hard to conceal her body’s trembling. “Shh…” Emma whispered. “You know
you can trust me.”
Really, she couldn’t. Emma had no idea why Regina had innate faith in her, only
that when it came to this, there was no way she could let her down. She mouthed
her way softly down Regina’s gullet and sucked ever so gently on her prominent
collar bone. Would leaving a mark bring back old memories of bruises? Emma had
no way of knowing, and so she was careful to leave Regina as flawless as the
way she had found her.
Some things however, could not be avoided, and the principle culprit there was
nudity. Emma brought calm hands to the ties of Regina’s linen shirt and had
just loosened the first one when her wrist was caught and held away. “You
first.”
It was a request which Emma wasn’t even in a position to argue with, so she
straddled Regina’s hips with her own, watching her eyes carefully to make sure
she wasn’t flashing back. She lifted her hands to her linen shirt and quickly
undid the ties, pulling the whole garment over her head and off. Then her
leather breast bindings were only in the way, so she quickly undid the ends and
unwound the whole thing, dropping it off the side of the bedspread.
The breeches required slightly more manoeuvrability, so Emma kneeled up to
unlace them and slide them down and off her calves, along with her leather
boots. Then there she was, knees parted either side of Regina’s thighs, utterly
bare before her.
It was always gratifying to observe lust for her well-kept form – and Regina
was no exception. Perhaps she was even a special case, because her interest
wasn’t at all well-concealed. Nor should it be, Emma thought wryly to herself.
Regina had the Captain naked above her, all because of natural beauty and a
guilty conscience.
“May I?” Emma asked, hands again lingering by the ties of Regina’s linen shirt.
She was well aware that the Princess had seen her naked before – by the lake
and then again later on that day when she had been so drunk she could barely
see straight. Whereas Emma had yet to be treated to the knowledge of how far
Regina’s naturally tan skin extended.
The Princess licked dry lips but seemed to find herself incapable of speech as
she opened her mouth. Instead, she just nodded. Emma kept her eyes locked on
Regina’s as she unlaced her shirt. Flat, warm and callused palms slid up her
concave belly, taking the shirt with it. She encouraged the brunette to sit up
slightly so she could slide the garment all the way off. And then, obstruction
finally disposed of, Emma took in Regina’s exposed breasts at last.
They were almost perfectly spherical, a little lighter than the rest of her
soft skin and topped with dusky, now erect, nipples. Whining a little, Emma
ducked to take one peak in her mouth. Regina let out a keen of what sounded
like pleasure, but could have been surprise at her boldness. Emma sucked as
hard as she dared, trying to bring her captive pleasure, but not at the cost of
bringing back old memories too. She flicked over the hard nub with her tongue
and Regina’s hand twisted in her hair as her hips bucked.
Emma grinned to herself. All of a week ago, she had judged the body of her new
prisoner, knocked out and prone on the bedspread of the inn. She had mused to
herself, guessing that the Princess would be beautifully responsive, assuming
that she was a virgin. Well, she had been wrong about the virgin part, but
Regina was making sounds that Emma had come to associate with whores feigning
pleasure – but she knew the Princess was entirely genuine in expressing what
she feeling.
Any kind of noise during sex usually pissed Emma off. It was distracting and
always sounded so fake, but she could forgive Regina. Ironically, after two
hundred and seventy five years of living, Emma had never slept with an
innocent. There was something almost liberating about it, watching somebody
feeling the burn sated properly by another’s hand for the first time.
Emma reached out her left hand to Regina’s other nipple, rolling the bud
between the rough pad of her thumb and her forefinger. Then she released both,
one with a wet pop and quickly assessed whether Regina was ready for the next
step. Her body was, desperately searching for the stimulation it needed to be
carried over the edge; her hips were bucking and she was arching her back
without knowing what it was she was looking for.
But it was the Regina with all that baggage Emma looked for – was she ready?
The Captain would never know unless she took the initiative. She planted open-
mouth kisses down her sternum and over her abdomen until she reached her
breeches – the last frontier.
And then suddenly and unexpectedly, there were hands already there, hurriedly
unlacing Regina’s breeches and pulling them down too-slim thighs. “I swear to
God, Emma Swan,” the Princess hissed, pushed into indignity. “If you don’t
touch me, I’ll… I’ll-“ But she was saved from having to create a threat by Emma
abruptly sucking her clit into her mouth.
“Emma!” Regina screamed, prolonging her name and her hips bucked and twisted
wildly. The Captain stared in awe at just how reactive Regina’s body was and
stiffened her tongue, slowly licking all the way up her centre and over her
hyper-sensitive clit. It was more than enough to send the Princess over the
edge as she thrashed and wailed on Emma’s bed, coming undone.
The Captain crawled back up her body to lie next to her, the feeling of sweaty
skin against her own not at all unpleasant. She pulled Regina into her and
wrapped a muscled bicep around her concave belly.
Then something occurred to her. She hopped off the mattress and rummaged
through the pockets of her breeches, trying to find what she had placed there
earlier… “Aha!” Emma proclaimed, holding up the string of pearls Regina had
discarded in her bedchambers earlier that morning. She wiggled her way back
next to the curves of the Princess’s arms and tied the pearls around her neck
once more. Regina gave a little whine of what sounded like satisfaction.
Emma closed her eyes to sleep soundly, satisfied with a job very well done.
And then… “I love you,” Regina mumbled.
***** And the Devil to Pay *****
Chapter Notes
     Author’s Note: Having received a lot of negative feedback, I would
     just like to remind you that I know Emma is a rude, ignorant asshole.
     I wrote her that way on purpose. And she’s probably going to get even
     worse before she gets better.
     Warning: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS STRONG INFERENCE OF RAPE. PLEASE SKIP
     IF THIS IS A TRIGGER.
     Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time does not belong to me, nor their
     characters or plots. The plot of this fanfiction belongs to
     shikabane-mai, and the artwork she drew can be found: post/
     46770603575/captain-emma-swan-and-her-former- bounty-mark
The days began to blur past Emma. One day, before the crack of dawn, she pulled
Regina out of bed and ordered her up on deck. Emma spent twenty minutes showing
off her well-honed racer’s dive under the pretence of teaching her some good
techniques. It was only after her sixth dive that Regina told her she could
already dive.
Another afternoon, after Emma had surrendered the wheel of The Bloody Blade to
Grumpy, she handed Regina a sword and cleared a circle on deck for practice. To
start with, Emma had her imitating various stances – defensive, mostly. Then
they began to spar gently, Emma often stopping to correct the Princess’s stance
or teach her the block for a certain strike.
But she wasn’t Regina’s only tutor during those long, hot afternoons. Sometimes
her father would step in, taking Regina’s hand and guiding it in a furious duel
against Emma’s own blade. Often, a sweaty Regina would sit down with a canteen
of water and watch while she and Charming went at one another enthusiastically.
After all two centuries of knowing each other, duelling to within an inch of
each other’s lives was still their favourite way to bond.
Once, Emma had dropped Regina off with Red under instructions to teach her how
the cannons worked. But when she had come back two hours later, both women were
almost entirely stripped down from the exertion. Emma resented the lechery in
Red’s eyes and had swiftly guided the Princess back upstairs.
One day, Emma had handed over the reins to her subordinates and made herself
and Regina a part of the crew. She had taught her how to tie off a line, how to
loose the sails and how to tell port from starboard. That evening, they had sat
out on the Quarterdeck for an eternity with a bottle of rum for Emma, while the
Captain showed her how to tell which way the wind was blowing and how to smell
a storm on the breeze.
But it wasn’t only Regina becoming educated in her attempt to live as fully as
possible before she was forced back into her gilded cage.
The Princess was determined that Emma would be literate by the time the
Bladewas docked at Port Wordsworth. She was pleased to learn that Emma knew
some primitive letters (N, E, S and W) but had her tracing many odd characters
on paper. They spent long, tricky hours going through books Belle had left
behind, Regina choosing saucy passages in an affectionately misguided attempt
to make it more interesting for Emma.
But evenings were the most interesting time of all.
On one of her exploratory sessions through the ship, Regina had found a lute. A
blushing Bashful had admitted to being able to play and Regina had situated him
on the steps to the Quarterdeck with instructions to play a melody which Emma
had never heard of before.
“Hey!” She had protested as Regina had dragged her to the spot where they had
been duelling and sweating with swords that afternoon. “I have been to balls
before, you know!”
“One or two at most,” Regina pointed out. “And I’m willing to bet you wore a
scowl and the most outrageous gown you could find, and then refused to dance.”
“How would I thieve the ladies’ pearls if I didn’t dance?” Emma enquired
innocently, as Regina placed her hands at her waist.
“Don’t you dare even think about thieving mine!” Regina warned her off.
Emma naturally took the lead of the dance, guiding Regina through a series of
graceful steps. She wasn’t a perfect dancer by any stretch of the imagination
but she knew her way around a very simple waltz.
“Where did you learn to do this?” Regina asked, once again surprised by Emma’s
proficiency in unexpected areas, especially considering she couldn’t even read
or write.
“Funny story, actually,” Emma said, reminiscent. “It was the night before I had
to formally return the Sceptre of Spring to the doddering old fools in the
Springlands court. I had Red and Charming with me because it was, oh…” the
Captain thought hard. “Twenty or so years before Snow joined the crew, so Red
was still my Quartermaster.”
“Snow only joined your crew –“ Regina’s face twisted as she did the sums in her
head. “28 years ago? Wow – what’s the age difference between her and Charming?”
“Two hundred and ninety seven years,” Emma admitted. “Bigger than ours, even…”
Her hand dipped dangerously low down Regina’s back, brushing the globes of her
ass.
Regina frowned at her. “People watching,” she cautioned her. “Continue with the
story, if you please.”
“Anyway,” Emma shook her head and grinned shamelessly at her lover. “We’d just
been informed that there would be a ball to celebrate the Sceptre’s return and
we were the guests of honour – so naturally we would have to dance.”
Regina winced. “Let me guess – all three of you boasted two left feet.”
“Not quite,” Emma shook her head. “Charming was up all night trying to teach us
the dances we would need. The ball went off without a hitch… for the most
part.”
“Come on then, Swan,” Regina challenged her. “How did you ruin the occasion?”
Emma studied the Princess and tried to decide how much detail was too much
detail. Eventually she decided on an explanation both concise and family-
friendly. “I met a very lovely woman whose name was, I remember, Lady Hermione
of Bullcross. She was in an arranged marriage and unhappy about it, but before
I could do more than flirt, her husband turned up. Well, he was a nasty bastard
and wanted to duel me to the death… ”
The Princess’s eyes widened perceptibly. “Who won?” She demanded.
Shrugging, Emma twirled her round. “It was a draw. Though I did extract three
cows, a sword and a contract of marriage to the next female heir to Bullcross…
though I doubt I’ll ever have cause to use the latter, considering I managed to
seduce the Princess of Springlands herself.”
Regina giggled. She pulled the Captain in closer than was strictly appropriate.
“So you managed to stay out of our jail on that occasion, then? Are you a
criminal anywhere else?”
“I’m wanted in two different lands,” Emma murmured. “And not for my body. For
theft and conspiring to overthrow the monarchy, respectively.”
“Conspiring to overthrow the monarchy?” Regina asked inquisitively. “Should I
be worried?”
Emma let out a bark of laughter. “It was a bullshit charge. Our lovely friend
Queen Maleficent of Autumnlands tried to hire me to find Prince Thomas, who by
all accounts went into hiding when the Queen killed his brother. I refused; she
fabricated the worst charge she could conceive of – treason.”
 “How did you escape?” The Princess questioned breathily.
But just then, the music grounded to a halt and Emma drew back to kiss her
hand. “I’ll tell you one day,” she promised. The Captain withdrew from the
deck, where various pirates had begun to dance to the lively jig that Bashful
struck up.
“Emma!” Regina called after her, but the Captain merely slid through a door and
disappeared. Once on the other side, she breathed a sigh of relief.
Emma had been doing her very best to make Regina’s numbered days enjoyable and
thrilling – so they would last her perhaps all her life. But all the while,
what she had said to Emma that night when she had first fucked the Princess…
Emma couldn’t seem to forget it. And whenever she was around Regina, she felt
oddly stifled and yet… happy.
Her fist hit the wall with a thump as the Captain gnashed her teeth in
frustration. She didn’t want the Princess’s love and certainly hadn’t done
anything to deserve it. What if Regina expected her to give up her bounty,
change her mind so that the two of them could sail the seas together… forever.
Whimpering, Emma slid down the wall so she could duck her head between her legs
in shame.
The worst of it all, though – was that Emma wanted to. She wanted to be
nauseatingly in love and say “don’t worry, darling… I won’t let them take you
away from me.” She wanted tales written of the dread pirate Emma Swan falling
under the spell of the beautiful Princess Regina and how they lived their
fairytale existence somewhere out there on the seven seas.
She punched the wall again and pain shot through her wrist. She wouldn’t do it,
wouldn’t submit. She was Emma Swan, for fuck’s sake; she kept her own parents
at arm’s length and stole from the rich to give to her crew. She had never ever
needed anybody, not since Bae, and Princess Regina was not going to change
that.
Satisfied that her resolve would hold (at least for now, a little voice
whispered), Emma got up off the floor and sat at the desk of the little annex
she had locked herself away in. It had been Belle’s map room, previously. But
as her Navigator was no longer with them, the task of plotting a route had
fallen to Emma… and it had been a long time since she had been forced to do
such a thing. She had forgotten how much illiteracy impeded the process of
route-plotting and, though Regina’s lessons were helping, Emma couldn’t hope to
make progress quickly.
Unrolling the first of the maps, she settled in for a long night.
 
An hour in, the door was flung open. It was a very drunk, unsteady Grumpy, who
pointed at her with his rum tankard. Red stood behind him, looking no less
inebriated, but somehow managing to carry a whole stack of flagons and skins.
“You!” Grumpy shakily indicated her. “Never have no fun no more!”
He shut the door behind Red, who dumped both the pile of receptacles and
herself on the floor. Grumpy fell to the ground next to her, feeding greedily
on his tankard.
“Cut loose, Capt’n,” Red slurred. “Maps can wait. ‘Til sunrise.”
Emma cocked an eyebrow at both of them. “If I drink as much as you two
obviously intend me too, I’ll be more preoccupied with how to cut off my own
head at sunrise.” Nevertheless, she seated herself next to Red and helped
herself to a skin.
What was it she had told Regina about her drinking, that night when she had her
chained to the railings… still an untrustworthy, manipulative captive? Oblivion
is always better than pain. It was ironic; pain then was the loss of love – the
loss of Bae and her son. Pain now was living with love, knowing that she would
break the heart of an innocent.
But would it be any better?Emma asked herself. If I let her think that I love
her?
No… she decided. The truth hurts… but living a lie would hurt a lot more.
And so Emma began to down her first skin of the night, her only intent to erase
the pain of indecision from her mind.
 
There was a knock on the door that cut through the indigo-coloured haze in
Emma’s mind. She tried to stumble to her feet, but could only manage to get on
to her knees. Slowly she made her way over to the doorway and mumbled something
that sounded vaguely like “come in” to her toxic, jumbled brain.
The door slid open a crack and Regina’s tan face, pale in only the moonlight,
looked down at her. Emma couldn’t see her expression from on her knees, but
even in her animalistic state could deduce that the Princess was unhappy with
her.
“Hey,” she smiled up at her from the floor, going for charming or seductive,
whilst all the time knowing she must be a sight for sore eyes.
Regina said nothing, but crouched down to put an arm around her torso and hook
her wrist under Emma’s left armpit. Then she hoisted her to her feet, which –
much to Emma’s surprise – she could still feel. And still, the Princess was
silent as she helped her back up on deck, across it and back down a set of
stairs into her bedchamber.
Indeed, her first words were merely “drink some water.” She held out a full
canister of the liquid, which Emma batted to one side. It spilled all over the
floor and Regina sighed in exasperation. “What is wrong with you?” She
demanded.
“What?” Emma mocked. “Don’t love me when I’m drunk?”
Regina noticeably recoiled and the Captain flopped down on her bedspread,
trying to crawl up to where soft pillows were, but not having much success.
“Why are you doing this?” The Princess asked, so quietly Emma could barely even
catch the words. She recalled the girl had seen her this drunk before, after
Belle had nearly died because of her. Emma suspected that that evening, she had
been very flirtatious rather than very rude and the change was a bit of a shock
for Regina. Sighing, she rolled over onto her back.
“I care about you,” Emma informed her, unable to control the flow of words from
her mouth. “Doesn’t mean I love you. Or that I’ll save you. ‘Cos I won’t.”
Regina looked down at her, but somehow the Captain still held all the power in
this exchange. “I know,” the girl informed her, shy as a mouse. “I don’t expect
–“
“Don’t you?” Emma asked her thickly, shuffling along to the end of the bed and
meeting Regina’s eyes. “Do you know that when you’re married I won’t think
about you? Won’t care about you? You may pop out a couple of infants and I’ll
hear about it on my travels and remember those nights I spent fucking the Queen
of Winterlands –“
Crack. Emma had felt the sting of the slap on her cheek... hard.
“Stop,” Regina pleaded. Her hands were combing through Emma’s hair and she
pressed a desperate kiss to her mouth. “Please… just stop.”
“Why?” Emma taunted her. “Because you love me?”
Regina’s hands seemed to act of their own accord, smacking Emma’s shoulders and
pushing her back down on the bedspread. “Shut up!” She yelled, covering the
Captain’s body with her own. “Shut up,” she pleaded, squeezing her eyes shut.
“You don’t want to hear my words?” Emma enquired, breathing alcohol into
Regina’s face. “Get out!”
Instead, she found her chest suddenly bared to the Princess’s eyes as the girl
ripped her shirt open. Then just as quickly, her breeches were torn from her
legs and Regina was pressing against her crotch, hard. “Ouch!” Emma yelped,
trying to scramble back from her touch but finding herself pinned. Then three
fingers, with no warning whatsoever, sank into her body and started pounding at
her core.
“Stop,” Emma ordered the Princess. “Regina! Stop!”
“Don’t worry, Captain,” the girl growled back. “I’m sure a dirty whore like you
has had it much rougher than this.”
Then with a startling and clarifying realisation, Emma realised what was going
on. Role reversal. Her own words had put Regina back in a place of
powerlessness and the alcohol on her breath, which had previously triggered a
flashback had this time triggered… this. Did Regina even realise what she was
doing? Was this what it had been like for the newly-engaged scared little girl
who had been forced to entertain a King in his bedchamber?
If Emma had been a naïve, virginal seventeen-year-old, what Regina was doing
now probably would have terrified her too. But she wasn’t, she was approaching
her 276th birthday and Regina was right, she had done it much rougher than
this. And she knew how to find pleasure in it, unlike a seventeen-year-old
would.
Her pale hand reached up to wind itself harshly into the Princess’s hair and
she brought her head down for a kiss. Regina’s fingers were chafing her pussy
raw, so Emma reached down between their bodies so she could make it a little
less painful by circling and stroking her clit. Gradually, between her own
ministrations and the way Regina sucked on her tongue, the penetration felt
less bluntly painful.
Emma could pinpoint the exact moment Regina realised who she was and what she
was doing because she stopped kissing Emma and lost her balance, falling on the
bedspread next to her. All of her fingers were suddenly withdrawn from her
channel and Emma suddenly felt rather empty. Then the Princess began to sob and
she tried to forget her own arousal, placing a callused hand on the girl’s
shoulder. “Regina-“
“Don’t touch me!” The girl shrieked as she curled herself into the foetal
position. “I – I tried to…” she spluttered.
“Regina,” Emma placed a soft kiss on her shoulder. “Look at me.”
The Princess refused, curling herself into an even tighter ball, if that was
even possible and let out a shaky sob. “Regina,” Emma tried again. “I love
you.”
“No you don’t,” the girl replied, her voice muffled in her thighs. “If you
loved me, we wouldn’t still be sailing towards Port Wordsworth.”
Emma let out a long, frustrated sigh and shook the Princess’s shoulders, hard.
“I forgive you!” She burst out and Regina unfurled herself, with wide eyes.
“Don’t forgive me!” Regina begged her, still sobbing with guilt. Emma wrapped
her arms around the Princess’s torso and lay on her side, holding her until she
cried herself out and fell into a fitful sleep.
Emma traced a finger along the curve of her shoulder. When had life become so
messy?A month ago she had been just another average pirate. A longer lifespan
than most, perhaps, but a looter, smuggler, killer…
She slowly withdrew her arm from where she had pulled Regina into her form and
slipped out from under the sheets and blankets. She padded across the wooden
floor, stopping only to grab her brown overcoat from where she had dropped it
on the floor. Emma stuffed her arms through the sleeves and pulled it around
her mostly naked form – Regina had ripped the shirt from her body and her
breeches had been tossed somewhere unknown.
She shuffled up the steps towards the deck, keen to feel the sobering cold
night air on her face. On deck, in solitude, everything felt simpler. Emma
climbed the stairs to the Quarterdeck, but stopped suddenly, hearing the sound
of voices arguing softly.
It was Charming and Snow. Her father, she remembered, was on shift for manning
the wheel. But what was her step-mother doing there in the wee hours? Emma
strained her ears, trying to listen in on their debate, which wasn’t too hard
as the volume of their voices was increasing by the second.
“You’re insane!” Snow’s voice scoffed. It was a mockingly derisive statement
and it was so unlike her step-mother that Emma had to restrain herself from
checking it was actually her, and not some impersonator.
Charming interrupted. “I’m not insane, sweetheart. I’m sick of being pursued by
my father and the Nevic Navy buffoons. Don’t forget – we have Henry to think of
now, too.” Emma’s brow furrowed – why did they have to think of Henry? As his
mother, wasn’t that her job?
“You are not thinking of Henry!” Snow exclaimed. “If we do as you so
ludicrously suggest, there’s a good chance we will both be killed and then what
will that boy have left? Only Emma and God knows who she’ll choose to help her
look after him! Henry will stay on board this very ship forever and learn to
steal, pillage and murder!”
Emma saw red, and yet still managed to stay down. Her own parents thought she
was incapable of caring for a child? And what the hell was Charming’s plan?
“But if we succeed - !”
“If we succeed,” Snow conceded. “It’ll be brilliant. Fantastic. Perfect, even.
You’ll be King David I of Neverland and I’ll be –“
“Queen Mary I,” Charming said firmly. “The only rightful heir to the throne of
Winterlands.”
Emma gaped at the open air. They weren’t seriously considering… did her parents
want to invade and take over Neverland?
Snow laughed from the Quarterdeck. “David!” She exclaimed, which was how they
all knew he was in trouble. David was Charming’s real name, which was only very
rarely heard on board. “I am not, nor will I ever be the rightful heir to the
throne of Winterlands. I am illegitimate! Just as Emma and Henry will never be
in line to the throne of Neverland… because they are also illegitimate! You’re
living in a delusion that we’re all royalty and deserve to be living in
grandeur!”
Emma’s head sank to her knees. So that was what the fight was really about.
Although all three of them (Charming, Snow and Emma) had royal blood, only
Charming knew what it was like to actually be a royal. He had been the beloved
Prince of his land for seventy years before he had fathered Emma and had run
away with half the royal coffers to become a pirate.
Neither Snow nor Emma had been so lucky. Snow’s father was King Leopold of
Winterlands, Regina’s fiancé and by most accounts, a nice man. Emma, knowing
how he had refused any kind of relationship with Snow and how he had raped
Regina, was of the opposite opinion. He had cast Snow (or Mary-Margaret then)
out from his family as soon as she was born and she had joined Emma’s crew at
the first opportunity.
So Snow was right. Charming was delusional. None of them deserved luxury, much
less a crown.
“Charming,” Snow said softly, after long moments of silence. “Somebody’s
listening in.”
In a brief burst of panic-fuelled adrenaline, Emma slid silently off the side
of the stairs to the Quarterdeck and curled herself up in a ball in the
shadows. Charming stomped past with his usual graceful subtlety.
Emma sat there, drowning in her own thoughts and concerns. Her primary concern
was for the mental faculties of her father; how could he be so irrational to
think that an invasion of Neverland would be a good plan? But what really hurt
deep down was Snow implying that Emma would be a bad parent to Henry. Granted,
she knew she wasn’t the best role model on the seven seas… but neither were
Snow nor Charming! They all killed, looted, fucked… her father and step-mother
just happened to be married in the meantime.
Hearing no more sound from the Quarterdeck and hoping she was safe to move,
Emma slid down the steps and into her chambers. Since the door had been blown
off by the Nevic Navy, she had put up a sheet to protect her privacy. In this
case it was a blessing, considering a door would’ve creaked and given away to
Snow and Charming that she had been listening intently to their argument.
Emma got up off the floor and dusted off her brown coat as she re-entered her
own chambers. She hadn’t been prepared for crouching in dusty corners whilst
eavesdropping and was shivering as she dropped the coat to the floor. Her naked
form bared once more, she slid under the covers and lay next to her lover.
Regina was warm but rather than doing the instinctual thing and wriggling away
from Emma’s ice-cold body, she snuggled in so she was the little spoon, warming
all of the Captain’s limbs.
“Where did you go?” The Princess asked sleepily.
Emma contemplated the long strands of brunette hair spread across her pillows,
the warmth of their shared body heat and the flutter of fondness in her heart
for the mother of her child. Then she did something quite out of character.
Emma leaned in to kiss Regina on the forehead – an unnecessary display of
affection.
“Just for some fresh air,” Emma reassured her. “Don’t worry.”
Then she wrapped her arm back around her lover and wondered why, suddenly, it
felt like the world had stopped spinning around them… if only for a moment.
 
Of course, that feeling lasted only until Emma fell asleep. She dreamt of
blood, and betrayal; her son being clutched in her parents’ dead hands and
Regina, pinned beneath King Leopold and utterly helpless. And Emma in the
middle of it all, the deciding factor in all of their fates and yet discarded,
masked… unable to make a decision.
 She awoke with a start, breathing hard and felt a cool, soft hand caressing
her forehead. “Are you okay?” Regina asked her quietly, propped up on one
elbow.
Emma inhaled, long and slow, then exhaled calmly. Trying to regulate her
breathing was the simplest thing to focus on, she knew. It kept at bay the
horrors her mind had created for her to see in her dreams. “I’m fine,” she
eventually replied to her lover’s question. She didn’t describe what she had
seen or experienced. Opinion was divided on whether past events should be
shared and relived or shut up in a box and locked away forever. Emma belonged
to the latter camp, and so said nothing.
The Captain liked to think that Regina had learned by now that she wasn’t the
type to sniffle and share her nightmares. But of course the girl was stubborn
and inquisitive by nature. “What were you dreaming about?” She asked softly,
still stroking sweaty strands of hair from Emma’s forehead.
The blonde rolled over onto her side so she wouldn’t have to look at her. “My
diseased mind amuses itself by creating images that would turn a pure soul
black and erode what little is left of my own.”
There was a long pause from Regina’s side of the bed. “That sounds… tiring.”
And then suddenly there was a warm body at her back and an arm curved around
her own waist. Emma frowned. She, by her very nature, was absolutely not a
little spoon and she was about to challenge Regina when she realised that…
actually, she was rather comfortable.
Emma wouldn’t truly submit to her contentedness by doing something as foolish
as kissing Regina’s palm or interlacing their fingers. But she did nestle
herself firmly into the Princess. If she was offering her body as a human
pillow, then who was Emma to refuse such hospitality?
“Regina,” she said softly. “About earlier on…”
“Please let’s not talk about it,” Regina pleaded. “I really am –“
“Sorry, I know,” Emma finished for her. “But it was my fault really, for
getting so drunk. And I only got drunk because I have to do the navigation now,
as well as be the Captain. So I was wondering, as you are so well educated…
would you like to be my new navigator?”
Emma could almost hear Regina smirking behind her and she was about to re-think
all this little spoon business when the Princess spoke. “Is that your
roundabout way of asking me to join your crew?”
“Maybe,” Emma told her, being deliberately evasive. Remember, she chided
herself, this is all temporary. Don’t get attached.
Regina’s thumb caressed her taut stomach. “What will you do once I am gone?”
“I hope,” Emma admitted. “That Belle will be back with us by then, otherwise
I’m going to fucking crumble under the burden of both captaincy and
navigation.”
“Why don’t you just ask somebody else to do it?” Regina asked curiously.
“You’ve proven you don’t have to be literate to do it.”
Emma considered her question. Why hadn’t she just delegated the role to
somebody else? In truth, perhaps she had just been seeking an excuse to spend
less time with Regina, who proclaimed to love her.
“Navigation requires both education and competence,” Emma told her eventually.
“Nobody else on board fits the bill, and I know I can just about get by.” She
covered Regina’s hand on her belly with her own. “You, on the other hand, will
excel.”
“Now you’re just trying to sweet-talk me,” Regina teased hesitantly. “I’ve told
you, Emma. I don’t know –“ she paused, and the Captain knew she was flushing
with embarrassment. “I don’t know how. And now I’m not sure… if I can get past
what I did to you. Earlier.”
Emma rubbed her thumb along the line of Regina’s forefinger and rolled over
until the two of them were nose-to-nose and unusually intimate. “And I’ve told
you,” Emma met their lips briefly. “It doesn’t matter. It’s just like learning
to swim or sword-fight. And as for earlier, you were right,” she admitted.
“I’ve had it much rougher. So it really didn’t bother me.” She pecked her lips
again. “I wanted it. I wanted you… so much. And I still do.”
Regina tucked her head beneath her chin, partially, Emma suspected, so she
wouldn’t have to meet her eyes. When she eventually spoke again, the Captain
could hear the mortification in her tone; her desire to please Emma was
conflicting with her staunch upbringing. “If I… will you… help?”
Emma ducked her head to kiss her lover again… “Of course.”
She let their tongues play together, sucking Regina’s gently into her mouth to
relax her, as though she was going to be the one taking the lead. She wasn’t,
of course, but figured that simulating their past experiences together to start
with couldn’t hurt.
It seemed to work well; Regina’s hands interwove with her golden locks. Emma
stretched her head back, hoping the Princess would take the hint and move her
intentions down the pale column of her throat. She didn’t. Emma sighed. This
might be harder than originally imagined.
She broke their kiss and locked eyes with the girl. This whole relationship,
whatever the hell it was, was harder than originally imagined. Enemies… captive
and captor… parents… friends… lovers… Emma wanted nothing more than to throw
the Princess off the ship before they got even more intertwined than they
already were. But she knew she couldn’t because she could admit, with gritted
teeth, that she cared for the girl.
So instead of yelling, or firmly directing, or losing her patience…. Emma took
on the sort of personality that would be able to help Regina through this.
Would be able to actually care for her, not just say that she did. She
interlaced their fingers together, and dragged their joined hands slowly down
over the top of her sternum and onto the incline of her right breast.
Emma unfolded Regina’s hand like a flower and pressed it against her, creating
delicious friction against her nipple. She pulled the Princess’s thumb over her
tight nub and rubbed it softly, until she was sure that Regina would continue
without her help. Slowly, Emma let her own hand drop to her side, until her
lover was fondling her right breast without any aid. “The left, too,” she said
hoarsely.
Regina’s tan hand reached for her left nipple and then, without any prompting,
began to roll it very gently between her thumb and forefinger. Taken by
surprise, Emma let out a gasp and cursed herself when the Princess immediately
halted all action. “Sorry! Did I hurt you?” She asked timidly.
“Fuck, no, Regina…” Emma groaned. “If I can take three fingers without
preparation, this is a fucking cakewalk.” As if to accentuate her point, she
thrust her chest up into the girl’s hand until she got the hint to keep going
before Emma did something desperate like died where she was lying.
As the Princess began to roll her nipple again hesitantly, Emma tried to quell
natural impatience. But she didn’t think it was humanly possible to come at
such a slow pace. Taking Regina by complete surprise, she rolled the two of
them over until she was on top.
“I thought – “ Regina started but Emma pressed a finger to her lips.
“If you were trying to kill me,” Emma began. “From slow burn arousal… it was a
nice attempt.” And with that, she began to move up Regina’s body until her
knees were sandwiched either side of her head.
“What are you doing?” She asked, obviously distracted by Emma’s nakedness… so
close to her face.
“What does it look like?” Emma asked rhetorically, lowering her pussy until she
hovered mere inches from Regina’s mouth, which was open and panting. Then,
showing initiative for only the second time that night, a pink tongue emerged
from her luscious mouth and licked a long wet line up Emma’s slit.
“Fuck!” The blonde exclaimed as her knees almost gave way and she grabbed the
headboard to balance herself.
Looking a little more confident in her abilities now, Regina gripped Emma’s
hips with both hands and nosed Emma’s lower lips a little wider. Emma squeezed
her eyes shut, feeling a soft tongue lave attention on her entrance. “Fuck,”
she whined again. “Regina,” she choked out, having one last instruction to
impart. “My clit. The little – shit – nub, at… the, ah, the top…” And then the
girl found her clit and by some beautiful miracle, enveloped it in her lips and
started to suck. Hard.
Emma made a tiny little whining noise and came softly, her inner muscles
spasming. She rolled off Regina’s face and sat down on the bed next to her with
a thump. “Why?” She asked, a little breathlessly. “Were you so nervous about
that?”
“So…?” Regina asked, her lips and chin glistening with Emma’s juices and
fuck,that was hot. She couldn’t resist, leaning over to suck gently on her
lower lip and tasting herself.
“You don’t need to be nervous,” Emma told her, breaking away briefly. “Ever
again.” She threw her leg over Regina’s and ground up against her, delving
deeply into her mouth with her tongue.
Regina whined, grinding her centre down on Emma’s thigh almost shamelessly. “I
love you,” she breathed, and before Emma could flinch and pull away, Regina
pulled her hand over her heart. “I don’t care if you don’t feel the same way,
Emma. You’re the mother of my child. And you will alwaysbe right here,
regardless.”
And then Emma uttered one word which could make or break them. “Okay.”
 
***** We Lay to Fiddler's Green! *****
Chapter Notes
     Author’s Note: Thank you so much to everybody who left such lovely
     reviews on the last chapter! I, of course, do completely understand
     negative reviews and welcome them along with positive ones!
     Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time does not belong to me, nor their
     characters or plots. The plot of this fanfiction belongs to
     shikabane-mai, and the artwork she drew can be found: post/
     46770603575/captain-emma-swan-and-her-former- bounty-mark
“Unfortunately, the clock is ticking, the hours are going by. The past
increases, the future recedes. Possibilities decreasing, regrets mounting.” –
Haruki Murakami
                                        
Emma awoke with an emotion coursing through her veins, almost entirely foreign
to her. She searched her memories for this jittery, excitement, this passion,
this level of devotion to one singular person and came up short.
The woman lying next to her interrupted her inquisitive thoughts with a loud
groan. Regina stretched her arms out above her head and Emma was forced to
dodge the limb in order to avoid getting punched. “Woah, there,” she teased,
rolling onto her belly and tickling her lover’s sides. “Just because you’re
part of the crew now, it doesn’t mean you can start punching the Captain in the
face!”
Regina’s eyes shot open and she looked alarmed. “I punched you?” She asked
incredulously. “But it’s so early in the morning!”
Emma sniggered as she increased the ferocity of her tickling. Regina squirmed
beneath her, and then Emma found herself on her back as the Princess rolled
them over. They both laughed at nothing at all, but it was the best kind of
laughter. Regina met her lips over and over again, unable to get enough of each
other but they couldn’t stop laughing long enough to kiss properly. It was a
very pleasant dilemma, indeed.
Eventually, having seemingly tired herself out, Regina flopped off Emma’s body
and back onto the bed. “What’s on the agenda today?” She wanted to know,
speaking slightly breathlessly.
Emma bit her lip. “Today, we dock in Tortuga.” Next to her, she could feel the
Princess freeze up and stiffen on the bed and quickly realised she had never
familiarised the girl with the agreement between herself and Queen Cora. “Don’t
worry,” she was quick to reassure her lover. “Your mother arranged to meet us
at Port Wordsworth. Tortuga’s just a stop on the way.”
Regina visibly relaxed, sinking back down into the bed. “What are we stopping
for exactly?”
Aware of exactly how her true purpose in visiting Tortuga would go down with
her lover, Emma kept her answer deliberately vague. “Re-supplying mostly, but
after over a month I think my crew are getting cabin fever.”
Regina narrowed her eyes at the Captain, but before she could call her out
there was a sound from outside the sheet Emma had used to replace her destroyed
door. “Captain?” Charming enquired, sounding hesitant. “Are you decent?”
“Sure,” Emma replied easily, just as Regina hit her on the arm and burrowed
down underneath the covers. She was entirely covered by a blanket when Charming
entered the room.
He looked discomfited, with every reason. Emma was sitting up against the
headboard, naked with only a sheet to protect her modesty, whilst there was
obviously a human-shaped lump in the covers next to her. “Snow and I would like
to talk to you… before we dock in Tortuga.”
“About?” Emma asked sharply, having been awaiting this particular talk ever
since she had eavesdropped on her parents’ argument the other night.
He bit his lip, clearly not walking to say in front of Regina. Emma sighed.
“Fine,” she agreed. Normally she wouldn’t have hesitated to say ‘yes’, a good
Captain kept in communication with his Quartermaster and Boatswain after all,
but she wanted to avoid this talk more than anything.
“How far until Tortuga?” Emma enquired, just as Charming was backing up towards
the door.
“Not sighted yet,” her father muttered, then darted through the sheet and back
up the stairs. Emma couldn’t contain a chuckle as she swung her legs off the
bedspread. After all the time they’d known each other, she would’ve thought her
father would have been well-used to her nudity, drinking, assorted bed
partners… etc.
“Is he gone?” Regina asked sleepily, wriggling from under the covers to regard
Emma with doleful eyes.
“Yeah,” Emma confirmed, tugging her breeches up her calves. “But I have to go
and talk to him, rather than…” she leant across the bed and pecked Regina’s
full lips. “Doing that all day. As much as I want to.”
Regina’s eyes followed her as she pulled her linen shirt down over her head.
“Is this what you’ve been worrying about all week?”
Her question caused Emma to frown. Was she so transparent to her Princess now?
“Yes, but how’d you –“
“When you’re worried,” Regina told her. “You tap your knee with your right
hand. Always.”
“Huh,” Emma paused contemplatively, tying her sash around her middle. “I’ve
been worried because my dearest father is about to make a very stupid mistake
indeed and he’s going to ask my help to do it.”
“Will you?” Regina quizzed her, as Emma shrugged on her coat.
The Captain paused on her way to the sheet-that-passed-as-a-door, looking back
at her lover. The girl was propped up on one elbow and her right breast was
bared to the cool air, though she seemingly hadn’t noticed. Her sleek brunette
hair fell around her naturally inquisitive face and brown eyes stared soulfully
up at her. It was a picture no man could ever deny. Or woman.
“I have a soft spot for foolish endeavours,” Emma admitted, before ducking
round the sheet and jogging up on deck.
It was another busy, bustling morning on board The Bloody Blade. Geppetto had
recently decided that the Quarterdeck stairs had sustained too much damage in
the battle with the Nevic Navy to be repaired, and so he was going to replace
them entirely. Emma would have no problem with that normally, but he had
employed half of the crew to do the muscle work and she had to dock the ship in
port later on.
“Captain!” Geppetto hailed her as she stood, observing the sweaty tendrils of
Red’s hair and Grumpy’s straining biceps. “Come to assist?”
“Later,” she promised her Master Carpenter. “Snow and I need to hack out re-
supplying details.” As suspected, when hearing the prospect of such a tedious
meeting, Geppetto waved her off with a grimace.
Emma descended the steps to forecastle, ducking under the first line of
hammocks to find Snow and Charming sitting on the bed in their cabin. The
former couldn’t meet her eyes. The latter didn’t even try.
“What’s going on?” She asked from the doorway, reluctant to step inside. For
days now, ever since she had overheard their argument on deck, she had gone out
of her way to avoid them and this conversation. Part of her, although she had
heard much worse, resented her supposed parents for their implication that she
was an unfit mother. She knew that much, goddamnit. But she didn’t think either
of them had the right to call her up on it, considering Charming had abandoned
her as a baby and Snow had never had a biological child of her own.
“Captain,” Snow started, reverting to her formal address from… nerves? “Your
father has a proposition for you.”
“Yes?” Emma raised her eyebrows, directing her gaze towards Charming.
“I… well – we,” Charming sputtered for a few seconds, before seemingly pulling
himself together and, finally, meeting Emma’s eyes. “I want to invade
Neverland.”
Sighing, Emma walked over to him and flopped down on the bed. “I can’t believe
I left my very naked, very beautiful Princess behind for this,” she complained,
rubbing her hands over her eyes.
Snow grimaced. “Will you at least listen to what he has to say?”
“No need,” Emma pointed out. “Charming misses the life of royalty, but can’t go
back since he looted daddy’s coffers and got disinherited. Luckily for him,
daddy is a shitty ruler, so the peasants aren’t very happy with him. So if the
Prodigal Son returns to overthrow the King and form his own court, nobody will
complain very much…”
Charming opened his mouth but Emma held up a hand to forestall his rant of
objection. “If you’re about to give an impassioned speech on how crap the Nevic
peasants are treated, then you’re preaching to the choir. I’ve seen a hell of a
lot more of it than you have.” She sighed. “But, and I can’t believe I’m saying
this, the right course isn’t always the most violent one.”
Her father looked at her and exhaled. “What would you suggest?”
Before she answered, Emma got up from the bed and shut the door behind her,
locking it tight. She didn’t want anybody lying around in a hammock overhearing
this.
 
It was noon before Sneezy, armed with a telescope and many tissues, first
sighted Tortuga on the horizon.
Tortuga was merely a speck but Emma shivered with anticipation as she spooned
pickled grapes out of a can and into her mouth. That was the problem with long
sailing voyages – food. Anything fresh spoiled in the first week and then you
had salted meats and the like. But it wasn’t long before even that went off and
you were stuck with – Emma looked down into her can and shuddered – pickled
substances.
She had taken over the wheel from Bashful almost as soon as she had come up on
deck, ordering him politely to help out with Geppetto’s operation… which was
still in progress. The first three new steps had been nailed firmly to the
ship, but the remaining four were still in scattered pieces across the deck. As
she watched, Red raised a hammer and brought it down hard with a loud bang,
driving another nail into the wood.
“Good! That’s good!” Geppetto praised in an accent she thought originated in
the Dragon Keys, but couldn’t be quite sure.
Charming emerged from the forecastle and Emma watched him go over to Geppetto,
tugging off his linen shirt all the while to reveal sturdy biceps and firm abs.
Even from Emma’s clinical perspective, he was a fine specimen of manhood and
she couldn’t help but be a little bit proud of her genetics.
“Yours are better,” said a voice from behind her as a lean, feminine body
molded itself against her.
“Princess Regina,” Emma scolded. “You’re becoming most brazen! And what am I
better at now?”
Regina laughed, long and low. “Your abdominal muscles.” Her tan hand crept
under Emma’s linen shirt and splayed fingers over the twitching muscles there.
“Better than Charming’s.”
“I should hope so!” Emma exclaimed in mock outrage. “It’d be a little sad if
the father was in better shape than the daughter.”
Regina laughed again and detached herself from Emma, snatching the can of
pickled grapes from her hand and using her finger to clean out the inside. The
Captain watched her with something approaching awe. “You’re becoming part of
the crew, my dear girl. Whatever happened to using the proper cutlery?”
“I’ll be using proper cutlery for the rest of my life,” Regina pointed out.
“Might as well make the most of my fingers whilst I still can.”
Emma chuckled. “Make the most of them in me and I promise to reward you.”
“Deal,” Regina brought their lips together and nipped down, before joining the
carpentry crew and commandeering a hammer for herself. Emma touched a finger to
her lips, where she had a little indent from the Princess’s teeth. Odd, she
thought to herself.
And she continued to think so the rest of the afternoon as she steered the ship
towards Tortuga. Regina got involved with banging nails and positioning wood,
even at one point, to Emma’s delight, removing most of her layers besides her
shirt and breeches.
As evening drew in on the Blade, Emma was loathe to pull the merry-making crew
from their task, but they would be soon docking and she needed all hands on
deck to make port. So it was with reluctance that she opened her mouth to begin
bellowing.
“ALL HANDS ON DECK!” She yelled and was sad to see the crew disperse to their
stations, some even taking their tankards of rum with them. Lines were untied
and sails hoisted as Emma slowly guided the ship into the docks. Bashful took a
leap onto the pier and tied off the first line, followed by Happy, then Sleepy.
“LOWER THE ANCHOR!” Emma bellowed and with a loud splash, knew that her
instructions had been followed. The ship was well and securely docked and the
gangplank went down with a clatter. Emma sighed in relief – cabin fever wasn’t
just for the crew – and strode off towards the Port… forgetting for the moment…
“Wait!” Regina called from behind her and Emma closed her eyes. Recent breaches
of etiquette or no, she knew with absolute certainty the Princess wouldn’t be
able to handle Tortuga. The drinking, the dice games, the whores… well, maybe
having worked in a brothel – she’d be able to handle the whores.
Still, it looked like her regular trip to Blue’s was out this time.
“Come on then,” Emma said resignedly, holding out her arm for Regina to take.
Just as long as the Princess didn’t mind helping her to interview potential new
crew members.
Unlike at night, Tortuga during the day was a tired old place. Long unemployed
beggars roamed the streets while dodgy merchants did their business. Thankfully
now the evening reigned and pirates that had been abed all day crept out from
their hovels.
Emma had a quiet word with the bartender of The Snake’s Sceptre, her old haunt,
and reserved both a room for the evening and a booth in which to recruit new
crew members. Regina didn’t look quite as out of place as Emma had feared she
would; perhaps those five years cleaning a brothel had come in handy after all.
“Go and have a word with some of them,” she quietly directed Red, Charming and
Grumpy… indicating all the beefy, intimidating pirates hanging around the
tavern. Next to her, Snow’s fingers were interlaced as she tapped impatiently
on the wooden table whilst on her other side, Regina stared deeply into her rum
tankard.
Emma had been hesitant to buy the Princess a drink, knowing what her feelings
had been on drinking previously. But what the Captain had predicted had come to
pass; Regina had lost her son… the only remaining question was had she lost her
morals along with him?
“Are we going to find Belle?” Regina murmured, as Emma spied the first
potential crew member of the night making their way over.
“If she’s still here,” Emma commented. “She’ll have been keeping an eye out for
our docking and will be able to find us soon enough.”
Regina didn’t speak for a long time after that. Emma talked with many men and a
few women, judging their sea-faring and sword-fighting abilities casually. In
truth, recruitment was more about instinct and a quick background check than
anything else. If Emma didn’t like the look of a man’s face – he was rejected.
If she appreciated the muscles in another’s upper arm – he was accepted.
“Another?” Emma asked her Princess between pirates, noticing she had emptied
her tankard.
“I’ll get it,” she replied, untying Emma’s purse from her belt with one hand
and pivoting herself over the table to get out from the corner in which she had
wedged herself.
Snow grimaced. “If you don’t mind me saying so, you’re in a lot of trouble with
that one, Emma.”
“You’re in a lot of trouble with this whole overthrowing-the-Nevic-monarchy
business,” Emma pointed out to her step-mother. “At least I’m getting laid.”
 
Snow sighed. Then she reached behind her neck to unfasten the leather chord
that was always tied around her throat like a necklace, its silver charm
dangling in her clavicle. “I want you to take this.” She dropped it into Emma’s
outstretched palm.
Her step-daughter looked at her with uncomprehending eyes. “This is your charm.
The one that prevents pregnancy.” She lifted the one that lay in the hollow of
her own throat. “I have one already.”
“It’s not for you,” Snow admitted. “It’s for Regina.”
Emma sighed and closed her eyes. “You’re that determined to stay the only heir
to the throne of Winterlands, huh? So much so that you’re giving its new Queen
a pregnancy prevention charm?”
Snow swallowed, whether out of nerves or guilt Emma didn’t know. “It’s not just
for me. Think of how Regina would feel, if forced to carry my father’s baby.” A
wave of nausea rose in Emma’s throat at the very thought. His spawn, a cruel
combination of him and Regina, something to remind her every time she would
look at it how he had forcedhimself on her… it would be a child of marital
rape. Neither Regina nor her children would deserve that.
“You know you might conceive now, right?” Emma asked, shoving the charm in her
pocket. “Although I suppose it’s win-win for Charming. You stay the only heir
to the throne of Winterlands and you’ll have a legitimate child in line for the
throne of Neverland.”
Snow smiled, although there was no warmth in it. “I knew you’d see it our way.”
But then their conversation was interrupted by the smashing of glass. Emma
looked around wildly, trying to find the source of the sound. Unfortunately,
she found it in the dead centre of the room. Regina stood with a smashed bottle
in her hand and a greasy-haired pirate at her feet, looking guilty.
“Shit,” Emma muttered fervently.
She knew from experience that a single act of violence was more than enough to
start a bar fight… and that was exactly what the Princess had just
accomplished. Emma, momentarily frozen by shock, snapped out of it and vaulted
over the table just in time to knock Regina to the ground. A litany of bottles
flew over their heads.
Emma punched a suspiciously charming pirate in the face as he reached down a
hand to help them up and hauled Regina up onto her knees. Pirates wreaked havoc
around them as more glass was smashed and there were many dull thuds of fists
hitting flesh.
She pulled the Princess free of the fight and began to race up the stairs,
ducking under the flailing arms of a pirate about to lose his balance and
trusting Regina to do the same. A nasty-looking lad with lots of tattoos took a
swing at her, but Emma dove at his knees and caused him to topple all the way
down the stairs.
The Princess nearly overtook her as Emma jogged towards the room the landlady
had given her for the night and she unlocked it quickly. “Get in,” she ordered
Regina without preamble. “I’ll come and let you out when this all blows over.”
Emma would never know if Regina had argued back, because she shut the door in
her face and locked it. Striding back along the corridor, she swerved a man’s
foot and socked him in the jaw, watching in satisfaction as he plummeted over
the bannister and disappeared in the mob that was forming in the centre of the
tavern.
The Captain hopped onto the well-polished bannister of the staircase and slid
down into the fray, bashing a pair of thug’s heads together as she dismounted.
It took a great deal of persistence and elbows to wade her way through the
throng. But when she eventually reached the doorway and wrenched it open, there
was nobody there to stop her from leaving.
The air outside the Snake’s Sceptre was cool and a welcome change after the
heat of the tavern brawl. Emma flipped up the hood of her coat and blended into
the shadows. She had something to investigate, and it would not do well to be
accompanied. Not with Regina, not even with Red or Charming.
Not for the first time, she was grateful that Rumplestiltskin’s house was
merely a stone’s throw from the tavern. It meant that she could slip out of a
bar fight one minute and be facing his heavy wooden door the next. She
contemplated it… if Hook had succeeded, and she felt sure that he must have,
there would be nobody to answer the door. If Hook had failed, which would be
uncharacteristic, but if there was one foe he couldn’t vanquish, it would be
Rumplestiltskin… then Emma had the feeling that the magician wouldn’t be very
pleased to see her.
Coming to a conclusion, Emma dipped her hand into her coat pocket and brought
out an old, worn leather pouch. Selecting from it two lengths of iron, she
inserted them into the lock and wiggled them about until she heard the
satisfying click of a door successfully unlocked.
Hesitating for a moment, Emma drew her sword from its scabbard. It was always
better to be safe than sorry, after all. Pushing the door open, she began to
cautiously advance forward down Rumplestiltskin’s corridor. There were no
bodies on the floor, no smashed belongings and no signs at all that a
confrontation had taken place.
Stepping forward, her foot crunched down on an object… hard and misshapen. She
crouched down to inspect it – one solitary iron key. Perplexed, Emma slotted it
into the keyhole to the house and was shocked to find that it fit perfectly.
But the door had been locked from the outside. But she soon solved the mystery.
There was an inch gap between Gold’s door and the ground, easily enough space
to slide a key through.
She put it in her coat pocket for safe keeping and continued down the hallway.
“Hello?” She called out softly into the darkness. But it was only the quiet
scurrying of mice underneath the floors that replied.
It didn’t take long to do a quick sweep of Rumplestiltskin’s house and shop. It
was empty, deserted. Something had obviously happened. But the only things out
of place were the key… and one silvery robe, made out of expensive fabric from
the Summerlands. Emma had found it on the floor of Gold’s bedroom and several
possibilities came to her. Belle had managed to thwart Hook and she and
Rumplestiltskin had resumed their relationship before disappearing… wherever.
Rumple had employed a whore in Belle’s absence, who had been forced to flee
when Hook came calling. Or the magician liked to wear silk robes in his spare
time.
Regardless of the reason, it was an oddity. And Emma was keeping it to think
over the conundrum some more, she told herself firmly. It was not at all
because she thought the rose pink silk would set off Regina’s tan skin
perfectly.
She locked the door of Rumplestiltskin’s house carefully behind her and stowed
the key back in her pocket as she began to walk back to the tavern. Well, that
had been a waste of time. She had learnt nothing that could point to Hook’s
success or whereabouts. For a moment, her thumb hovered over her compass
tattoo, but she withdrew.
For one thing, if Hook was on Tortuga, she felt certain they would have already
reunited. And there was no point in summoning him if he wasn’t on the island,
regardless of her mild concern.
No, Hook was more than capable of taking care of himself. It was Regina she had
to worry about, she reminded herself. Princess Regina, who had a little under
two weeks left to actually liveher life. Hook had survived two hundred and
eighty five years of adventures. He didn’t need Emma’s concern.
She walked back along the street, scuffing her boots on the gutter. If Rumple
had come out on the other side alive, had he taken Henry and Belle with him?
For that matter, where were Bae and Henry? Had Aurora looked after Emma’s son
as she had said she would?
Just outside the door to the Snake’s Sceptre, Emma paused. She could pursue the
trail Hook or Rumplestiltskin had left behind her tonight… but what if it led
to nowhere? Or worse, opened up a very complex investigation that would take a
lot of time to complete? Emma didn’t really have that sort of time, especially
with a captive Princess upstairs and waiting for her. No, she decided. If the
whereabouts of her son, Hook, Rumplestiltskin, Belle or even Baelfire were
unknown to her when she returned from Port Wordsworth, then she would track
them down.
40 days were a long time. But Emma had known people to fall off the grid for
longer.
She pushed open the door into the tavern and strode into the welcoming warmth.
Mercifully the fight seemed to have abated, although Emma suspected that the
many tankards of ale that were being passed around (‘on the house!’ a harried
bartender exclaimed) had something to do with that. She grabbed four of the
tankards that were being banged down with haste on the bar and jogged up the
stairs to where Regina was waiting for her.
Emma shoved the key in the lock, balancing the tankards under her other arm and
eventually succeeded, after much cursing, in opening the door. Stepping inside,
she was treated to the vision of Regina, reclining on the mattress, leafing
through a book and deep in concentration.
Emma didn’t want to disturb her adorable focus, but it seemed inevitable as she
shut the door behind her with a click and Regina looked up at her. “Is the
brawl over?” She enquired, eyes running up and down Emma’s body to check for
injuries.
“Don’t worry,” Emma placated her. “I’m still intact.”
Regina’s eyes travelled to the tankards still stowed under her arm. “And
celebrating with ale, I see?”
Emma’s lips quirked as she set the bottles down on the mattress, gesturing for
the Princess to take one. She clambered up to the headboard to sit on the
pillows with her own tankard and found, to her displeasure, that she was
sitting on something hard. Emma fished under her buttocks to find the book
Regina had been reading when she had come in. “What does the title say?” She
asked curiously, only understanding one or two words. Her reading had come on…
but not that well.
“The Split of Nevermore: To What Extent Was Magic Culpable?” Regina told her,
hesitantly popping the cork on a tankard of ale and taking a sip.
“Culpable?” Emma’s eyebrows drew together, having never before heard the word.
Regina’s lips pursed. “Deserving of blame. For instance…” she drew Emma’s lips
to hers and kissed her the way Emma loved, wet and dirty. “You are culpable for
turning me into this.”
“And what is this, exactly?” Emma enquired with an amused smile. She tangled a
hand in Regina’s brunette locks, which had become steadily lighter and glossier
the more time she had spent out at sea. She brushed her lips across Regina’s
gullet, and sucked tan skin into her mouth.
Regina whined, fists clenching in the sheets. “Some sort of loose woman, I
think. Before you, I was very tight-laced.”
“You cleaned a brothel for a living.” Emma pointed out as she pushed Regina’s
cotton breast bindings down, over her nipples to the bottom of her sternum. She
enveloped a dusky peak in her mouth, eliciting a long moan from the Princess’s
mouth. One of these days, Emma contemplated as she internally flinched at the
noise, she’d have to gag Regina. Lustful sounds really did piss her off.
“No, before that,” Regina told her, breathlessly as Emma’s lips travelled down
past her rib cage and over her abdomen. “There was somebody, back in
Springlands, whom I loved dearly.”
Emma paused in her oral assault of Regina’s body and looked up at her. She was
remembering the adventure in Hollow Lagoon, with the siren. First, the Princess
had seen Emma herself. And then she had seen a man… Daniel, she had called him.
Emma licked her lips. “Daniel?” She enquired tentatively.
Regina looked puzzled. “How did you –“
“The siren,” Emma explained quickly, hovering over the other girl’s stomach.
“Come up here,” Regina ordered, patting the pillow next to her. “And I’ll tell
you exactly why I was so eager to escape the life of royalty.” It was an offer
too good to be true, so Emma shimmied back up her lover’s body and sat again by
the headboard, taking a swig of ale.
“It started when I turned sixteen,” Regina began, eyes slightly unfocused. “My
father bought me a horse for my birthday and he was named Rocinante. And
obviously with a new horse, came a new stable boy. His name was Daniel. Anyway,
the long and short of it was…” she ran a nervous hand through her hair. “We
fell in love and he proposed.”
“Marriage?” Emma asked incredulously. “He proposed marriage to a sixteen-year-
old?”
“Actually he proposed on my seventeenth,” Regina admitted. “Anyway, I was quite
adamant that we should wait until we were married to… consummate.” She took a
swig of ale to fortify herself. “Only my parents signed away my future and
suddenly a stable boy was undesirable company for a Princess to keep.”
“They sent him away?” Emma asked sympathetically.
“Do you really think if they had merely sent him away, that I would have run
all the way to Neverland? Without him?” Regina asked dryly and Emma shook her
head, feeling dread grow in the pit of her belly. “Well first, King Leopold
paid us a visit, put a ring on my finger and took any semblance of innocence I
had.” The words were said clinically, unemotionally and yet Emma still
flinched. “The wedding date was set for three months after Leopold’s first
visit. Daniel and I continued to see one another, although it was much, much
harder than before. My mother was watching me; I think she suspected there was
something else going on. But the first real sign she had that something was
wrong was when I missed my monthly bleed.”
Against her will, Emma sucked in a breath. “Oh my Gods, Regina…”
The other girl swallowed. “My mother found out. And she didn’t believe me when
I told her what Leopold had done… so she had to find another culprit. She chose
Daniel.” Regina smiled wryly. “Ironically, there was no way it could’ve been
his.”
“What happened?” Emma asked in a hushed tone, her hand sub-consiously finding
Regina’s abdomen where, once, a child had grown.
“She killed him,” Regina stated coolly. Emma wondered if she’d become detached
from what had happened in her own mind, or if she had simply had too much time
to come to terms with his death. “And she gave me a potion, poison maybe. I
miscarried.”
Not knowing what to say, Emma pressed a kiss to Regina’s hair. “Princess, I am
–“
“It doesn’t matter,” Regina said brusquely. “I’m sure I’ll have a brood of
little Leopolds to replace my baby soon enough.”
Remembering what Snow had given her earlier, Emma fished in her coat pocket,
finding the charm was still there. She held it out on her palm to Regina, who
took it, looking curious. “What’s this?” She asked wearily, in a tone that
belied her supposed indifference to her past.
“A charm to prevent pregnancy,” Emma told her, holding out her own for Regina
to see. “They’re very effective.” Without a word more, Regina tied it around
her neck.
“Thank you,” she murmured softly, nestling her head in the crook of Emma’s
neck. “I don’t know what I’d have done if I… if we conceived a child.”
Emma combed Regina’s hair with her fingers. “Now you never will.”
***** The Bell Has Been Raised *****
Chapter Notes
     Author’s Note: Sorry for the lateness! NaNoWriMo is kicking my ass.
     Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time does not belong to me, nor their
     characters or plots. The plot of this fanfiction belongs to
     shikabane-mai, and the artwork she drew can be found: post/
     46770603575/captain-emma-swan-and-her-former- bounty-mark
“Most men would rather deny a hard truth than face it.” –George R R Martin
 
Emma awoke the next morning and quite honestly wished she hadn’t bothered.
She rolled over in bed, hands reaching out for the warmth of a second body and
found… nothing. Only mussed sheets and the residual warmth of someone who had
been there a few minutes before. Emma sat bolt upright in terror. She had
believed that her relationship with the Princess had moved to a new place and
subsequently Regina would have stopped her bordering-on-ridiculous escape
attempts.
What if she had been wrong?
Granted, she was very rarely wrong about people. For the most part they were
easy to read, with basic motives and basal needs. Regina, she had always known,
was different. Only now Emma knew everything there was to know about her lover
and… oh Gods, had she run?
The Captain kicked questionable sheets off her legs and pulled a shirt over her
head and breeches up her legs at record speed. She wrenched open the door to
their room and bounded down the stairs, searching for any trace of the brunette
girl. “C’mon,” she muttered frantically, looking around for Regina.
Then, to her immense relief, a head turned from the bar and Regina smiled
warmly at her. Emma was struck. To think that less than two months ago, this
same woman had been dirty, dressed only in rags and with a rabid urge to return
to her son, at any cost.
Now she was close to unrecognisable. Her sun-lightened hair hung around her
open, smiling face and her clothes, while still hanging off her thin form, were
no longer rags. And she was no longer trying to bite Emma’s head off. Always an
improvement in anybody. Especially someone Emma was bedding.
“You’re up early?” Regina quipped amusedly. She held up Emma’s money bag. “I
was just paying our bill, and apologising to Heron, the barkeep, for that
little commotion last night.”
Heron was an ugly chap, boasting an ale belly and a scraggly beard that might
have been impressive if it didn’t showcase what remained of his breakfast.
“Little commotion,” he snorted.
“Yes, we’re very sorry,” Emma sidled up to the Princess and slid an arm around
her waist. “It won’t happen again, Heron.”
“I don’t care who you entertain in my rooms, Swan,” he grumbled. “I draw the
line when they destroy half the common room.”
Emma sighed, hooking her money bag from Regina’s fingers and tossing it on the
bar. “An apology.”
Heron snagged the bag with greedy hands. “Done.”
Nodding in exasperated gratitude, Emma marched Regina back up the stairs with
all deliberate haste. The door to their room was still ajar and she ushered the
Princess through it. “Sit.” She ordered in a tone that forbade argument. She
began to gather their remaining garments off of the floor as Regina watched her
inquisitively.
“I’m sorry about that.”
“It’s coming out of your bounty,” Emma pointed out, with no small amount of
irony. Then, hesitating but too curious not to ask, Emma drew a breath. “Why
didn’t you run?”
“What?” Regina asked in a puzzled tone, reclining back on the pillows as Emma
bundled their belongings together.
“Why didn’t you run?” Emma repeated. “When you woke up this morning. There were
no handcuffs. No lock. Nothing at all to stop you from walking out and making a
new life on Tortuga.”
Regina sighed, as if exasperated that Emma had even dared to ask her that
question. “Well firstly, Tortuga would be a god-awful place to make a new
life,” she pointed out. “But more importantly, I’m holding on to this stubborn
piece of faith that you will change your mind.”
Abandoning the packing, Emma flopped back down onto the mattress next to the
Princess. “Why?” She questioned, rolling over on her front to look Regina in
the eye. “I’m not trustworthy. I don’t give a damn about anybody’s wellbeing
except my own. I’m the last person anybody would want to put faith in.”
“Maybe once,” Regina admitted. “I wouldn’t have trusted you as far as I could
throw you. But now…”
“Now, what?” Emma’s mood had noticeably soured. It was hard enough to break
somebody’s heart and surrender them to someone who deserved them even less than
you did. But breaking somebody’s faith in you was irreparable.
“How can I love somebody who I don’t trust?” Regina’s fingers danced along her
jaw line, caressing it gently. “How could anybody live like that?”
Emma knew she was supposed to reply in kind. Say something soppy; say something
worthy of all the things Regina had entrusted to her. But she was Emma Swan.
She let nobody down, except the people who loved her. Because at the end of the
day, she was a pirate. She had a thousand lives on her conscience. She wasn’t
meant for love, or for family. “You’d be surprised,” she said hoarsely. “What
you can live with.”
She rolled over onto her back, facing the window rather than Regina. She knew
what she would find in her face. Betrayal, hurt. It was old news, tired news.
She was sick of letting people down. Why couldn’t they all stay the hell away
from her?
A hand crept up her back and grasped her shoulder. “I know what I can’t live
without,” a tentative voice told her, growing in determination.
“Please for the love of the Gods,” Emma begged her. “Don’t say me.”
“Love,” Regina told her simply. “A very wise woman once told me, that when
you’re living without it regardless, oblivion is always a better option than
pain.” Her voice became rough and raw as she nestled her nose into Emma’s hair.
“I don’t want to be oblivious.”
 
Emma was almost grateful to be accosted by Snow the moment the two lovers
stepped aboard the Blade. She allowed herself to be willing shown into the Map
Room, where her step-mother had obviously been festering for some time already,
judging by the many papers strewn around and the empty tankards lying on the
table. “Long night?” She asked sardonically.
“Shut it, Swan!” Her Quartermaster half-yelled, frustrated. “It can’t be done!”
“Woah!” Emma held up her hands to placate her step-mother, as though trying to
calm a rogue animal. “What can’t be done?”
“The takeover. The toppling. The ambush.” Snow listed. “Whatever the hell you
call what Charming wants to do to the throne of Neverland, it’s never going to
work. We don’t have the resources, the cunning, the force…”
Emma sighed, sitting down amongst the strewn maps. She picked up a heavily
annotated map of Neverland and attempted to decipher Snow’s scrawl with her
semi-illiteracy. “Have you accounted for the fifty thousand gold I’ll get for
delivering Regina?”
“What?” Snow asked, dropping her pen in surprise. “Firstly, are you still going
through with that? And secondly, I thought you were going to put it away? Why
would you give it to us for an insane plan that might not even work?”
“Why wouldn’t I go through with it?” Emma asked, puzzled. “And if your ‘insane
plan’ works, I’ll never have to worry again.”
Snow ran a hand through her hair. “Emma…”
“You need it. I don’t.” Emma told her persuasively. “And it’ll only be a loan,
anyway. C’mon, don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, and all that.”
Her step-mother inhaled deeply, then exhaled. “Okay.” She pencilled in
something on the paper in front of her. “Okay.”
“So why are you doing all of this anyway?” Emma leant forward over the table.
“Isn’t Charming the invader?”
“Charming’s busy entertaining visuals of his triumphantly slaying everybody
that stands before what he now sees as his throne,” Snow snorted derisively.
“And yours truly is stuck with the figures. Wars are expensive, there’s a lot
of paperwork and accounting behind all the glory and the blood.”
Emma sat for a moment, watching as Snow scrawled further notes across the
parchment. “I gave Regina your charm.”
“Did she like it?” Her step-mother asked absently, crossing out a line.
Shrugging, Emma plucked her blade-cleaning cloth from her belt. “I guess. Are
you…” she hesitated, beginning to run her knife along the cloth in long
strokes. “Will you have a child, now?”
“That can be a consequence of taking off a pregnancy prevention charm,” Snow
agreed, gravely serious. “Would that upset you?” She wanted to know, looking up
from the parchment.
“I’m a big girl,” Emma commented, flipping her knife over in her hand. “I can
handle a sibling.” Nevertheless, she replaced her belongings in her belt and
pockets and made her way towards the door. “If I can help any more, do let me
know.” It was said with a little irony, but Snow seemingly ignored it.
Emma traipsed back upstairs, passing the galley as she went. The scent of fresh
meat was so alluring that it drew her inside. Oddly, only Red was there,
ripping into a steak. “Hey Swan,” she greeted, swallowing her over-large
mouthful.
“Red,” she acknowledged, searching for a second portion and finding it still
sizzling in the pan. She slid it into a plate and sat herself down with a thump
across from her Master Gunner. She contemplated the other woman a moment. One
of the longest-serving crew members, beside Emma herself of course, Red was one
of the most reliable people she knew (apart from all that lycanthropy business,
of course). Tracking, sailing, shooting, screwing… whatever she needed, Red
could provide.
“Can I ask a favour?” Emma said hesitantly.
“Always,” Red confirmed, through a hunk of steak.
Emma reached into the spacious pockets of her coat, bringing out the silken
robe, which she had folded into one square of fabric. “Can you tell me who this
belongs to?”
Red reached for it and pressed her nose to it, taking a good, long sniff. “It’s
Belle’s. Nobody else has worn it, in the last few months anyway. Where’d you
find it? She didn’t have anything like that on board.”
“Which you would know because…?” Emma teased her. To her surprise, Red flushed
and changed the subject.
“Where’d you find it?” She repeated.
Emma grasped the fabric back into her own hands, placing it back in her coat
pocket. “Rumplestiltskin’s house. She’s been back there recently, and it
obviously wasn’t to talk Hook out of killing her lover.”
“Yeah, well,” Red carried her plate over to the sink. “While you puzzle over
that, I’m gonna go do…” she waved a hand vacantly. “Master Gunner things. Very
important.”
“Sure,” Emma said vacantly, hands gesturing to nobody and trying to figure out
what in the hell had happened in Tortuga while she had been taking the long
route home.
 
The days flew by. It was Friday, then Saturday… then Tuesday and before Emma
could even catch up to this rapid progression, she had only a day left to spend
with her lover before the Princess would be lost to her forever.
She had given Regina a very pleasant wake-up call earlier and was in a
relatively good mood that morning, despite their impending goodbye. She was
about to enter the galley to find food for them to eat in bed (shameful she was
not), when somebody grabbed her arm and, taking her by surprise, dragged her
into the forecastle.
“The hell?” She exclaimed angrily, rounding on… five members of her crew. Her
eyes first alighted on her father, who was looking guilty but had the
irritating determined squint in his eye that she had come to associate with
awkward personal talks. Standing next to him, arms crossed over her chest, was
Red. She had been going around looking stormy for days, but even before that…
she had been distant.
Standing next to the Master Gunner was her grandmother. Granny never took any
prisoners, and this looked no different. To make an intimidating picture even
scarier, she held a wooden ladle in her hand, perhaps to beat Emma with if she
didn’t get her way. It wasn’t unprecedented. The penultimate culprit was Ella,
looking very guilty indeed. 
And then finally there was Grumpy. Usually sullen, he appeared almost gleeful
to Emma’s eyes. “What’s going on?” She asked, taken off guard and baffled. “Is
this some sort of emergency?”
“Intervention,” Red corrected.
Emma turned around, putting her back to her crew members and her head in her
hands. “An intervention?” She asked, voice muffled. “In case you’d forgotten,
I’m your Captain, not your pet fool.”
“It’s about Regina,” Charming said, with his usual blunt tact.
The Captain sat down on a nearby barrel with a thump. “If there was anything
you could have said to make this whole ordeal even more embarrassing…”
Red stepped forward, separating herself from Granny, Grumpy, Charming and Ella.
“This is bullshit!” She said fiercely. “How can you separate yourself from her?
It’ll only make you miserable, if not for a lifetime, then a good few decades
until she’s dead. And then you’ll go to her funeral and maybe look in her
coffin – old and wrinkled and white-haired. And you’ll be just as pretty and
youthful as the day you kissed her goodbye. And maybe you’ll think gee, if only
I hadn’t been so fucking terrified of love, I wouldn’t be bitter and alone.”
Emma reacted instinctually, her palm meeting Red’s cheek with a loud crack.
Only Ella reacted with a short gasp, unused to the Captain’s quick, fiery
bursts of temper. “You have no right –“ she began tremulously, only to be
interrupted by a quick cough from the back of the room.
That space had been hidden in the dark shadows of the ship and now Snow stepped
out of it, boasting none of the embarrassment or awkwardness the other five
wore openly on their faces. “Regina is engaged to my father,” she said in a
detached sort of way. “And I pity her for it. But I’ve made no secret of my
distaste for that girl.”
Emma snorted. “If you mean that you resent her because your daddy wants her,
but not you… then no you haven’t made any secret… at all.”
“My point being,” Snow cut across her, raising the volume of her tone. “That in
spite of that, you’re putting her though something that is incrediblycruel,
even for you. And I know that you’ll never care about anyone more than
yourself, but goddamnit Emma, for the first time in centuries you could be
happy again!”
“I don’t need happiness!” Emma roared, reaching the end of her tether with the
lot of them. “I’m fine just the way I am and I don’t need youand Charming
trying to play happy families and I don’t need the rest of you to question the
way I treat captives! If you don’t like it, then when we make port at Port
Wordsworth you can get the fuck off my ship and never come back!”
Charming stepped forward, of the six of them, least intimidated by Emma’s
outburst. “Emma, please –“
It was a miscalculation on his part. He found himself with a sword pointed
directly at his throat. “One more step, father,” she added sardonically,
through gritted teeth. “And I swear to the Gods, I will run you through.”
Granny spoke up from right at the back. “Captain Swan, this is just a polite
request for you to get your head out of your ass. No need to spill blood.”
Emma sheathed her sword with a clang and marched off in a random direction, one
which would take her as far away as possible from those who had seen fit to
interfere in her life. Then she hesitated and looked back towards the man she
had threatened the life of not a minute previously. “I need your assistance,”
she requested shortly, then began to walk once again, this time with a clear
direction.
She could hear Charming’s heavy footfalls on the wooden floor behind her that
let her know he was following her. Emma led them back past the galley and took
a left turn, standing right outside the map room. Knocking once, she pushed the
door open and entered.
The Princess was perched on the side, staring intently down at an aged scroll.
Emma’s brow furrowed in surprise. Hadn’t she left Regina in her bedchamber? The
girl must’ve gotten bored. The Princess startled as they came in, and nearly
slid off the surface. “Emma! What are you doing here?” She asked inquisitively,
placing the scroll down on the central table and pecking her lover on the
cheek.
Emma smiled half-heartedly at her, the good mood that she had been in when she
had awoken having been totally dissipated by her interfering crew. “Can you go
and read in my chambers please, Princess? I have to do something urgently.”
Emma pleaded silently with her eyes for Regina to just do as she said, and to
her utter relief, the brunette gathered her scroll up and smiled.
“Of course,” she acquiesced, slipping through the door and shutting it quietly
behind her. Charming opened his mouth, possibly to say something cutting, but
Emma shushed him and counted to thirty. She gently unlatched the door and
pulled it open carefully, inch by inch. She peered out, looking up and down the
corridor suspiciously.
Charming frowned. “You think she would eavesdrop on you?”
“No, I don’t,” Emma admitted, running a hand through her hair. “But I wanted
her to.”
Now her father looked totally perplexed. “Why?”
Emma bit her lip, pulling it into her mouth and sucking on it. “She has faith.
That I’ll change my mind. Do the right thing. I don’t…” she exhaled. “It’s bad
enough that she loves me. Trusting me is an even worse mistake to make.”
She strode across the room and unbolted an iron cage that teetered precariously
on a pile of books. The pigeon that lay prone aside could either be dead or
sleeping. Emma poked it in the stomach and to her relief it cooed indignantly.
Enchanted pigeons lived very long lives and were a sensible purchase because
all you had to do was whisper a name in their ears and they would fly to that
person, taking a message tied to their foot. Of course, the cheaper the pigeon,
the more likely they were to attack you. Emma had bought this one for eight
silver coins, so the likelihood of it going rabid on Queen Cora of Springlands’
face was mercifully small.
“Write down a message for me, Charming,” Emma requested of her father. Charming
had been educated and spoke both Nevic and Latin, while also being proficient
at writing both. Belle had once written her letters for her, but she was no
longer on board. Of course, she could have asked Regina, but the contents of
the note were not what she wanted the Princess to hear.
Her father sat himself down at the table, testing out a quill on a scrap piece
of parchment before taking a new length from the drawer. He nodded to Emma in
readiness. “Address it however formally it needs to be,” the Captain ordered.
“To Queen Cora of Springlands. I am pleased to inform you… blah blah blah, I
have your daughter Princess Regina on board. We will arrive tomorrow at
about...” she cocked her head to the side. “Dawn. Faithfully, in fealty, much
love… whatever the protocol is. Captain Emma Swan.”
Charming finished with an artistic flick of his quill and rolled up the
finished product in a tiny cylindrical shape. Emma took it and held it in her
callused palms. “I’m not making a mistake,” she said, reassuring herself more
than Charming.
“Do you love her?” Charming asked quietly. He attached more than a usual amount
of importance to true love, having already found it himself. The question was
not unexpected and yet Emma didn’t know quite how to respond.
“I wouldn’t be that stupid,” she told him eventually. And she was right. Emma
was street-smart, selfish and a survivor; she wasn’t a pathetic love-stricken
fool engaged in some sort of courtship. No, she was too smart for that. Right?
Charming looked up at her incredulously as he passed over her message to Queen
Cora. “If I thought it was possible to be too smart to love, Emma,” he began.
“You’d be my primary candidate.”
She said nothing more to him, merely attaching the scroll to the pigeon’s foot.
“Queen Cora of Springlands,” she whispered to the bird, then let him fly out of
the porthole and across the sun-baked sea.
Then she left her father behind and headed back towards her bedchamber, where
Regina was waiting, remembering to grab some fruit and bread for brunch along
the way.
 
When Emma ducked under the sheet that served as the entrance to her chambers,
now, she was almost surprised to see Regina sitting cross-legged on the pillows
and intently studying her map. Emma still couldn’t quite believe that the
Princess wouldn’t run; she couldn’t believe that the faith Regina had in her
extended past her own self-preservation. Guilt flowered up inside of her and
Emma immediately suppressed it.
“Brunch,” Emma announced. “Sorry about the hold-up, my crew accosted me.”
Regina crawled towards the food on all-fours, snagging an apple and biting into
it, smearing juice over her chin. “Doesn’t matter. I found something to occupy
me.” She gestured towards the tightly furled scroll that lay on the pillow.
Emma pressed a brief apple-flavoured kiss to Regina’s lips, delving inside her
mouth momentarily to find the sweet juice of the fruit. “What are the maps of?”
She asked, withdrawing.
“Neverland,” Regina replied, picking daintily at a bread roll. “I was there for
five years and never travelled outside of Port Lost. Now I never will.” She
tried a smile. “It doesn’t matter. How would you like to spend our last hours?”
Instead of replying, Emma rolled off the bed and slipped through the door that
led to her mini-treasury. She dug through the piles of disorganised loot until
she came right to the bottom. There lay three different chests, all with very
complex locking systems. She hesitated a moment, then picked the smallest up
and held it in the palm of her hand.
She dodged her way back through the detritus of her search and sat back down
next to Regina, who was looking inquisitively at her. “What’s that?” She asked.
Emma looked down at the box. “I found this on my journey to find Spring’s
Sceptre. I’d been searching for months…”
 
She climbs the side of the mountain, close to exhaustion and covered in shiny
burns that send jolts of pain through her with every step. She is forced to
stop every so often to drink from her water skin and reapply paste to the
burns. The dragon corpse that now lies at the very foot of the mountain was the
guardian here and he has really left his mark…
 
“Guardian dragon?” Regina squeaked, listening to Emma’s tale in rapture. Emma
shushed her and continued.
 
It seems like an eternity later when she finally hauls herself into the
dragon’s old cave. Dragons are like magpies; they like shiny things. But unlike
magpies, they know how to pick and choose things of value. Emma steps over
dissembled plate armour, an embossed silver shield and there is assorted
jewellery scattered over the floor. But the most priceless of the objects under
the dragon’s care lie right at the back of the cave.
The back is small and far too cramped for the dragon, so what it contains must
have been placed there by mankind. The furthest, tiniest corner of the cave is
also the most lavishly decorated, with four different chests on pedestals.
First Emma approaches the foremost platform, easing open the lid to the chest.
She has to proceed cautiously, not knowing what sort of enchantments might have
been placed to protect the contents. She closes her eyes and draws in a breath,
trying to sense if there is anything unusual happening. But almost half a
minute passes and she can’t feel herself sprouting tentacles or being impaled
on poisoned arrows so she opens her eyes.
Beneath her, lying in the chest, is a crown so glorious Emma almost passes out.
It is not indecently large, but boast three large sapphires, all intertwined
with gold and diamonds. It is a crown fit for a true ruler.
But it is not what she is looking for and so Emma moves on. The second chest is
much wider and thinner and the kind that Emma is intimately familiar with. She
has some idea of what to expect with this, and though it’s not what she’s
after, she cannot resist opening it anyway. It’s a sword; a ceremonial
longsword with sapphires embedded in the hilt. Sensing a theme developing, Emma
carefully shuts the lid of the chest and moves on to the penultimate platform.
This is what she has been looking for and when she opens it she’s not
disappointed. Spring’s Sceptre lies there in all its glory. Encrusted with
sapphires and shimmering in its golden glory. She flips the lid shut once more
and gathers it under one arm. Then, hesitating a moment, she takes the other
three and flees the cave. The Sceptre she will return to King Xavier of
Springlands but…
 
“You took ancient artefacts from a cave guarded by a fierce dragon?” Regina
raised one eyebrow at Emma.
Pulled out of her story-telling reverie, Emma nodded. “This was the last box,”
she indicated the chest she still held in both hands, perched on the end of her
knee. “Of course, I had to beef up the security a little, but…”
“A crown to rule over all the land,” Regina began slowly. “A sword to be
wielded by legend’s hand. A sceptre to display to the fore and a dagger to cut
away darkness in Nevermore.”
Needing no more pomp and ceremony, Emma slid her lock picks into the lock and
went to work. “You’re going to break in?’ Regina demanded in an outraged tone.
“What about the key?”
“I melted it down,” Emma shrugged. “It’s a lot easier to find a key than to
fiddle about with lock picks. And even if someone did try to break in, they’d
have no luck. I got a hedge witch to enchant mine so only they will work on the
locks of the chests.”
Still, Regina regarded her with wide eyes. “What if you lost them?”
“I have a spare,” Emma quipped, just as the lock clicked. Shooting the Princess
a shit-eating grin, Emma flipped open the lid to reveal the knife described in
Regina’s poem. Keeping with the theme, there was a single sapphire embedded in
the leather-bound hilt. The blade itself was short, only six inches. “You’ll
need a whetting stone to sharpen it,” Emma told her quietly. “After all, this
was forged nearly four hundred years ago.”
“Emma…” Regina trailed off, looking down at the blade. “This is Autumn’s blade,
right? The crown was Winter’s, the sword was Summer’s and the sceptre was
Spring’s. This dagger should go to Queen Maleficent, or Princess Aurora… or
even Prince Thomas, if he ever comes out of hiding.”
“I’ve had it for the last nearly fifty years,” Emma rolled her eyes. “I don’t
want anybody else to have it… but you.” She lifted it out of the box with two
fingers and held it up before Regina’s eyes. “You should never be without a
weapon.”
“Are you?” Regina asked curiously. “Ever without a weapon, I mean.”
Emma shook her head. “Want me to show you?” When greeted with a confirming nod
by Regina, the Captain pulled her sword out of her scabbard and laid it on the
bed next to the Princess. The longsword was followed by two matching knives,
all from her belt. Emma unbuckled the leather and let it drop to the floor.
Next, she drew her sleeve daggers from their holsters and dropped them by the
other three blades. The shirt followed the belt to the floor and she stood
topless in front of her lover. Emma reached a questing hand down her breeches
to take two different knives from the holsters on her thighs. Then with a
shimmy, she dropped the tight trousers to the floor.
“Seven?” Regina asked incredulously, but Emma shook a finger at her – she
wasn’t done. Her fingers slid down into leather boots and then came back up,
clutching a thin boot knife. Then the shoes came off and she was naked. But
Emma still wasn’t finished. She took her left boot up from the floor and
twisted the heel, revealing a secret compartment with an additional knife.
Regina looked at her in awe. “Nine?” She whispered. But Emma grinned naughtily
at her, reaching up into her tangled golden hair. She untied an unnoticeable
string and brought down a tiny amulet to the Princess’s eyeline.
“Hemlock,” she told her, prising it open to show her the contents. “Put it in
anybody’s food – instant death. Even your own… if you get to that point.”
“You weren’t lying,” Regina admitted. “You aren’t ever without some sort of
weapon, are you?”
Emma blinked at her. “I was lying.” She slowly gestured at her now-naked form.
“I have no more weapons.” She threw the locket very gently on top of the pile
of blades. “You’ve disarmed me, Princess.”
Sliding forward to her feet, Regina pulled her head down to kiss her. “That’s
right,” she murmured into her mouth. “I did.”
Emma couldn’t help but laugh as the Princess tried to pull them back and roll
them over so that that she was on top at the same time. The end result was a
spaghetti tangle of limbs and sheets. “How about we try something new?”
Regina looked down at her, a not unusual mix of fear, excitement and
anticipation in her eyes. “New?” She queried.
The Captain delved into the drawer beside her bed with a fierce grin. Holding
up a roll of bandages just in Regina’s line of sight, she gave her a seductive
wink. “New,” she confirmed.
 
***** From Its Watery Grave *****
Chapter Notes
     Author’s Note: Sorry for the lateness once again! I had to take an
     impromptu one week hiatus as I was on holiday!
     Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time does not belong to me, nor their
     characters or plots. The plot of this fanfiction belongs to
     shikabane-mai, and the artwork she drew can be found: post/
     46770603575/captain-emma-swan-and-her-former- bounty-mark
 
“You never miss the water ‘till the well run dry.” –American Proverb
 
“But I’m not injured,” Regina complained, blissfully and refreshingly ignorant,
as usual.
Emma leaned forward to brush a lock of hair behind her lover’s ear. Then with
very little warning, she tied the bandage around Regina’s eyes, causing the
Princess to squeak in surprise. “Emma!” She exclaimed. “What on earth?”
“Shh…” Emma ushered her and pressed her lips to her captive’s. Regina bucked
and then calmed underneath her, a tiny shiver going through her body as Emma’s
firm hands pushed her down on to the mattress.
Skating her lips down the side of her lover’s neck, the Captain nipped gently
at her collarbone. Regina let out a long, high-pitched moan. “Oh my gods, Emma,
your touch…” She trailed off, sounding like she couldn’t find the words for the
sensations that she was feeling.
Emma had tried blindfolding only twice before. Once with Hook and once with a
Lady from the Summerlands, whose ebony skin had glistened with sweat as Emma
had drawn out her orgasm mercilessly. Both times it had heightened all the
sensations so much that the ensuing climaxes had been very powerful indeed.
She began to suck hard on the skin of Regina collarbone, but was stopped
suddenly by a tan hand winding itself into her blonde locks. “Don’t,” the
Princess told her, regret filling her voice. “If… my wedding night. If he
sees…”
Emma gently kissed her skin to tell her that she understood. If King Leopold
saw the love bite Emma had been about to give Regina, the Princess would have a
lot of explaining to do. And then she might have been beheaded for adultery. It
stung though, to know that soon her lover’s body would be somebody else’s and
there was nothing she could do to stop it. Yes, there is… her inner voice
reminded her. You could change course right now and elope. Raise your son
together.
No. Emma had made her decision. Her fate was cemented. This was the way it had
to be.
There was no way Regina could have been following her thought process, but the
hand the had tangled itself in her hair made its way down her face to her
cheek, gently caressing the skin. It felt too real, too emotional, and so Emma
continued the love-making she had begun in such high spirits.
Her busy, callused hands made short work of Regina’s linen shirt and pushed it
to the sides of her body, pinning her arms. Now she was practically immobile,
but the Captain found herself strangely turned on by it. She grabbed Autumn’s
Dagger from where it lay on the bedspread and cut neatly and quickly through
the Princess’s breast bindings. “You know, both the dagger and the sword were
named. The sword was Caliburn. This dagger was called Carnwennan.”
Regina keened in reply, her hips bucking at the cold touch of the flat of
Carnwennan to her sternum. “Gods, Emma!”
Dropping the sapphire blade back on the bed, Emma pushed the ruins of Regina’s
bindings to the side. She lowered her mouth to taste the slightly paler skin of
one delicious-looking breast. Encouraged by the Princess’s whines and moans,
growing increasingly louder in volume, she nipped at the skin and bit down
softly on her nipple. Then Emma pulled back, very carefully watching Regina’s
expressions. The Captain had always been afraid of being too rough during sex
with her captive, fearing that she would trigger another flashback.
But the only expression on Regina’s face was pleasure, and so Emma thought it
safe to continue.
She grasped the brunette’s pussy very firmly in her hand rather suddenly and
received a surprised shriek as a reward. Emma slipped her hand inside the
Princess’s breeches and made firm, small circles around her clit with the pad
of her thumb. Regina’s whines and groans grew in frequency and volume until her
hips were jerking helplessly under Emma’s body. The Captain slid her forefinger
up to the knuckle into Regina’s hot wet centre and was unsurprised to find it
spasming in orgasm.
One, she counted mentally.
Emma momentarily withdrew her assault to strip the girl until she was fully
naked under the blonde’s own clothed body. The finger that she had sunk into
the Princess’s body was joined by a second as the Captain began to slowly
thrust into her tight channel. Regina’s walls pulsated around her fingers and
Emma wondered if she dared to add a third. She wanted the Princess to remember
this last night for the rest of her life, but only as long as Regina could walk
tomorrow morning.
On the third thrust, Emma corkscrewed her fingers, eliciting a loud groan from
the Princess. The sex noises still pissed her off, but she had grown to
appreciate them, just as she had grown to appreciate Regina. They were annoying
as hell, but kind of adorable because of it.
Emma moved her mouth up to Regina’s pulse point on her neck, an erogenous zone
she had discovered reasonably early on in their sexual relationship. She sucked
hard, making Regina tremble beneath her; but then she remembered what the girl
had said about marking her skin and began to place butterfly kisses up to her
ear instead.
It was a combination of actions that pushed Regina over the edge once more;
Emma corkscrewed her fingers, brushed her thumb over the Princess’s clit and
kissed a trigger point just behind her ear.
“Emma, Emma…” Regina chanted softly as she came once more. “Love you.”
Two.
The Captain reached up to untie the blindfold. Then she left Regina to remove
the bandage completely from her eyes as she undressed herself  Stripped of her
breeches and shirt, Emma nestled herself into Regina’s warm body. “You
remember..?” She began, croaking a little. She paused to clear her throat.
“When you licked –“
“Yes,” Regina grinned, pressing a kiss to her clavicle.
Emma patted the mattress by the side of her head. “Get your knees up here,
Princess.”
Regina eyed her in conflict but perhaps she had finally learned to follow the
Captain’s orders because she crawled up Emma’s body to sandwich her blonde head
between her own tan knees. Emma gripped the captive brunette’s hips with both
hands and gently lowered them downwards until her pussy was mere inches from
her lips and she could inhale the pure, rich aroma that was uniquely Regina.
Then, taken by a brief cheeky streak, she pressed the flat of her tongue
directly to Regina’s clit. “Ah!” The Princess honest-to-Gods screamed above her
and Emma winced at the loud, grating noise. No matter how gratifying it was to
know that she still had it in her to elicit that sort of violent reaction,
screaming was a sound she associated with death, not sex.
Nevertheless, she stiffened her tongue and began to circle the Princess’s
bundle of nerves carefully, not quite touching but sometimes brushing close
enough to make Regina wail in despair. “Please!” She cried from above.
Emma withdrew her tongue for a moment and smirked into her lover’s folds.
“Please what?” She taunted.
“Touch me!” Regina cried, bucking her hips and pushing her nether lips back
down onto Emma’s face.
“Where?” Emma enquired, seemingly innocently, slightly muffled.
The Princess shrieked in frustration. But once again it seemed her staunch
upbringing was clashing hard with her life now. So Emma decided to give her a
hand. “Your pussy?” She swept her tongue over Regina’s folds, gathering
moisture on her tongue. “Your clit?” She tongued the little bud fiercely, for
once enjoying Regina’s squeaks at every press down. “Or do you just want me to
fuck you?” She asked, stiffening her tongue and thrusting it as deep inside
Regina as she possibly could.
“Yes, Gods, Emma… Fuck me!” Regina wailed, her walls clenching hard around her
tongue. Oddly turned on by the Princess’s profanity and feeling the burn in her
own centre, Emma decided to irrationally try something. She curled three
fingers on her left hand tightly together and pushed them inside Regina, slowly
at first. But the sheer arousal dripping from the Princess’s entrance made
penetration positively easy and they slid in with almost no opposition.
Regina let out a low garble of something that could have been words and came
hard. Fluids gushed from her channel, startling Emma as she instinctually tried
to lap them up. But Regina had flopped onto the bed next to her, eyes closed
and breathing so hard that Emma feared for her health. “Fuck,” she whispered to
herself and in that moment the Captain felt immensely proud of herself. Three,
she announced in her mind.
“You squirted,” was all she actually said aloud, surprise ringing in her voice.
Regina flushed hard. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean – you –“
“It’s fine.” Emma emphasised, by licking her lips and as far down as she could
reach on her chin, chasing the Princess’s flavour. “You taste excellent.” She
grabbed the girl’s chin and engaged her in a wet, messy kiss which Regina
returned only very lethargically, apparently too exhausted to even kiss her
back.
After only a few seconds, Emma drew back, suddenly finding herself burdened
with words she longed to say. “I don’t know how to love very well,” she said
carefully, her hand drawing long, artistic lines up and down Regina’s back.
“Well that’s just a lie,” Regina laughed. “I’ll be sore for days!”
Emma allowed herself a little chuckle. “No, Regina. That’s not what I’m
saying.” She said it so quietly, and with such intensity that Emma felt Regina
tense up in her arms and knew she was listening intently. “I wasn’t capable of
love for a very long time,” she confessed. “I was too scared of it; I was too
scared of the consequences that it would bring. So I ran away from it. I ran
away from anybody who was capable of loving me. And if you stay here with me, I
won’t be able to run away. I can’t run away from you.” A tear trickled out from
beneath her eyelid and she brushed her mouth next to Regina’s hair, as if her
next words could be lost in the soft strands forever. “I love you,” Emma
whispered.
The tears began to trickle out at a faster rate than Emma could count and
Regina turned over in her arms to look her in the eye. She opened her mouth to
ask something, perhaps if Emma really meant it, but closed it again.
“I love you too,” the Princess murmured back. She placed a brief kiss on Emma’s
lips, then kissed away the tears at both of her eyelids. “Please don’t cry. It
makes me feel like a most unattractive prospect.”
Emma choked as she tried to laugh and cry at the same time. Regina regarded her
with morose eyes. “But you haven’t changed your mind, have you? You’re still
going to let them take me away.”
“I could never give you what you truly deserve,” Emma confessed in a whisper.
“Leopold… he could give you the world. You’d be Queen. You could have your own
children. Riches, wealth.”
“I don’t mind giving up any of that,” Regina pleaded tearfully with her. “I
just want you and Henry.”
Emma slowly skated her hand down all the tiny knobs of the Princess’s delicate
spine. The callused pad of her thumb brushed roughly against tan skin, making
Regina shudder beneath her. “I have lived for two hundred and seventy five
years. Nearly four lifetimes. And I could live ten, twenty… even a hundred
more… and yet never deserve you.”
Regina sat up in Emma’s arms, naked and unashamed, for perhaps the first time
ever. She had a fierce look in her eye. “This will be the first and last time
you ever choose my fate for me, Emma Swan. Choose wisely, because once we dock
tomorrow… there will be no going back.”
Her eyelids flickered shut and Emma allowed herself to picture for a moment,
what a life with Regina might look like. The pirate Captain, the Princess and
their son… sailing the seven seas for evermore. Free of consequence and
responsibility… free of death.
But then reality came crashing back in. “In ten years,” Emma said with
increasing certainty. “When Leopold is dead and you have children and a Kingdom
of loyal subjects who love you better than I ever could… that’s when you’ll
thank me.”
“I hate you,” Regina said, with the same raw and bitter hatred as she had
displayed the first time she had proclaimed such loathing for Emma. “You may
love me, but your heart’s too ugly and dead to do right by me.” Her voice broke
over the final words, and she arose from the bed. “Lace me into the dress you
gave me. I want to look pretty…” Regina choked up. “For my husband-to-be.”
“Regina –“ Emma reached out to touch her shoulder, but the Princess shrugged
her away.
“Don’t!” She bit out fiercely. “Don’t touch me.”
Emma held both hands up, going to the dresser where she had stowed Regina’s
dress after she had been injured during the battle against the Nevic Navy. A
sailor had pierced her ribs with a sword and during his attempt at saving her
life, Bug had had to remove the dress. Later, it had made its way back to Emma,
who had stashed it in the dresser until now.
She shook it out and inspected it critically. It looked a little worn around
the edges, but apart from the hole where the sword had been impaled on Regina,
it was in perfectly serviceable condition.
The Princess covered herself modestly as she stepped into the dress and allowed
Emma to pull it up around her shoulders. The Captain treasured each inch of tan
skin as it was covered up by the material. But the back of the dress hung open,
so Emma began to lace it up with slow and sure hands, hating every moment of
this prolonged goodbye.
“Where will you go?” Regina asked after a long period of silence.
Emma hesitated a moment, tugging the strings tighter together. “Somewhere hot.
Back to the Summerlands, I suppose. Port Blake or Agano. Perhaps Eldora.”
“Eldora is inland,” Regina said in a puzzled tone. “Why would you want to leave
the coast?”
Emma paused in her lacings. “It’s the capital city. I thought Henry might quite
like to see it.”
“You’re still going back for him, then?” Regina asked faux-casually, head
slightly bowed. Emma could tell that she had almost been expecting her to
abandon her son once more to the mercy of Baelfire. But Emma knew now that she
wasn’t smart. Not smart enough to stay away from love. Or maybe she was just
tired of trying. Regardless, after Regina’s wedding to Leopold was over, she’d
find Henry and be his mother, as much as a mother as she was capable of being.
And she would support Charming and Snow in their endeavour to take over the
monarchy of Neverland. And if they gave her a sibling… well, she would support
them too.
“I am,” she said concisely. Because that was all Regina really needed to know.
Emma finished lacing the dress and let her warm palms rest on the Princess’s
shoulders for just a moment until Regina turned around to look her in the eye.
“You better take care of him, Swan,” she ordered, deadly serious. “He deserves
the best, so you better be the best.”
“I’ll try,” Emma nodded and was quite alarmed when Regina gripped her upper
arms fiercely.
“No!” She exclaimed fiercely. “You have to do better than that!”
Emma caressed her ex-lover’s face gently. “Regina,” she said softly. “I really
will try.”
She didn’t even realise that she was crying again until the hot itch of a tear
ran down her cheek, leaving a stain in its path. Regina’s eyes were welling up
too and Emma pulled the Princess into her body, holding her as they both wept.
Emma was unusually emotional, but the last time she had fallen in love it had
ended the same way –a betrayal, two broken hearts and innumerate tears.
“You stay here tonight,” Emma said finally in a rough voice, pulling away from
her captive.
“But where will you sleep?” Regina enquired, brushing stray tears away from her
eyes.
Emma placed a final kiss on her forehead. “We always keep one cabin in the
forecastle empty, just in case. I’ll sleep there.”
For a moment they stood there, foreheads resting together, breathing
rhythmically. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.Then Emma broke the moment and
pulled away. But she took Regina’s hand in hers and laid it against her own
chest, where her heart was beating rapidly. “It may be ugly and dead. But it
loves you in its own way.”
Regina bent her head to press her lips softly against the patch of skin just
above Emma’s heart. Then their lips met in one last, final, desperate kiss.
Emma clutched Regina’s tangled ebony locks as the Princess wrapped her arms
tightly around the pirate’s neck as if they could stay there, locked in
embrace, forever.
 
“Captain!” The voice and its accompanying shake of the shoulders was a brusque,
urgent awakening. “It’s nearly dawn! We’re about to dock!”
Emma jerked awake, already half out of the coverlets and pulling on her clothes
as fast as lightning. “Wake the Princess,” she ordered, buckling her belt
around her waist and pulling on her overcoat. Her hat was jammed at a jaunty
angle on her head to finish off and she looked at Snow impatiently. “Well, go
on!”
Knowing better than to disobey that particular tone, her Quartermaster hurried
out of Emma’s temporary chambers and presumably towards the Captain’s Quarters
to awaken Regina. Captain Swan was fairly certain the Princess would be awake,
having likely not caught a wink of sleep all night. But she wasn’t willing to
take the risk. After all, it would never do to have her bounty sleeping when
the Queen came to collect it.
Emma strode out of the forecastle after Snow, heading towards Grumpy at the
wheel. “I’ll sail us into Port Wordsworth,” she commanded, taking charge and
gripping the spokes with tense hands. “Oh and Grumpy?” She called after the
dwarf as he made to leave the Quarterdeck. “Can you keep Snow below deck this
morning? I would hate for King Leopold to have any awkward encounters with his
illegitimate daughter.”
“Don’t worry about it, Captain,” Grumpy gave a short perfunctory salute, which
told Emma he had not quite forgiven her for yesterday’s events. It wasn’t
unprecedented for her to threaten the life of a crew member, but it was
uncommon, which meant that it had probably unsettled them all. Good, thought
Emma viciously. When a pirate crew got too matey with their Captain, it usually
led to mutiny… not because they disrespected the Captain but because they
couldn’t follow orders.
The Captain was about to reach into her belt to grab her telescope when she
realised she didn’t need to. Port Wordsworth wasn’t just a speck on the
horizon; it was closer than she had thought. Too close. Was Emma really ready
to say goodbye to the last two months? The mother of her child? The woman she
loved?
Yes, she told herself firmly. Toughen up, Swan. Being alone is something you
know how to do.
Except she wouldn’t even have to be alone. She had Charming, who was fairly
useless as a father but a good boatswain and friend. She had Snow, a sister
figure. She had Henry waiting for her somewhere, with Hook and Bae. And she had
her ship and crew, with whom she could go anywhere and do anything.
But first she had to do this. As undesirable as it was. Because Emma had made
her decision and she knew that Regina would respect it, because what else could
she really do? At the end of the day, the only difference between love and
trust was that the latter was given freely, which made the pain of betrayal
sting sharper. But if to trust only herself was a lesson that Regina had to
learn, then Emma was glad she had been given the opportunity to teach it.
Because it was the most valuable thing she herself had ever learnt.
But as she began shouting orders to dock the ship in port, Emma wondered what
teaching that lesson had cost her. Love, certainly. Family, perhaps. But then
her gaze hardened and she held her head a little higher. Because when had Emma
Swan ever needed either of those?
The anchor was thrown into the sea with a splash and Emma heard royal trumpets
being played from the security of the dock. She slowly descended the steps of
the Quarterdeck and offered her arm to Regina, who had been waiting quietly in
the shadows of the ship deck for who knew how long. Perhaps all night.
“Your Highness,” Emma kissed the back of her hand, brushing her lips over
Regina’s soft, tan skin for what would be the last time. But in contrast, it
was the first time she had ever seriously addressed the Princess as formally as
her station required.
“Captain Swan,” Regina curtsied shallowly and took her arm, silently allowing
Emma to escort her over the gangplank and onto the dock.
As Emma’s feet made contact with land, she saw the royal entourage for the
first time. The three most prominent figures stood in the foreground of it all.
King Henry and Queen Cora, with interlocked forearms and welcoming smiles on
their faces. Whether they were genuine or not, Emma couldn’t tell from the
distance. The third figure, who stood slightly to the side, cut an imposing but
rounded figure – King Leopold. To Emma he merely looked like a chubby,
benevolent old man, but in reality she knew better. He was a rapist that had
more or less disinherited his illegitimate daughter, who had then been known as
Mary-Margaret Blanchard.
But the procession behind them was more impressive. There looked to be a whole
section of musicians just to welcome the Princess home. Various men and women,
standing behind the three royals, all dressed in finery and likely Dukes and
Duchesses as well as their offspring. A Royal guard of course, a platoon of
finely dressed soldiers in the deep green of Springlands livery on the left and
the pure snow white of Winterlands on the right.
“Quite the welcoming committee,” Emma murmured to Regina under her breath.
Regina clutched her arm very tightly. “I think I’m going to throw up.”
As they grew ever closer to the parade of royals, musicians and soldiers, it
was easier for Emma to get a read on the three monarchs in the foreground. King
Henry, Regina’s father, looked benign and happy to see his daughter. Emma could
see from which parent the Princess had inherited her brown eyes and tan skin.
But her luscious brunette locks were evidently a gift from her mother.
Queen Cora herself was also smiling, but it was in that cool, detached way that
Emma had long come to associate with people in positions of power. The Captain
didn’t like the way Regina’s mother looked at her, as though she was a
possession rather than a human being.
Then finally there was King Leopold, a little to the right. If Queen Cora saw
Regina as a possession, then Leopold looked upon her as though looking at a
juicy steak. His eyes ran greedily up and down her form and Emma gritted her
teeth. Not that Regina wasn’t gorgeous, but there was appreciation and there
was lechery. King Leopold definitely fell into the latter camp.
Emma’s legs seemed to be carrying her forward quicker than ever before and in a
blink of the eye the pair of them stood before the trio of monarchs. Emma
stepped forward and bowed deeply. As she was not a citizen of either the
Springlands or Winterlands (although a felon in the latter), she did not have
to kneel to swear fealty. But Regina dropped to her knees beside her, in front
of her father and kissed his hand.
“Your majesties,” Emma murmured. “Queen Cora, I have successfully completed the
service you gave me.” She stood erect once more, meeting the Queen’s eyes
steadily.
Cora smiled grimly at her. “And you shall have your compensation, Swan.” She
gestured absently to a courier, who pulled forward a horse and cart. The cart
was loaded with leather bags and Emma swallowed. A whole cart full of gold
coins. “Ethan will help you load it onto your… vessel. You also have temporary
diplomatic immunity until sundown tonight, after which if your ship is still
docked you and your crew will be arrested and executed for your various crimes…
principally piracy.”
“A reasonable request,” Emma inclined her head. She couldn’t help glancing down
at Regina, who was still on her knees in front of her father and trembling
visibly. It was probably improper of her to say goodbye and so Emma kept her
mouth shut. But she had evidently been too obvious in her longing to say
something, anything, to reassure her old lover because Cora stepped forward.
“I know that you’re a smart woman, Captain Swan,” the Queen hissed in her ear.
“Whatever my daughter may have told you, noneof it was real. Regina is
excellent at manipulation and she would have done anything, Captain, anythingto
escape.”
Emma drew back and lowered her head in acknowledgement. “My Queen. King Henry,”
she turned to the King of Winterlands. “King Leopold.”
She stepped backward, but before she could tear away her eyes, Leopold came
forward to offer his hands to Regina. The Princess took them, stood and then
tried to withdraw her hands, but the King would not let her. He bestowed a
greedy smile upon the Princess, then brought a pudgy hand up to touch her face.
Emma watched in disgust as he caressed her lips, then trailed down by way of
one breast to feel her hips. From the way Regina was wincing, he was clutching
them hard enough to bruise.
“Nice child-bearing hips,” he roared and behind him his soldiers chuckled and
jeered their approval. Emma swallowed and forced herself to turn around before
she vomited. Rage, unlike anything she had felt for at least a hundred years,
was coursing through her blood like fear. If she was forced to watch a second
longer, she would either throw up or impale the King of Winterlands on her
sword. Either way… Emma turned to leave.
Biting her lip, she forced herself not to look back as she walked away. The
trundle of a cart full of gold coins followed her all the way back to the
gangplank, but the sound only reminded her of pain and betrayal.
It was only when she had boarded The Bloody Bladeonce again that she allowed
herself to look back at the Royal entourage. The musicians had begun to
disperse and a row of horse-drawn carriages were being towed off towards the
distant palace. As Emma watched, she could just about make out Regina, still
clad in Emma’s old dress, being helped into the foremost carriage by a
seemingly chivalrous King Leopold. The Princess turned her head at the last
minute before she was shut into darkness and Emma could have sworn, that from
all the way down the pier, that they caught each other’s eye.
“Where do you want all this going then, pirate?” The courier asked in a tone
that made no secret of his attitude towards her.
Emma turned back to face him with a fake, sweet smile. “Haul it aboard, my
friend,” she ordered pleasantly. “Don’t you know that pirate hospitality is the
best in the seven seas?”
The courier looked at her suspiciously, but grabbed the top sack from the cart
and began to lug it up the gangplank. He passed Emma and once his back was
turned, she slowly and soundlessly drew her knife from her belt. When the
courier dumped the sack on deck and turned back towards her, Emma darted
forward, faster than an arrow and buried the blade in his neck.
Scarlet blood spewed all over the deck as the man crumpled to the floor. He
landed face first with a nasty crack, probably breaking his nose. Not that it
would matter. The dead didn’t need their sense of smell. Emma knelt by the
corpse and quickly began to strip it of its clothing. The dark green livery of
the Springlands was embroidered with oak trees. This uniform had a white stripe
around the collar, indicating that the wearer was in a position of servitude,
not power.
Emma tugged free an evergreen-coloured waistcoat and unlaced a crisp white
shirt. She laid them out on the deck along with a pair of pale pea green
leggings, leaving the courier only in his loincloth. All the while, her crew
had been watching the man’s vicious death and stripping with wide eyes, but
only Snow came forward to challenge her.
“Not to question your actions, Captain, but…” she trailed off, looking a little
grim at the large pool of blood that was collecting on the deck.
“You want to know what the hell I’m doing?” Emma asked viciously. She pulled
her knife from the man’s neck and cleaned it on her own shirt, staining the
cloth red. Then she gripped the man under both arms and towed him to the side
of the ship. Her crew immediately cleared to make a path for her, some with a
little fear in their eyes. An act of unprecedented violence like the one she
had just displayed was unusual. Emma made a point of trying not to kill people
outside of battle and for no good reason.
Captain Swan heaved and threw the dead man overboard, where he hit the surface
of the ocean with a splash and sank. She watched him disappear below the waves
for a second, then clambered up on to the side, clutching the rigging so she
didn’t overbalance. The rage that had filled her heart when Leopold had touched
the Princess with his fat, gluttonous hands still burned strong and true.
“A member of our crew has been taken! As a result of my own actions!” Emma
roared, feeling like a lion as the wind whipped her hair back and forth. “She
was selfless, she was brave and she was true of heart! And right now, she is
being fondled by a lazy, gluttonous King that does not know the burn of labour,
the salt of the sea or the justice of equals! And I am going to find that
fucking son-of-a-bitch, and I am going to kill him, so that I can redeem
myself!” she declared fiercely, drawing her sword from her belt. “And maybe
once I impale his head on a spike over the walls of Port Wordsworth, Evermore
will finally realise that women deserve respect and fair treatment just as the
same as any man! So who will fight alongside me? To win back a member of our
crew whom I wronged so badly?”
“Me, Cp’n!”
“And I, Swan!”
The rest of the declarations were lost in a fury of cheers and the drawing of
steel from scabbard. Emma looked over her faithful crew with wondering eyes and
felt the fury that raged in her heart thirst for the blood of King Leopold of
Winterlands.
***** Do You Hear Its Sepulchral Tone? *****
Chapter Notes
     Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time does not belong to me, nor their
     characters or plots. The plot of this fanfiction belongs to
     shikabane-mai, and the artwork she drew can be found: post/
     46770603575/captain-emma-swan-and-her-former- bounty-mark
“Mawwage. Mawwage is what bwings us together today.” –William Goldman, The
Princess Bride
 
The serving girl’s name was Philippa.
It wasn’t an unusual name by any means, Regina mused. In fact, her great-great-
great-grandmother had been Queen Philippa I of Springlands. It was a family
name. And Royal names were very fashionable choices for the peasants to name
their babies, which was probably why her serving girl’s name was Philippa.
It was just one more reminder to Regina that she was home in the Spring Palace
and not in her dirty little hovel in Port Lost, or in Emma’s chambers on board
The Bloody Blade.
Philippa the serving girl bustled around a little more, then stepped back as if
to appreciate her work. “There, your Highness. It’s all finished.”
Feeling tiny tremors of fear and disgust running through her veins and under
her skin, Regina slowly rose from her chair, trying not to disturb the
slightest little aspect of her outfit. She turned to regard herself in the
full-length looking glass.
A bride stared back.
She had Regina’s eyes, that was for sure, but other than that the ex-brothel
cleaner and lover of a pirate couldn’t recognise herself. Her hair was in a
beautifully crafted bun that let a few strands of hair float gracefully around
her face, caressing her cheekbones. Her face had been softened by the
application of powder, so she no longer looked so emaciated. Her body had been
cloaked in layers and layers of ivory fabric, which padded out her chest and
hips and swished down over her legs. The dress was unreasonably heavy, boasting
a five foot train.
“Lovely,” Regina tried, complimenting Philippa’s work on her hair. She had been
laced into the dress by three different women early that morning and two others
had come in soon after to do her face. Now her appearance was perfected and it
was down to her to do all that was required of her in the upcoming ceremony.
Ceremony.It seemed like such a harmless word, but really it was the gateway to
hell. Regina’s own, personal hell. At noon, she would walk down the aisle and
promise to devote her life, soul and body to a monster personified. Then all
afternoon she would endure banquets and dance and music with a smile that hid
all of her pain from the world. And then finally… she quaked a little in her
satin shoes, Regina would have to please the King that night.
“Thank you, Philippa,” Regina attempted a smile. “You are dismissed.”
As soon as the serving girl was gone from the room, the Princess’s knees
buckled and she had to grab the back of the chair to stop herself from falling.
She eased herself on to the surface and buried her face in her hands.
It was hard to keep from crying, but the Princess just about managed to keep it
together. The serving girls had done such a good job of making her look pretty
for her… wedding, she didn’t want to cause them more trouble. She didn’t want
them to come back. Regina just wanted time to be alone and mourn what could
have been her life.
Damn you, Emma Swan. Regina curses in her head. Damn you.
Pirates were supposed to be fearless, but maybe that was only when it came to
battle because fearless Emma was not. If the Captain hadn’t been so damn
terrified of commitment, Regina could have been in paradise. But instead, Emma
had sentenced her to hell.
She swallowed. It was becoming harder and harder to fight back the tears so the
Princess forced herself to concentrate on something else. She paced restlessly
back and forth over her bedroom floor, before something occurred to her. Regina
lifted the pillow from her bed and gazed down upon what she had hidden there.
All she had left of Emma. A rope of pearls. A pregnancy prevention charm. And a
dagger, which she had spent most of the previous night sharpening alone with
her thoughts.
Regina tied the charm around her neck, followed by the pearls. She fingered
them softly, remembering how she had torn them off her neck when Emma had
betrayed her by sending Henry away and how when Regina had forgiven her, the
Captain had gratefully tied them back on. The charm reminded her of Tortuga,
the bar fight she had accidently started and how Emma had protected her
fiercely. Perhaps Emma wasn’t the Prince Charming she had dreamed of when she
was younger, but she acted enough like it.
The Princess sat on the side of the bed and heaved up her skirt. She was
wearing stocking and garters with her wedding dress, and after hesitating a
moment, Regina picked up the knife. She contemplated the blade.
It would be so easy. So easy to give up. Plunge the knife into her breast and
die right there on the spot. She wouldn’t have to endure the looming ceremony,
Leopold’s weight on her body, her heart slowly breaking as the years went by
and Emma never came for her. Instead, the Princess lifted her garter away from
the skin and slide the knife blade down inside. She let the fabric snap back so
the hilt protruded from the garter and then inhaling, let go of the whole
thing. Mercifully, it held.
Regina let the skirts of her lacy, ivory wedding dress fall back down over her
legs and walked back over to the looking glass. Externally, her appearance
hadn’t changed at all. There wasn’t even a bulge where the dagger hilt rested
against her thigh. But Regina looked in the glass and saw herself, not some
strange girl in a white dress.
 
The wedding was at noon, which meant that Emma had hours to kill before she
could execute her plan. She could have spent it going over the plan with Snow,
Charming and Red one more time. She could have gone round the crew, giving
motivational speeches. She could have checked to make sure each and every one
of her weapons was in pristine condition.
Instead, Emma spent those last hours curled up on her bed in the foetal
position, clutching Regina’s old breeches and linen shirt to her belly. It was
pathetic. Shewas pathetic.
Until Bae and Henry, she’d never had cause to miss anybody. Emma had never had
any parents to mourn the absence of. She’d been to glad to leave the convent
behind to miss it. She hadn’t even had any friends until Bae had let her come
aboard Hook’s pirate ship.
When she had sent Bae away with Henry, it had left a hollow ache in her gut.
But it had been easier then, because she could hate Bae for what he had done.
Emma loathed him for causing Milah’s death. The bitter hatred in her belly had
countered the ache in her heart until one day they were both gone entirely.
Henry was another matter. She had carried him for nine long months and had
fallen in love with the curve of her belly and the way he would get a burst of
energy just as she was about to fall asleep and kick her ribs. That first
night, when Milah’s lifeblood still stained the deck and Hook was being taken
care of by their then surgeon, she had curled up in her hammock and held her
baby belly tightly, although there was nothing left inside her.
Now she was in the same position. Clutching her belly as her whole body heaved
with unshed tears. Emma was doing what she did best and taking action, but she
still felt so useless. She could have changed her mind a million times and
sailed away with Regina on board. But it hadn’t been until it was too late that
she realised how precious the Princess really was to her.
Lethargically, Emma stretched out her body like a cat. She unclenched her fists
and flexed her knuckles, hearing them pop satisfactorily. Then suddenly
bursting into action, she clenched her abdominal muscles and flipped herself up
off the bedspread. A final check of her weaponry… Emma paused. She had given
Spring’s Sceptre to King Xavier and Carnwennan, the dagger, to Regina, but the
sword…
It took a fair bit of digging, but eventually Emma unearthed the padlocked box
and inserted her lock picks. A minute later, it clicked and she flipped the lid
open.
There it was. Caliburn the sword, encrusted with both sapphires and a little
rust. Well, it had been locked away in Emma’s treasury for nearly fifty years
and gathering dust in a dragon’s cave for three hundred years before that.
Nevertheless, it was still magnificent. Emma pulled her rum tankard from her
belt and popped the cork with her teeth. She poured a little over the blade and
began to wipe up and down the metal hard to remove the rust.
When she was satisfied with the rust removal, Emma put away the cloth and
alcohol and rummaged through the messy contents of her desk to find a whetting
stone. After a long hard search, she finally found it lying on her dresser,
which was very odd indeed. The dresser was strictly for clean clothes and
bandages.
Shrugging it off as an oddity, Emma began to run the whetting stone up and down
the blade’s edge. She worked the edge, shrugging off her overcoat until it was
fine and then tested it on the web of her thumb. With barely a touch, it opened
a thin line of blood and Emma smiled down at the cut. Perfect.
She threw her usual sword down on the bed and replaced it with Caliburn. It was
too loose in her normal scabbard, so Emma was forced to detach it from her belt
and replace it with Caliburn’s custom designed scabbard. Flashy, yet elegant,
the scabbard also had sapphires embedded all down the side and it sat heavier
on Emma’s hip that her usual sheath.
Finally satisfied with the state of the weapons, Emma unbuckled her belt and
shimmied off her breeches, pulling her linen shirt over the top of her head and
dropped it to the floor. Emma wasn’t going to be a pirate today. She pulled the
pale pea green leggings that had belonged to the courier which she had killed
on. They were a little tight; evidently her thigh muscles were a lot beefier
than his had been. The leggings were followed by the shirt and waistcoat, both
of which were a little loose but it didn’t matter too much. The interesting
part was trying to fit her belt so it would be hidden underneath the leggings,
which were already tight. Eventually, she comprised by buckling the belt around
her ribs rather than her waist, so it was hidden by the loose shirt and
waistcoat.
It felt odd, but she could still move freely.
Done with her attire, Emma pushed aside the sheet which served as her door and
clambered up the stairs and back on deck. Most of the crew were congregated
there, looking down at a map of the Spring Palace and sharing information.
“Ahem!” Emma cleared her throat, left hand on her new sword hilt and her stance
wide. “Shipmates!”
The murmuring and bustling stopped and they all turned to face her. She tried
to meet the eyes of every one of them. Her officers. Her family. The new men
and women she’d picked up in Tortuga. Even little baby Alexandra.
“Here,” Snow came up to her, a forest green cap dangling from her fingers.
“You’ll need one of these to hide your hair.”
Emma jammed it on over her tied-up curls. “Alright?”
Snow gave her the once-over and smiled. “Keep your head down and you’ll be
fine.”
 
Where had the time gone? Were the Gods playing a cruel trick on her? Surely
noon couldn’t have arrived that fast.
“Daddy?” Regina asked shyly, fidgeting as serving girls fussed to perfect her
dress, hair and jewellery. “What’s the name of the God of the Sea?”
Nobody on board The Bloody Blade had been particularly religious, other than
Belle and Charming. Regina didn’t know what the Boatswain had worshipped but
she had once walked in on Belle praying. She had been praying to the Goddess
Athena for the wisdom to make good choices. Regina had watched quietly for a
while, but couldn’t shake the feeling that she had been intruding.
As royalty, she was supposed to be very pious indeed. But her father had always
let her ride horses rather than attend temples with him and after she had run
away Regina had not felt the desire to find her sanctuary with the Gods. But
now there was nothing left to her. No Henry. No Emma. No happiness or even
independence. Her life was empty and hollow and perhaps one of the few choices
remaining to her was worship.
“The Sea?” King Henry IV of Springland’s brow furrowed. “Poseidon. Why, child?”
Ignoring the serving girls’ protests as she knelt, Regina closed her eyes. Dear
Poseidon, she began hesitantly, having never prayed to a God before. My name’s
Regina and I’m… having some trouble. If you could help me out of this somehow…
I can sacrifice something for you. Not a person, though. Maybe a pig, if I can
find one? Do you like pig? Sorry, I’m diverting… if you can stop this wedding,
I will worship you every day for the rest of my life.
“Regina?” Her father gently shook her shoulder. “It’s time, my child.”
She swallowed and opened her eyes. The double doors that led out into the
garden pavilion were being opened by two soldiers, both matching her in the
crisp white of Winterlands colours. The pavilion was beautiful at this time of
the year, absolutely bursting with life. But instead of cheering Regina like it
usually did, today it just depressed her.
“Those pearls are beautiful,” her father murmured as he began to walk her at a
slow pace towards the double doors. “Wherever did you get them from?”
The Princess could not help the wide grin that spread across her face, making
her entrance into the pavilion picture perfect as all the attendees of the
wedding sighed at her beauty. But the smile fell off her face just as quickly.
The high walls of the pavilion were studded with guards everywhere and though
the portcullis was open, it was manned by a whole troop. If she had harboured
any hope of being rescued before, it was all gone now.
At the other end of the aisle, her bridegroom awaited her. He was clad in the
finest clothes gold could buy, mostly white which clashed with his red-flushed
cheeks, but with green piping as a nod to the origins of his bride. Regina
trembled slightly but her father gripped her arm comfortingly. She clutched
onto him tight, knowing that soon she would be holding her husband-to-be’s arm
instead.
The aisle grew shorter with every pace and before she knew it, Regina stood at
the altar and her father was placing her hand in Leopold’s large, sweating
palm. Her eyes darted upwards to the walls, in an almost fight-or-flight
attitude. And though all the guards were watching the ceremony, only one had a
bow on their shoulders.
Regina couldn’t help but smirk.
 
Emma fidgeted in her uncomfortable courier’s uniform. At least it meant that
she could blend into the crowd, but having her belt buckled just under her
breasts was proving much more of a discomfort than she had originally
anticipated.
Still, when the double doors to the palace had been thrown open and Regina had
floated out with a smile on her face, Emma had taken in an involuntary breath.
She was stunning. Suddenly, Emma felt a pang in her lower belly and realised
with shock that she wished she was in Leopold’s place. She wanted to marry
Regina. Someday. She wanted to marry the Princess someday.
Blown to pieces by that revelation, it was by accident that Emma realised that
Regina was shaking. Her pupils were slightly dilated the way they were when the
Princess was very aroused… or terrified. Emma’s heart bled for her and the rage
in her soul was complemented by determination to protect her lover.
It was only when the priest began to speak that Emma tore her mind away from
her emotions and back to the plan. The concrete, efficient, workable plan. It
was very dangerous and placed a huge target on Emma’s forehead, but if she was
smart about it, and Emma planned to be verysmart about it, she’d get out just
fine.
The plan revolved around one simple theory which had been tried and tested in
Tortuga. To cause a large commotion and a distraction under which to hustle
Regina away, it was necessary to knock somebody out in the most theatrical way
imaginable.
“Do you both come here today from your own free will and consent?” The priest
asked and Emma had to fight the urge to snicker when Leopold answered ‘yes’ for
both of them. It was men like him that had made Emma’s life a living hell when
she was younger and less of a legend. Men who believed they could do or say
anything to whoever just because they had a dick. Soon, Emma promised herself.
Soon.
The vows, as always, were too lengthy and Emma tuned out during Leopold’s
blather of affection and commitment. It was all bullshit anyway. She knew the
type. Power, respect, money or attraction got people laid. And Leopold had the
first three. He was the kind of man who wouldn’t bother staying at home with a
pretty young innocent when there were skilled women to be had.
Then came Regina’s own vows. Emma could tell she hated every word of them but
she spoke them anyway. Fierce and resilient. A survivor. And for the first
time, Emma could see how Regina could have been if Emma had chosen to turn
around and keep the Princess by her side. Somebody who would not be broken
easily. Somebody like Emma.
Of course the wedding continued on and the matching goblets were both drunk
from. Then the words that Emma had been dreading were said by the priest. “So I
declare you man and wife.”
At this point it was customary for the new husband to kiss the wife, but before
he could even bend down, Emma had hopped up on the platform behind the priest
and smashed an empty rum bottle over his head… hard.
There was a moment of absolute silence in the square. Time almost seemed to
slow down as Emma’s crystal blue eyes met Regina’s.
Then chaos reigned.
 
Make your move.Regina kept thinking. But the ceremony continued. Had she been
wrong? She had been so sure that it had Snow up on that wall but perhaps it
hadn’t. Perhaps she had been mistaken. Maybe that little bit of hope was the
high before the fall.
She said her vows numbly, every moment aware that they were drawing closer to
the point of no return. Once she said “I do”, there was no going back. She
would be the Queen of Winterlands and then there would be no hope. No hope ever
again.
 
The priest asked. She paused. But what else could she do?
“I do,” Regina uttered, her heart breaking in her chest. She had been wrong.
About Emma. About everything. Love wasn’t enough to fix this. Nothing would
ever be enough to fix this.
That was it. She was Queen Regina of Winterlands and technically her surname
had changed from Mills to Leventhorp, though it was used so rarely that it
hardly mattered. The real tragedy was that when she had dreamed of saying I do,
it would be to a pair of bright blue eyes, full of love for her and no longer
damaged beyond repair.
The Princess was dead. Long live the Queen.
The worst part of the ceremony was upon her. The kiss. Regina detached herself
entirely from the situation and imagined a happy place. Rolling tides and a
soft white beach. A blanket maybe, where the newly wedded Regina Swan would
watch her wife frolic happily naked in the waves.
Somewhere, very far away… a bottle smashed. Regina was ripped away from
paradise and back into the present. She hadn’t been kissed. But the priest was
on the floor. And standing next to him, looking as ferociously beautiful as
always, stood Emma, proudly holding a shattered bottle neck in her hand.
“Sorry I’m late,” Emma reached out for her and Regina found herself pulled into
the Captain’s arms. Then she was being backed away from the alter and from a
shell-shocked Leopold and suddenly the world was sideways and she hit the
ground with a thump and there was screaming…
Emma was gone when Regina lifted her head. All around her people were running.
A boot stepped on her beautiful ivory dress and with a loud riiip the train was
torn from her skirts. The Queen looked around wildly, looking for anything that
made sense. What she saw was a familiar face, clad in an overlarge scarlet
cloak and beckoning to her. “Red,” Regina breathed as she got to her feet
unsteadily and tried to make her way through the rioting crowd.
But two more clear faces appeared in the blurred world – her mother and a
guard.
“Regina!” Cora yelled to be heard over the chaos of people scrambling to get
out of the pavilion. “This is madness! There are pirates everywhere! Let John
here protect you.”
But Regina had had enough of being protected. She’d had enough of good
intentions and well-meaning comments. She’d had enough of mother knows best and
she’d had enough of trying to do right. So the Queen slid a hand up her skirts,
gripped the hilt of Carnwennan which had been hidden in her garter all this
time and then, as quickly as she could, stabbed John in the chest.
Her grip was all wrong and the dagger only went half-in, but John gurgled and
flopped over all the same. “Regina!” Cora shrieked. “What in the Gods’ names –“
“Goodbye mother,” the new Queen told her, bowling her over as she hurried
towards where Red was still beckoning urgently. She sprinted past bodies of
guards, pirates and citizens alike, unable to feel any remorse due to the huge
amounts of adrenaline flowing through her veins.
Much to Regina’s shock, Red placed a hand on her behind. But the intention
behind the inappropriate action was revealed when the Master Gunner hoisted her
onto her back and spread the cloak over both of them. “Wrap your legs around my
hips!” Red shouted over the noise. Then, bent double with Regina’s weight on
her back, Red began to sprint towards the still-open portcullis.
 
Emma hadn’t been in a battle this fast or furious since the Barricade of the
Bluebottle. Guards were left, right and centre. At one point she had been in
battle with the King himself, although his footwork was very sloppy and Emma
had been about to trip him up when he had been ushered behind a whole wall of
soldiers.
Charming was alongside her at least, as were all the remaining Dwarves
somewhere. She lost her first knife in a soldier’s stomach, and her second
knife in a musician’s neck – the guy had tried to beat her to death with his
horn. Emma battled on with her sword, but the soldiers had the advantage with
their shields. Too heavy for pirates to transport, shields were a valuable
defence that Emma just didn’t have at her disposal.
She blocked a heavy overhead strike and ran a soldier through. But they were
like vermin, seemingly innumerate and undefeatable. There was nobody she
recognised around her anymore, just swords and shields and soldiers in green
and white liveries. It was five on one and even Emma couldn’t hold them off.
She sliced and hacked madly but she was disarmed and Caliburn clattered out of
her hand and onto the floor. Shit.
A soldier thrust his sword towards her belly and Emma dropped to the floor
quickly to avoid it. But another soldier impaled his blade in her forearm so
she was unable to get up. A particularly muscular soldier swung an axe at her
neck and Emma closed her eyes. It wasn’t going to be the most dignified death
in the world, perhaps, but any kind of death during battle was honourable.
There was a thunk of axe hitting flesh, a cry of agony and a thump as something
heavy landed on her legs. Emma opened her eyes. Hook lay, panting shallowly and
lying on her thighs, an axe in his side. Mulan and August stood over the pair
of them, fighting off the soldiers and giving Emma a brief respite.
She regarded Hook with horror. “Killian!” She exclaimed. “What the hell!”
“If that’s what I get for saving your life,” he groaned, propping himself up on
an elbow. “I won’t fucking bother next time.”
Emma grabbed Caliburn from where it lay in the dirt and yanked the sword
pinning her to the ground out of her arm. It made her scream as a hot burst of
pain exploded in her forearm and her whole arm throbbed. She offered Hook her
uninjured right arm and he hauled himself up, the axe still embedded in his
ribs like some odd ornament.
“Don’t,” Hook bit out as she reached for the handle. “I’ll bleed out.”
She panicked. He would die for sure if she didn’t take immediate action, only
Emma wasn’t quite sure what she could do for him. It would be almost impossible
to escape from this pavilion with his injuries, so there was no chance of
getting back to Bug, who might have been able to fix him.
Emma glanced yearningly at the portcullis. Regina… She had risked everything to
liberate the Princess – no, Queen – and didn’t regret it. Emma only regretted
that she wouldn’t survive the day and that she had forced Regina to live a life
without her.
“Emma,” somebody crouched down beside her and put a hand on her shoulder. She
glanced up and saw Snow, with an empty quiver and drawn sword, as well as
Charming standing just behind her. “Charming and the Dwarves will cover you
while you get Hook out of here. The portcullis can only be closed from the
inside so…” Snow hesitated. “I’ll stay behind.”
“What?” Emma exclaimed. “No! You can’t… you’ll be killed!”
Snow shook her head slowly. “My father won’t let me die on a soldier’s sword.”
The Captain closed her eyes, ashamed that she was going to allow her
Quartermaster to throw herself on the mercy of the father she hated. But Snow
was right, if anybody else stayed behind to close the portcullis, they’d be
killed immediately.
“Okay,” Emma murmured sorrowfully. “Okay.” She gestured Grumpy over and
together they managed to lift Hook to his feet. Together, the three of them
stumbled towards the open portcullis. Mulan and Smee fought there, keeping the
Winterlands and Springlands guards away from the exit while the two pirates
Captains stumbled towards them.
Every step was a burning pain and Emma was beginning to feel dizzy from blood
loss. But she could almost taste freedom as the three of them passed through
the portcullis and onto the drawbridge. Then, to her shock, Hansel and Gretal
ran up holding the reins of two thoroughbred horses.
She looked at Hook in outrage. “You planned this!”
He glanced up at her, grimacing in agony. “I didn’t plan the part where I
nearly got hacked in half, don’t worry. But it’s always useful to have a
getaway horse, isn’t it? What was your plan?”
Emma spluttered and tried to find a witty solution. It was true – she hadn’t
even considered how they would get back to The Bloody Bladeafter they had
rescued Regina. Stupid, she cursed herself. One of the most important rescues
of her life and she hadn’t thought of an escape?
“Sometimes you need somebody to be your brains, Swan,” Hook commented as she
heaved him onto a horse and swung herself neatly up behind him. “That Princess
– she’d be good for you. I’m glad you managed to get your head out of your ass
before it really was too late.”
Emma clicked her tongue and pressed her heels into the horse’s side. “Well,
we’re not out of the woods just yet.”
The Captain wasn’t fantastic with horses. In fact she only tolerated them as an
inferior method of transport to ships. Her only problem was, the horses she
rode seemed to sense her dislike of them and were thus temperamental and
difficult to handle. It was a small miracle that this bay mare was placid,
because whenever they jolted, even a little bit, Hook would yell in pain.
“STOP!” Somebody yelled from behind them. “STOP IN THE NAME OF THE KING!”
Emma only had to exchange a look with Hook and they both clicked their tongues
and urged their horses into a canter, then a gallop. They entered the town at a
rate of knots, jumping over loose barrels.
But Hook’s pallor was becoming worse and worse whenever the Captain shot a
glance at him. They were almost to the docks when he all of a sudden pulled up.
Taken by surprise, Emma could only halt her horse ten feet ahead of him.
“I can’t go on,” he explained, breathing heavily and clutching his blood-
drenched side. “Emma, there’s no way…”
She knew exactly what he was saying. There was no way he was going to get out
of this life-or-death situation still breathing. She just didn’t want to accept
it. They’d been in so many tight squeezes together before, and come out the
other side just –
“I’ll be fine,” Hook lied straight to her face. “Go and get that happily ever
after with your Princess and your son, Swan.”
She wanted to do the honourable thing. For a moment, she really did.
But Emma Swan was, at heart, a pirate.
She turned her horse and clicked her tongue, galloping off towards her ship and
leaving her best friend behind to face the Winterlands guards. A lone tear
dribbled down her cheek, but she brushed it away angrily.
Hook’s injury had been a mortal one. Realistically, there was no way she could
have made a difference to his fate.
It was just a shame that her dirty coward’s heart would never allow her to even
try.
***** We Are a Call to All *****
Chapter Notes
     Warnings: Dead bodies.
     Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time does not belong to me, nor their
     characters or plots. The plot of this fanfiction belongs to
     shikabane-mai, and the artwork she drew can be found: post/
     46770603575/captain-emma-swan-and-her-former- bounty-mark
“It was good, and nothing good is truly lost. It stays part of a person,
becomes part of their character. So part of you goes everywhere with me. And
part of me is yours, forever." - Rosamund Pilcher
 
“Swan,” a voice hissed from down a dark side-alley, and Emma halted her horse
on the silent street. Her face was dirty with tears and she wiped them all away
angrily, squinting into the darkness. Then from the darkness, figures began to
emerge.
First was someone she had never wanted to see again, clutching the woman whom
she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. It made her sick to the stomach,
Rumple holding Regina close and caressing her dainty white throat with a blade.
Emma immediately dismounted and drew her own knife, but Rumple raised an
eyebrow, and indicated his own blade. Emma understood – one wrong move and
Regina would be dead on the ground.
But Regina didn’t seem scared. She stood there, in the dark alleyway, still
wearing her wedding dress which was now dirty and ripped. But she held Emma’s
eyes fiercely with her own and did not shake or tremble in Rumple’s hold. Emma
felt a curious mixture of pride and terror burst through her.
Behind him came Bae, with a hand on her son’s shoulder. Henry looked a little
shaken up, but otherwise okay, Emma was glad to see. She had been wrestling
with her conscience ever since they had left Tortuga, worried about him. She
knew Bae would never deliberately let him come to harm, but Emma hated
ignorance and ignorance to her son’s location had been the worst of all.
Then the worst – Belle with her own knife to Red’s throat. Emma saw the defeat
in Red’s face and the war playing itself out in Belle’s eyes and understood.
They both knew that Belle would never harm Red, but the threat of it had broken
Red’s spirit. They had been closer than close on The Bloody Blade, like sisters
almost. Emma couldn’t help but hate Rumple just a little bit more for
destroying that relationship.
“What do you want, Rumple?” Emma asked, her voice still a little funny from the
tears she had been crying for Hook. She sheathed her dagger and walked forward
with her hands in the air. She wasn’t going to try anything with Regina’s life
on the line, but she’d be damned if she were backed into a corner like this.
Rumple snickered in that funny little way of his. “Peace,” he announced and
Emma had a feeling he would have made a little flourish gesture had his hands
not been full of Regina. “I want my family, Swan. And I want to live peaceably
with them.”
Emma nodded, and looked down at the ground; the tears were once again trickling
from her eyelids. She kept silent, not trusting herself to speak.
“You have to swear to… withhold your dearest Hook,” Rumple announced. “Stop him
from all unwise attempts on my life and confiscate my dagger off of him. Then,
I’ll let your twoo wuv and your werewolf free.”
Emma smiled, and looked up, letting Rumple’s sharp gaze fall on her tear-
stained cheeks. “Done,” she agreed, holding out her hand.
Rumple’s eyes narrowed and he sighed, somewhat frustratedly, and let Regina go.
The Princess – no, Queen now – stumbled forward and fell into Emma’s arms with
an unladylike grunt. “He’s dead, isn’t he?” Rumple complained.
“Yes,” Emma confirmed quietly.
Rumple leaned forward, until his breath of stale meat permeated Emma’s
nostrils. “Prove it,” he snarled.
 
It was almost like the start of a bad joke – a magician, a Queen, a werewolf
and a pirate carried a corpse swaddled in sheet through the streets in the
middle of the night. Emma was on edge, feeling like they could be busted at any
moment. Rumplestiltskin was the most wanted man in all of Neverland and
Evermore; Red was a known werewolf and murderer, Emma herself was a felon and a
pirate and Queen Regina was missing. The Captain wouldn’t be surprised if there
were large search parties out looking for her now. But when they had reached
the spot where Hook had died, it had been deserted. The searchers had obviously
moved on.
Emma had been hesitant about allowing Regina to come with them, wanting to send
her back to the Bladewith Belle, Bae and Henry, but Regina had insisted on
coming. And who was she to deny the woman whose life she had almost irreparably
ruined?
There was movement next to her and Emma started, placing her hand on Caliburn’s
hilt and almost dropping her edge of Hook’s shroud in the process. “Both the
Bladeand the Roger are safe,” Belle whispered. Emma had ordered her to check
over the ships to make sure that they were safe, and then wait for the four of
them to come back with Hook’s body. “It looks like they searched the ships
earlier, but Granny sent them off with her rolling pin and told them you had
all gone out drinking.”
“Okay,” Emma whispered in acknowledgement. “Let’s move out.” She shuffled
forward and together, the four of them began to ferry Hook’s corpse over the
very open space of the dock towards the pier where the Blade was anchored.
Halfway along the pier, they all broke into a run. It was unprecedented, but
perhaps somebody had stumbled, perhaps the panic had got the better of them;
but somebody had started to jog and caused the other three to follow suit. Emma
didn’t think that it had been her, but she truly had no idea.
Hook jiggled grotesquely in his shroud and Emma had to look away. She had seen
dead bodies a thousand times before but she knew that it was always different
when it was somebody that you knew, that you had loved in your own way.
Charming stood at the gangplank of the Blade. Emma couldn’t see his eyes in the
darkness and mumbled an order to help, when he grabbed her bicep. “Did you
know?” He demanded loudly and Emma, used to silence and whispers while
traversing the streets, winced.
“Know what?” She asked impatiently, backing up the gangplank and trying to make
sure they didn’t all overbalance and go for an ill-timed swim.
Her father’s voice was choked. “She stayed behind. Sacrificed herself. For
fuck’s sake, Emma!” His voice broke on the expletive. “She might be dead!”
“Hook is fucking dead, you imbecile!” Emma growled. “Snow is fine. Dearest Papa
won’t let her die. Now get the fuck out of the way.”
She didn’t bother looking to see if he’d followed orders as she heaved the body
up on deck, followed by Red, Rumple and Regina. Hook’s body was dropped rather
unceremoniously on to the deck and Emma fell to her knees beside him. She wound
a hand through his messy black locks and kissed his forehead in a rare show of
sentimentality before wrapping him properly in the shroud.
Emma raised an eyebrow at Rumple and he silently nodded to her. “Take him
below,” Emma croaked to Red. “We’ll have the funeral in the morning.” She
grabbed Regina’s hand and stumbled down the steps to her Quarters, tripping her
way past the sheet that served as her door.
She fell on her bed as sobs began to wrack her body. They were silent but
powerful, causing her whole frame to shake mercilessly. Emma noticed the
tiniest things in exact detail. The contours of Regina’s sodden, ripped wedding
dress as the Queen lay her lover’s head on her thigh. Her deep slow breaths.
The reassuring patterns her lover drew on her upper arm as she patiently waited
for Emma’s mourning to taper off...
And all of a sudden, the Captain made a decision.
It had started only a few hours previously when Emma had seen Regina floating
down the aisle in her wedding dress like some sort of minor Goddess in all her
perfection and beauty. It had grown when she had stepped out of the darkness,
Rumple’s knife at her throat, but had looked fearlessly at Emma. And it was
culminating now, in a fierce burst of passion and love.
“Wait here,” Emma told her Queen, voice thick with tears, both shed and unshed.
She crossed the room and took a key from the ring on her belt. She unlocked the
second drawer down of her desk and drew from it…
“Emma?” Regina’s voice was overly patient and concerned. “What’s that?”
The Captain turned around, displaying the small item that lay in the palm of
her hand for all to see. She came back to stand before her lover who sat on the
edge of the bed and then, ever so slowly, dropped down on to one knee.
“Emma…” The Queen trailed off. There were too many emotions in her name to
begin to discern, and so the Captain didn’t bother. Instead, she held her ring
between her thumb and index finger. “Regina…” she bit her lip. “Will you be my
wife?”
There was a moment of very dreadful silence where Regina merely looked down at
Emma, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. “No!” she exclaimed very
suddenly, almost causing the Captain to drop the ring in her surprise. “Emma,
I’m already married! And the Queen and…”
Emma’s head dropped and she ran a hand through blonde hair. Then turned to sit
on the floor, her back facing towards Regina. All that and… rejected. She
doesn’t want you. What would a Princess want with a pirate?
“And you left me behind,” Regina finished, her voice choked. “You had months,
Emma, months, to decide what you wanted. And I let you make that decision! I
could have run at any time, once I had earned your trust! I could have even
taken Henry with me, but I was so stupid, because…” her voice trailed off and
Emma had gone rigid, tensed against the next blow. “I trusted you!” Regina
finally exclaimed and there it was, just as Emma knew it would be.
She’d broken the Princess’s heart and betrayed her trust. Deep down, she had
known that when she had rallied her crew and decided to save Regina from her
wedding. But some stupid part of her had hoped that it wasn’t too late, that
she could win her heart back. But at the end of the day, she was Emma Swan,
Pirate Captain. The only way she won hearts was to cut them out of people’s
chests.
“I can’t marry you, Emma,” Regina said softly, brokenly. “You… you fucked up.”
Regina never swore before. Not before Emma. And the fact that she was using
that language now told Emma that she was deadly serious. There was no easy way
back from this point for them. Emma had nearly landed Regina with forty years
of marital abuse and not by accident, either.
The ring had been a stupid idea. But it had been Emma’s last gamble.
“You can stay,” Emma said roughly, into her knees where she had nestled her
head. “You shouldstay. Even if you can’t marry me, it’s better than going back
to your husband.”
“Thank you,” Regina replied, and then the sheet fluttered in her doorway and
Emma was alone once again.
 
The Springlands dungeons were in dire need of a good scrub and a lick of paint,
Snow White thought critically as she leant back against the wall.
Her clothes didn’t offer much protection about the cold, dripping wetness of
her cell. She’d been getting along just fine for the first 30 or so minutes,
still running on an adrenaline high, but after she had crashed it had become
very miserable, very quickly.
Snow recalled the look on Emma’s face when her step-mother had offered to stay
behind and shut the portcullis. It was funny – only when Snow or Charming were
in mortal danger did Emma act like family. Emma had looked at her like her
step-daughter, but Snow guessed Captain Swan had won the internal struggle
because Emma had nodded shortly and left, dragging a dying Hook. Snow had
yelled the retreat after that. Charming had just passed the portcullis,
probably thinking that his wife was right beside him, when Snow released the
wheel and the gates to the pavilion keep had crashed down.
Her beautiful, valiant husband had turned back around and charged valiantly,
but Snow had looked at him and shook her head. “Go!” She had mouthed to
Charming. But of the course, the silly man had waited until the guards had
clapped her in irons to disappear.
And then Snow had been brought down to this stinking, dripping cell to wait in
anticipation for judgement to befall her. She knew her father would visit her,
though he didn’t yet know her true identity. He would want to know who had been
ballsy enough to crash his wedding and ‘abduct’ his bride-to-be. And Snow would
tell him. She would tell him that it had been the Nevic Navy.
King Leopold was too proud a man to let such an attack and abduction slide. He
would absolutely declare war on Neverland, which would perfectly slot into
Snow, Charming and Emma’s plot to revolt and overthrow the Nevic monarchy.
Just as Snow was going over their revolt plan again in her head, there was a
clicking sound and the door to her cell swung open. Two guards, magnificent in
Winterlands white, marched into the now-crowded space, then separated and
allowed the King to step inside. “Kneel for the King!” One of them ordered and
Snow, feeling little need to disobey, fell to her knees before her father.
“Do you care to explain your involvement in all of this, Mary Margaret?” The
King asked her in his deep booming tone. Mary Margaret looked up and met her
father’s eyes with her own hazel eyes. He had recognised her on sight – which
was hardly surprising considering she hadn’t aged since the day she had left
the Winterlands behind.
“Father,” Snow began. “I no longer go by that name. My new name is Snow White.”
He looked down at her stonily and she suddenly reconsidered her position. They
hadn’t parted on the best of terms, and Leopold was an immoral man. Perhaps he
would have less problems than she had anticipated killing his own flesh and
blood. But then he smiled, showing all of his yellowing teeth, and offered her
a hand.
Snow got to her feet, still keeping her eyes downcast, as was only polite in
the presence of a monarch. “Accompany my daughter to a free chamber and assure
that she has all the assistance she requires to bathe and dress,” he ordered to
the guards who stood stationary by the cell door. “Snow and I will be dining
with Their Highnesses of Springlands in two hours.”
Then King Leopold turned his back on her and swept out of the cell, leaving
Snow in the doubtfully capable hands of two dull-looking guards.
 
Emma wasn’t really sure what her next move was going to be.
All the forces of good and evil and every criminal of significance seemed to
have gathered on board her vessel, and she disliked the overcrowding.
“Mother?” A little voice asked shyly from behind her as she strode down the
corridor, and Emma paused, and then turned around to see Henry’s ten-year-old
face looking innocently up at her. She instinctively smiled and dropped to one
knee to embrace him, the gesture tearing at her heart as she remembered how
Regina had rejected her in this position not a few hours earlier.
“Mother, there is a rich lady upstairs,” her son murmured into her hair and
Emma stiffened. “She wants to talk to you.”
Emma pulled back, a hand still resting on the back of her son’s scalp. “What
did she say her name was, kid?” She was surprised at how easily the endearment
came to her tongue, but it slipped off as naturally as if she had been saying
it all of her lfie.
Henry bit his little lip and looked worried. “She said her name was Queen
Cora.”
She slowly closed her eyes in horror. Damn.
***** Pay Head the Squall *****
Chapter Notes
     Warnings: Major character death/injury/assorted hardships. THIS
     CHAPTER IS NOT FOR THE FAINT OF HEART.
     Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time does not belong to me, nor their
     characters or plots. The plot of this fanfiction belongs to
     shikabane-mai, and the artwork she drew can be found: post/
     46770603575/captain-emma-swan-and-her-former- bounty-mark
 
“Everything will be all right in the end. If it’s not all right, it is not yet
the end." – Unknown
 
===============================================================================
 
“Mother, there is a rich lady upstairs,” her son murmured into her hair and
Emma stiffened. “She wants to talk to you.”
Emma pulled back, a hand still resting on the back of her son’s scalp. “What
did she say her name was, kid?” She was surprised at how easily the endearment
came to her tongue, but it slipped off as naturally as if she had been saying
it all of her life.
Henry bit his little lip and looked worried. “She said her name was Queen
Cora.”
She slowly closed her eyes in horror. Damn.
 
A few hours earlier
The nightmare started like this:
She couldn’t breathe. The stuff ridges of her corset were laced so tightly to
her body it was impossible to take a deep, slow breath. Her feet ached in
dainty shoes a size too small. Her skirts were long and heavy, swishing around
her ankles. And the crown on her head was ironically far too heavy.
She was ascending some steps. Wooden and roughly hewn, the type that had been
put together in a hurry and creaked on every other step. She crossed the weak
stage tentatively, towards one large wooden block. The man she feared the most
stood beside it, dressed all in black and running a whetting stone slowly along
the blade…
“Milady!” A voice said as it shook her shoulders relentlessly. “Milady, wake
up!”
Snow groggily shook her head from side-to-side. “What’s going on?” She asked
sleepily.
“Only three quarters of an hour until you have dinner with their majesties,
milady!” The girl was panicking, flapping her arms about in a gesture of
general stress.
“Huh,” Snow grunted and rolled over. She knew that she wasn’t going to be
killed. That was good enough for her without attending some fancy dinner.
“Milady!” The serving girl squealed, maybe terrified that her job could be in
danger because of Snow’s non-compliance.
Snow groaned and turned back over, yawning as she sleepily pulled the covers
off her still-warm body. “Pass me my breeches, then.”
The serving girl swallowed nervously, but made no move to do as she had asked.
“What?” Snow demanded after some minutes of waiting.
“His majesty sent you this… with his regards.” The girl held up a long, heavy
maroon gown with an intricately designed bodice. It was eerily similar to the
one in Snow’s nightmare.
“No way,” Snow refused. “They can take me as I am, or not at all.”
The maid looked almost apologetic as she stood her ground. “I’m sorry, milady,
but under the King’s express orders…”
Snow held up a hand to stop her in her tracks. “I get it,” she told her, eyeing
the gown with distaste. “Go on… lace me in.”
At least the material felt nice against her skin, Snow mused as she stepped
into the thick fabric and pulled it up her legs and over her hips and chest.
“Milady, wait!” The girl exclaimed. In her hands, she was a holding a tiny,
tight-looking corset produced from seemingly nowhere. “This, first.”
“You’re joking,” Snow demanded, indignant. “Tell me you’re joking!”
The serving girl, perhaps sympathetic by nature or just accustomed to fussy
nobility, went relatively easy on her as she pulled tight the corset laces. But
as every breath she took became a little more constricted, Snow began to panic.
This felt exactly like her nightmare had. A heavy dress. Tight corset. Bound in
every possible way. Snow’s hand drifted up to the top of her head where she
brushed over her scalp. At least she remained without a crown, Snow thought in
gratification.
The corset tied and the dress laced firmly to her form, Snow was deemed to be
reasonably presentable. Mercifully, etiquette demanded that Queen Cora be both
taller and more bejewelled, so Snow wasn’t coerced into heeled shoes or duped
into wearing any jewellery. At least being King Leopold’s disinherited daughter
had one or two perks.
“Right this way, milady,” the maid pointed down the corridor as Snow stepped
forward. But even in walking her gown constricted Snow and she could only take
strides which were half of her usual length. The pair of them, bastard Princess
and serving girl, went along three corridors and down four stairways before
reaching a pair of guards, standing dutifully outside a double doorway.
“Snow White?” One enquired of her in a shallow, nasal tone.
When she nodded, he threw his side of the door open and gestured for her to
enter. Snow looked behind her but the maid had disappeared so she bravely
gathered her skirts and stepped into the room.
Her first impression of it was that it was quite church-like. The small windows
were made from stained glass and candles were dotted on every surface. The
walls were decorated with beautiful paintings, but they were all in tiny pieces
– a mosaic, Snow thought, the foreign word coming with difficulty. But the
centre-piece of this grand, albeit dimly lit space was a long table of at least
five feet. As the ruling monarchs of their respective countries, King Leopold I
and King Henry IV were sat at either end. Queen Cora, bedazzling in emerald
jewellery, sat on King Henry’s right. Snow could see the chair that had been
lain out for her, right in the centre, on the opposite side to the Queen.
Struggling to recall the brief, rudimentary etiquette of her youth, Snow merely
dipped a curtsy at all three of them before taking her seat. They were probably
expecting her to be an ignorant savage, after all. Snow cast a quick glance at
her plate; at least she knew how to use cutlery.
“Good evening, daughter,” King Leopold addressed her, making his intended
message clear. Henry and Cora might know that she was illegitimate, but not
that she had disinherited her father and any privilege that she was entitled to
at eighteen.
“Father,” Snow smiled without showing her teeth. “Your majesties,” she inclined
her head towards the other monarchs in respect.
“My daughter is a traveller,” Leopold informed the King and Queen, as a footman
came forward to pour wine into her goblet. “It was quite the surprise to find
her languishing in one of your jail cells.”
Cora’s laughter was tinkling and entirely false, like it had been well-trained.
“Adventures are so fascinating,” she commented. “I had quite the little trip
myself in midsummer. To a dreadful little island named Tortuga.”
Snow couldn’t help but flinch a little as she heard the word. Her gaze met the
Queen’s and the other woman’s eyes narrowed. She knows, Snow realised, her
heart thundering like a galloping horse.
Her father laughed boomingly, he was unrestrained and carefree – exactly the
opposite of Cora. “What in the Gods’ name were you doing there?” He asked,
still chuckling.
“I had almost given up on finding my Regina through normal channels,” Cora
recounted, eyes still fixed on Snow. “So I placed a pirate in my employ. A last
gamble, you understand. Anyhow, she succeeded.” Cora shook her head, smiling
without any real sentiment but irony. “I should have kept her on to guard the
ignorant chit.”
“Nonsense,” Leopold slammed his hand down on the table, making the soup bowls
quake and ripple. “The search parties will find my wife, don’t you worry.”
King Henry IV spoke for the first time, ladle hovering over his bowl. “Any word
on the mastermind of the abduction?”
Snow raised her eyes from the pea green liquid of her own bowl. “Actually,” she
commented, eyes glinting with mischief. “I did manage to glimpse under the hood
of that courier which carried off the new Queen. I would swear in a court of
law that it was Lord Dylan of West Beach.”
Cora looked puzzled, taken momentarily off guard by the unfamiliar name. But
both Kings nodded, their expressions grim. “The Nevic Navy admiral,” Leopold
growled, throwing his ladle into the bowl dramatically, but only succeeding in
splattering his tunic with pea green soup.
“Neverland are responsible for abducting my daughter?” Cora asked softly, a
dangerous glint in her eye.
Whoops, Snow thought gleefully to herself; she might have started a war between
three nations but perhaps in the ensuing chaos she and Charming could take the
Nevic throne and Emma and Regina would get away clean.
But first she had to get through this damned dinner.
Her father, in his usual blunt and unapologetic manner, broke the silence.
“With your daughter’s disappearance, second disappearance, I see my chances of
producing an heir are rapidly declining.”
King Henry began to mumble polite apologies, as Snow was starting to ascertain
was his manner. His wife, obstinate as the King was not, kept her mouth closed
and her flinty gaze on Leopold.
“So I’ve decided to make my dearest daughter Crown Princess and Heir
Presumptive, at least until your daughter bears me a son.”
Dead silence rang out at King Leopold’s announcement. And then there was a
tinkling of breaking glass as Queen Cora dropped her goblet on the stone floor.
Henry gaped at Leopold, fish fork halfway to his mouth.
But all Snow felt was shock, the laces of the corset she resentfully wore
becoming tighter and tighter around her chest.
Thankfully she was saved from having to make a response; as numb as she was, it
was unlikely she would have said anything inoffensive to her father. She was
saved by a messenger boy, timidly entering the room. “Yes, boy?” The King
demanded, holding out a hand.
“For Queen Cora,” he said in barely more than a whisper, walking over to the
other woman and depositing a ragged-looking piece of parchment in her palm.
The Queen, never losing her poise for a moment, gently unfolded the parchment
and read it quickly. “Dearest Leopold,” she smiled with her mouth, but not her
eyes. “I may have the solution to all of your problems.”
 
It was only when Emma emerged up onto the main deck that she realised just how
severely she had underestimated Queen Cora of Springlands.
The Queen stood, in all her regal glory, in the centre of Emma’s deck like she
didn’t have so much as a care in the world. Emma supposed that she didn’t
really, considering the legions of men in Springlands colours who were rounding
up the last of her crew and putting them all in manacles.
“Henry,” Emma spoke out of the corner of her mouth, pushing her son behind her
back. “Go below deck and stay there, do you understand?”
“But mother-“
She gave him a little push, hard enough to convince him that she wasn’t in any
way joking. A moment later the warmth at her back disappeared and she exhaled
in relief that her son was safe. Then she swallowed, let her fingers nervously
wrap around the hilt of her sword and stepped out onto the main deck of The
Bloody Blade.
Cora spied her immediately, and once again Emma was forced to re-evaluate the
Queen of Springlands. She seemed somehow… sharper, than most others. “Captain
Swan…” She beckoned to Emma. “Come closer.”
As loathe as she was to follow Regina’s abhorrent mother’s orders, Emma stepped
closer and into the space that had cleared around Cora. And then saw the worst
of it all. At Cora’s feet, Regina knelt, hands tied behind her back. They
shimmered slightly purple.
Magic.
Emma’s eyes immediately darted up, jumping from presence to presence until she
found the one she was looking for. Rumplestiltskin leant, oh-so-casually,
against the mast. She knew it was a mistake to let him aboard her vessel, but
she had been distracted by the death of her best friend and not thinking
straight.
Now she was paying the price of letting her guard down.
“Your majesty,” Emma dipped a very brief bow for Cora. She was at a very
distinct disadvantage here, her crew all manacled and at least half a company
of soldiers pointing their swords at her. Courtesy was probably the best weapon
in her armoury. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
The Queen’s answering smile was more predatory than gracious. “No pleasure
today, Swan. All business, I’m afraid.”
“No need to hold my men,” Emma tried on her most charming smile, her business
smile. The one she wore right before she had the satisfaction of killing an
opponent. “Your Majesty knows that I am your most loyal subject. We can
negotiate in private.”
King Leopold of Winterlands, whom Emma had not noticed up until that point,
stepped forward with his pudgy hand on his sword. “This is not a negotiation,”
he growled and Emma could see an inch of steel slide away from the scabbard.
Let him try, Emma thought viciously. She’d like another shot to impale the King
right through his heart.
“Let me handle this,” Cora held up a hand to stop Leopold in his track, which
Emma knew was a bad move the moment she saw it happen. Leopold was not the type
to let a woman just take care of things, and he drew his sword.
It was an impressive thing for sure, but Emma curled her own fist tighter
around Caliburn’s hilt and knew that she had the superior weapon. Caliburn had
once belonged to Summer, the eldest daughter of Zoso. It had been forged before
the Split of Nevermore and was part of an ancient prophecy. Emma had won it
from a dragon. Leopold’s bit of steel, however finely made, simply could not
compare.
But then Leopold had fifty soldiers behind him. Emma had the wind in her hair.
“On your knees, chit,” he ordered. “And I might consider letting you go free
once my Queen is back in my possession.”
It was barely even a choice as Emma drew Caliburn. She had never taken shit
from anybody, not family, crew, strangers… and definitely not a rapist
masquerading as a King.
“I would rather be dead,” she spat, levelling her blade at Leopold and not
caring for a second that at least ten soldiers had stepped towards her, murder
in their eyes. “Than let you take Regina for your own.”
Leopold opened his mouth, presumably to cut her down, but suddenly his entire
being was encased in purple sparks, like the ones on Regina’s wrists, and he
was frozen.
“Now, now, children,” Rumple stepped forward, carelessly brushing lint off of
his dangerous fingers. “There is no use in killing one another over something
neither of you may have.”
Emma opened her mouth to deny the words, but as she tried to part her lips, she
found that she couldn’t. The bastard had frozen her, just as he had frozen
Leopold.
“Rumple!” Cora protested as she looked at the frozen look of indignation on
King Leopold’s face. “Regina is the Queen of Winterlands now, and Leopold’s
wife. You cannot –“
Rumple giggled and Emma would have screwed up her nose in distaste if she had
had the option. That giggle of his had always irked her. “I would remind you,
dearie, that you signed a contract, promising me our first-born child. Regina
is mine.”
 Cora slowly shook her head from side to side, while a chunk of ice dropped
through Emma’s stomach. Our child? Regina was the child of Cora and
Rumplestiltskin? She was Bae’s half-sister, and Henry’s aunt? If she were
physically able, Emma would have buried her head in her arms and refused to
come back up until everything made sense again.
“But – but Daddy…” Regina trailed off, her eyes swinging wildly from Cora to
Rumple and back again. “Daddy’s not…?”
“Your father? Henry?” Cora spared a brief glace at the woman on the floor. It
was paradoxical almost, how fiercely they were arguing over Regina, and yet how
little attention they seemed to pay her. “No, Rumple is responsible for you,
dear.”
“Do what you promised twenty two years ago,” Rumple almost sneered at Cora.
“She is well past her eighteenth birthday. Hand her over.”
And with this, Emma realised the answer to the question that had been bothering
her. Why hadn’t Rumple just taken Regina before, if Cora had promised him their
first-born? Cora was the one who had to hand Regina over, to fulfil their
bargin, and she should have done it on the Princess’s eighteenth birthday. That
was why she had organised a marriage for Regina at seventeen. By running away,
Regina had saved herself from that and inadvertently from Rumple… whatever he
wanted with his daughter.
“No,” Cora refused heatedly. “She’s not yours, and she’s certainly not Swan’s.”
At this she casts a disdainful glance at Emma. “She’s King Leopold’s wife and
above all else, she is mydaughter!”
Rumple’s hand lit up in flames and Emma was suddenly sure that everything was
going to go wrong and Cora drew a knife from somewhere – Regina screamed –
Rumple yelled – and suddenly Emma was free and running forward…
“SHE’S MINE!” Cora screamed repeatedly somewhere in the background and Emma
dropped to the ground and Leopold was shouting and yelling…
Regina gargled, blood spilling from her lips. “Emma…”
The Captain dropped to her knees and held her lover’s head in her hands as
gently as she could. Cora’s knife was buried in her chest and she was
struggling to breathe. Rage and shock burned through the pirate’s veins and she
looked up fiercely at Rumple. “She won’t be anybody’s if you don’t fucking do
something!”
Rumple looked with shock at the dagger in Regina’s chest. “There is…
something…” he says, looking as conflicted as she has ever seen the magician.
“She’s dying!” Emma’s voice broke on the last word and she was ashamed to feel
a tear leak out of her eye and dribble all the way down her cheek. When she
looked back up, Rumple had gone and she took his disappearance as confirmation
that he wouldn’t do anything to save his and Cora’s daughter, Leopold’s wife,
and Emma’s true love.
Emma pressed their foreheads together, tears coming strong and true from her
eyes. She was surprised to feel a hand on her shoulder, and turned to see Snow
crying behind her. The last she had seen her step-mother, she had been trapped
behind the gates of the Springland’s castle. But as her lover lay dying in her
arms, the exact why and howdid not even slightly trouble Emma.
There was a sudden scream from where her crew were being kept and Emma looked
up in surprise, to see a sight she had never expected to see. Rumple standing
by his son, his heart in his hands. “EMMA!” Bae screamed, his hand over his now
empty chest. “STOP HIM. PLEASE.”
But Emma could barely process what the hell was going on and she was too far
gone to care about Bae. Rumple dropped to his knees beside her and Regina, who
was still breathing, and held up Henry’s father’s heart. “The heart of thing I
love most,” he said, not shedding a tear, but looking as emotionally unhinged
as Emma had ever known him to be in over two centuries. “I’m going to cast a
curse.”
“Will it save her?” It was all Emma wanted to know. She was ashamed to admit
that if Bae had to be sacrificed to save Regina, it was a choice she would make
in a heartbeat.
“Yes,” Rumple waved his hand and a fire sprung up beside him. It charred the
beautiful floorboards of the Bloody Blade, but Emma didn’t even notice. “I need
a strand of hair from four evil souls to complete the spell,” Rumple told her,
waving a hand to sever a lock of his own hair and throwing it on the fire.
Without hesitation, Emma took her knife from her own belt and cut a lock of her
own blonde curls, giving that to Rumple. “Cora and Leopold?”
“They will do,” Rumple nodded, looking down at Regina, whose eyes were no
longer open, but whose chest still moved. “Hurry!”
Emma had been too concerned with her lover to notice Cora and Leopold, but now
when she was desperately searching for them, she found him standing over her on
the stairs of Emma’s vessel, his sword sticking out of her chest. “Kinslayer!”
He was yelling. “You murdered my wife!” In a fit of rage and furious that she
wouldn’t be able to kill Cora herself, Emma drew Caliburn and thrusted it right
through Leopold’s chest.
It slid through delightfully easily. Leopold’s words halted and he fell slowly.
Emma grabbed a tuft of hair as he sank to the floor and yanked it right out of
his head. Pulling a few strands from Cora as well, Emma hurried back to Rumple
and handed over the hair.
Rumple threw it in the fire. Then he took up his son’s heart.
“PAPA!” Bae roared from across the deck. “DON’T-“
Staring fiercely down at Regina’s face, the only way that Emma knew that Rumple
had completed the spell was when the yelling abruptly cut off. She chanced a
glance upwards at the magician’s face. Green smoke was beginning to rise all
around them, obfuscating Emma’s sight.
“What’s happening?” She croaked, voice thick with tears.
“We’re going…” he trailed off, searching for the right words. “Somewhere new.
Somewhere where she can be healed.”
Emma breathed in and green smoke filled her nostrils.
She pressed her forehead against Regina’s as the ground dropped away beneath
them. Then everything went black and Captain Emma Swan was no more.
***** And Turn Your Sail Towards Home! *****
Chapter Notes
     Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time does not belong to me, nor their
     characters or plots. The plot of this fanfiction belongs to
     shikabane-mai, and the artwork she drew can be found: post/
     46770603575/captain-emma-swan-and-her-former- bounty-mark
     AN: The end of the road! And although it’s been a bit of a tumultuous
     journey at times, I am still genuinely happy with how this fic has
     turned out. I am also well aware that nobody except me has read this
     chapter, so I have no idea if it’ll be as crappy as the HIMYM finale
     or if you guys will like it. But if you’d like to discuss it with me,
     my tumblr ask box is always open at: the-scabbard.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Rumplestiltskin’s cane seemed to reverberate louder on hospital floors than
anywhere else. Perhaps because in spite of the background noise, hospitals
always seemed to have a quiet, respectful hush. Even in the Maternity ward, a
place of happiness and life, it was quiet today.
Perhaps it was just the effect that Rumple had on people.
Even though he had lost all of his powers when he had cursed Nevermore and
travelled to a land without magic, he still retained the power to make people
hush in fear and respect. Which was probably because his loss of magic had been
compensated by his new wealth.
Rumple tapped his way down to the end of the ward, where new parents were
watching his approach with trepidation, their baby sleeping happily in their
arms.
“Mr Nolan,” Rumple nodded to the father, then to the mother. “Miss Blanchard.”
“Gold.” The man who had been known as Charming in what now felt like another
life looked up at him warily. His well-callused fingers caressed his newborn’s
bald scalp. “We haven’t even had a chance to name –“
“Well you better do it quickly, then dearies,” Rumple snarled, feeling
impatience settle in his bones. “I haven’t got time to spare.”
Charming looked angry still, but it appeared that Snow still possessed a
modicum of determination which Rumple had once respected her for. “David,” she
brought his attention back to her and their new son. “Do you like James?”
“No,” Charming shook his head. “I don’t want my family having any connection to
our son. I like…” he hesitated and Rumple restrained himself from beating the
man over the head with his cane. “Alex.”
Rumple hobbled to the side of the bed. “Alex, it is,” he said impatiently.
“Hand him over.”
Snow kissed the top of his head, then offered up her baby with admirable
strength. She opened her mouth to say something but then closed it again.
Smart, really. The longer goodbyes were eked out, the more they hurt.
He would know. He had one waiting for him when he got home.
 
Henry was too old for tears, he had decided soon after the curse was cast and
he had realised that few others remembered Nevermore and the life they had once
lived. But all of the steps that had been taken towards a real life had been
undone. Finding his birth mother, his parents falling in love with one another,
Emma saving his real mother from marrying a bad man… Henry had thought that
they would be happy. Eventually.
Emma had told him to go below deck in those fateful moments before the curse
had been cast.
And because he was her son, Regina’s son, Bae’s son… he had not. He wouldn’t,
he couldn’t sit below when he sensed that everything was about to go very wrong
indeed. At least his instincts had been dead on.
But he had witnessed terrible things. Emma ready to die for Regina at the hands
of all those soldiers. His mother on her knees at Cora’s feet. Cora stabbing
Regina and dying at Leopold’s hands. Emma thrusting her sword right through the
King. And Rumple ripping Henry’s father’s heart right from his chest and
throwing it in a fire.
Henry had cried on the stairs as green smoke had enveloped them all.
“Henry?” Someone asked from behind him. “Are you okay?”
He was sitting on the stairs now. They were part of a house, not part of a
ship, but they were where he had woken up after the curse. Whenever he missed
his mothers, his father, his old life, he came to sit here and think. So he
wouldn’t forget. After eight months and three weeks, he was hardly in danger of
that. But time was frozen here too, like it had been on The Bloody Blade, and
Henry’s memories would fade.
“I’m fine,” he said, and took the mug of tea which Belle had offered him.
“Just… thinking.”
The other woman, whose beauty had not abated during their transition through
time and place, sat down on the step next to him. “Are you nervous?”
“No,” Henry told her, and it was the truth. “We’ve gone over the plan more
times than I can count.”
Belle placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Planning to take a baby into
an unknown world is very different from actually doing it, Henry.”
“I know,” Henry nodded. “But I’m not worried about that.”
“What are you worried about?” Belle enquired, obviously having picked up on the
unsaid part of his sentence.
“Forgetting,” Henry admitted. “Not remembering my parents. I have this image of
my moms, from before the curse was cast. Rumple was about to drop dad’s heart
in that fire… and… Emma, she was holding mom. And she leaned down and their
foreheads touched… just before the smoke covered them.”
Belle’s hand migrated to his other shoulder and she pulled him into her side.
Rumple’s girlfriend had become a maternal figure to him in the last few months,
as they all adjusted to living in a completely different world, the only people
who remembered Nevermore.
“Hold onto that image,” Belle told him, a little hoarser than usual. “And you
won’t ever forget your parents.”
There came a jangling of a key in the lock. Belle gave him one last squeeze,
then got up from the step and opened the door to reveal Rumple, struggling to
open the door with a baby in one arm. Belle cooed, her face noticeably
softening as she took the baby in her arms.
“His name’s Alex,” Rumple sighed like he had had a long day, and shut the door
behind him. His eyes locked on Henry, still sitting quietly on the stairs. “Are
you packed, Henry?”
“Almost,” the ten-year-old replied to his grandfather. “I left space for those
photographs you promised.”
Rumple tossed him a small rucksack, brand new with the label still affixed to
one of the straps. “They’re both in there, as well as the cash we talked about,
a phone with all the useful numbers I could think of. Your bus and aeroplane
tickets are in the front pocket.”
Henry slung the rucksack over his shoulder and gave Rumple a brief hug.
“Thanks, Grandpa,” he smiled up at Rumple and bounded back up the stairs.
 
Dinner was a solemn affair that night, despite the new presence who was only in
the next room. Henry’s bags lay by the door, ready for him to carry to the bus
stop.
“We’ll see you again, Henry,” Belle said softly after a while, breaking the
silence. “You’ll be back in Storybrooke before you even realise.”
“You won’t recognise me,” Henry smiled through a mouthful of spaghetti
Bolognese.
Belle laughed her dainty snicker, wetting her thumb and wiping the beef sauce
off Henry’s upper lip. “I hope you’ll be a lot more civilised then.”
Rumple watched the scene, more domesticated than he had ever had the right to
expect. When he had cast the curse, he had seen what had to be. He had been
granted one last prophetic vision before he had been stripped of all his
powers. Rumple had foreseen Snow and Charming’s baby, had known that Henry
would have the most important part to play in taking the baby away. The baby
was the saviour, the child that would break Rumple’s curse.
 
28 Years Later
The wood creaked beneath Emma Swan’s feet as she stepped out onto the deck and
lifted her face up to the sun for what felt like the first time since October.
It was so damned dark in the winter months, but when she had drowsily rolled up
the blind that morning, sunshine had glared happily through.
How cold could the water be? In sunshine like that?
Now, as she stripped off her shirt and underwear, she almost had a change of
heart. The wind bit fiercely at her naked skin and gooseflesh broke out all
over her arms and legs. Nevertheless, Emma stepped up to the side of the ship,
took a deep breath and tensed her stomach muscles. Then, pushing off with her
feet, she propelled herself into the air and plunged down towards the water.
“Shit,” Emma gasped, breaking the surface. The sun was misleading; the water
still felt like it was February in Maine. Ice cold.
There was nobody around to hear her profanity. The fisherman, hardy folk with
skin as tough as nails, had probably gone out about an hour earlier. The
frequenters of the fish market wouldn’t arrive for at least another three. It
felt like she was all alone in the ocean as she kicked out, legs tensing as she
propelled herself forward.
She had been swimming in the mornings for as long as she could remember,
definitely since she’d had her beautiful ship. But even before that, a past
that was murky to say the least, she had a feeling that she’d loved the fresh
cold saltwater.
Her only jewellery was the ring around her neck, so Emma’s method of telling
the time was only through the sun and the general populous of the dock. When
the rays of sunshine began to glare across the water, and the first fishing
boat came back in, she knew it was time to get out before she gave the fish
buyers an inadvertent show.
“Good morning, dearie,” somebody said from over to her left and Emma grabbed
her knife where she had left it on the side before spinning around to face the
intruder.
Mr Gold. The monetary owner of the town and husband of the Mayor. Notorious
businessman. Emma had never liked him, but she couldn’t quite remember why.
“Gold,” she greeted shortly, setting the knife back down again and pulling the
shirt she’d stripped off over her naked body. “If you’re here to complain,
office hours don’t start until eight.”
“No complaints, dearie,” he informed her, eyes still fixed on her own as Emma
pulled her jeans up her thighs and over her hips.
“Then why are you here?” She asked, jamming her Sheriff’s badge back into the
waistband of the denim. “If Leroy is refusing to pay his rent again, you gotta
know by now there’s sweet fuck all I can do about it –“
“Again,” Mr Gold told her with a slight hint of impatience. “Not why I’m here.”
Emma finally got the hint and stopped moving, sitting herself down on a wooden
box that contained her quarterly stock of dried food. There was no electricity
on a ship, which was plenty alright except for the slight problem of fresh
food. But she wasn’t a breakfast eater and lunch was at Granny’s, so the food
thing wasn’t really an issue most of the time.
“My boy’s coming home,” Mr Gold eventually said. “We’re having a little welcome
back dinner at Granny’s and we…” his face screwed up in a pained sort of way.
“We would appreciate it if you, David and Mary-Margaret would attend.”
“Your boy?” Emma screwed her face up as she demanded things of her memory.
“Henry, right? God, he hasn’t been around in years…”
Gold’s cane drummed a little on the ground. Emma winced at the sound. Being the
town Sheriff and what passed for the law, she had come to be familiar with that
sound. And the impatience it signified. “Quite, Sheriff,” the older man said,
not without some bite. “Will your family be attending?”
“Sure,” Emma shrugged easily, pulling her damp hair into a ponytail and
standing up to pull on her leather jacket. “Mary-Margaret might even find it in
her heart to bake a cake.”
 
The Sheriff of Storybrooke strolled down the main street towards the station,
her hands in her pockets and in no particular rush. With a town as quiet as
this one and a Mayor so benevolent, a little tardiness wasn’t likely to get her
in too much trouble. Besides, she liked spending a little time in the streets.
For reasons unknown, she’d always detested the urban lifestyle and had lived on
her ship for… well, for years now. But she found that she didn’t mind at all
strolling around the town, still in the fresh air but getting a feel for the
life of Storybrooke.
And it was a buzzing life. The produce market was already open and the luckier
fishermen were dumping baskets of recently-living fish on stalls and on the
floor in front. Familiar faces could be seen ducking in and out of Grannies,
which was Emma’s first stop before checking in at the station.
But then her keenly honed senses told her that something was… off.
She paused in the middle of the hustle and bustle, and observed. Yes, everybody
was going about their business in their normal fashion, but every so often
somebody would glance in Emma’s direction, but above her head. Far above it.
Right up to…
The clock tower. Hardly worth glancing at, considering that it had never worked
in living memory.
And yet… Emma found herself succumbing to her own weak curiosities.
She turned around, craning her neck to get a good look at the clock face. And
proceeded to get the shock of her life. The clock tower had been stuck at 8:15
for as long as anyone, including Emma, could remember, and now it was most
definitely at 7:54.
“Odd, isn’t it?”
Emma felt the presence of her friend and sister-in-law at her side as they both
gazed upwards. Mary-Margaret Nolan was not a woman whom Emma would have
befriended, had her brother David remained unmarried. But a series of tragedies
had struck the young couple years ago and they made it impossible to see Mary-
Margaret as anything other than the truly admirable person she was.
“Very odd,” Emma agreed, turning to her sister-in-law with a smile. “Can you
remember the last time it was working?”
“No,” Mary-Margaret shook her head. “It’s strange, but I’ve always had the idea
that it was just… built that way.”
Emma quirked her eyebrow, but chose not to dispute the point. Mary-Margaret’s
strength as a person didn’t detract from the occasional irritation Emma felt
with her fanciful ways, but for peace’s sake she always tried to avoid conflict
with the second and only other member of her family.
“Oh by the way,” the Sheriff recalled her early morning visitor. “Mr Gold came
to see me. He’s throwing a welcome home party for his son and wants us to go.”
Mary-Margaret’s face tightened and Emma placed a hand on her arm. Gold was a
sore point for her friend, ever since they’d given up their baby to him. She
always hated to remind her brother and his wife of what they’d lost, especially
since they hadn’t been able to conceive since.
“We don’t have to go, if you don’t want to…” she offered weakly.
“No,” Mary-Margaret smiled forcefully. “It was a long time ago. Things were
different. Besides, it’ll be interesting to see how Henry’s grown!” Her brow
furrowed. “I can’t remember how many years ago it was that he left.”
“Me neither,” Emma admitted as she held open the door to Granny’s for the
brunette. “I suppose we’ll get a nasty shock. He must be through school by
now.”
 
She sat on her desk, scrap paper balled up in her fist as Emma carefully aimed
at the bin. With a flick of her wrist, it sailed over the rim to join the rest
of the waste.
“Town council money going to a good cause, I see,” an amused voice came from
the door and Emma looked over, hopping off the desk on reflex. The man who had
spoken was completely unfamiliar to her, yet spoke in a teasing way, like he
knew her. Knew her well.
He was dark-haired and soft-eyed, with a little stubble that made his face look
much more masculine than it would have otherwise done. He was cute and even
sexy, this stranger, but despite Emma’s very long dry spell and lack of
romantic prospects, she felt about the same amount of instantaneous attraction
to him as she did when she looked at Leroy, the town drunk or even her own
brother David.
“Henry,” he held out his hand when he seemed to realise that she did not
recognise him. “I’m Gold’s… son.” He hesitated over the last word, like it was
a lie or a truth he had some difficulty with.
Emma breathed out, looking the man up and down. She knew that it had been a
while, a long time in fact since Henry Gold had left town. But the man that
stood in front of her was easily thirty, maybe older. It made her wonder about
her own age briefly, which oddly enough gave her a throbbing sensation in her
temples before she stopped thinking about it.
“Jesus,” she breathed out, eyes finally resting on his own again. “I can
remember you as a kid. How old are you now?”
“That would be telling,” he laughed, shaking her hand.
Emma laughed too, more out of discomfort than humour. “So what brings you back
to small town life? Family? Your mom’s still the Mayor, your dad’s still
terrorising innocent homeowners. Not much has changed in…” She paused, trying
to calculate how many years it had been since she had seen Gold’s son last and
quickly gave up. Again.
“Yeah,” Henry shrugged. “Something like that.”
“So…” Emma trailed off, slightly mystified about why the man had come to see
her. He was barely a memory, a small boy who had been around town when he was a
kid, but had been sent away by his parents at some indeterminable point in
time. Boarding school, she thought the official story had been. So why had she
stuck in his mind as somebody to come back and visit? Perhaps he was just
making visits around town, as it were? “I bet your mom’s pleased to have you
back.”
“I haven’t been to see her yet,” Henry shrugged, taking a seat at David’s desk.
She had sent him home early, having nothing to do herself, let alone enough
work for a deputy.
Odder and odder, Emma thought to herself. Of course Belle was a busy woman, she
had a town to run after all, but surely the Mayor could’ve made ten minutes in
her day to see her own son. “So…” Emma trailed off after a while, unsure of
what to say. “Can I do anything for you?”
Henry looked at her, in an uncomfortable sort of way. Like he was searching for
something in her. But after a moment, his eyes hardened and he got up from
David’s desk. “No, thank you Sheriff,” he told her pleasantly enough, but Emma
knew he was in some way disappointed. Whatever he had been looking for, he
hadn’t found it. “I’ll see you at the party?”
“You bet,” she nodded at him, scrunching up another piece of paper in her hand
as he left.
 
Predictably, Mary-Margaret stopped just short of the door to Granny’s.
She held the cake she had made in her trembling arms, so Emma deftly rescued it
whilst David put a comforting arm around her shivering shoulders. “We don’t
have to go in,” he told her, in as soft a voice as Emma had ever heard him use.
“Nobody will miss us.”
It was a sentiment that wasn’t entirely true, and they all knew it. From the
looks of it, most of the town had turned up to Granny’s to welcome home the
prodigal son. As the Sheriff, and David her deputy, they both had a neighbourly
duty to attend such events. But neither wanted to compromise on Mary-Margaret’s
well-being.
“I’m sorry,” David’s wife shook her arms out and took a deep breath. “It’s
just… hard for me to come to terms with the fact that he has his son back while
I… we’ve lost our son forever.”
David’s hand rubbed up and down her arm as he whispered soothing words. Emma
was shivering herself, having not dressed herself well enough to spend more
than a few minutes outside in the cold.
“No, it’s fine,” her sister-in-law finally stated, hugging herself together
with her hands and inadvertently brushing away David’s. “Let’s go in. We…” she
hesitated. “We don’t have to stay too long though, right?”
“Right,” David nodded fervently, making eyes at Emma as though she would do
anything but agree, even though she lived entirely separately to them and it
made no difference to her how long they stayed.
Emma pushed the door open and slipped to the side, placing the cake on a nearby
table and watching as the Storybrooke citizens present greeted David and Mary-
Margaret. As Deputy Sheriff and school teacher respectively, the couple were
well-known and well-loved by all. Emma, although David’s superior, tended to
deal with the more serious crimes; murder, rape, theft and the suchlike. Her
brother was the town hero that rescued cats from trees and walked little old
ladies across the roads.
Emma spotted Henry almost immediately. He was the centre of attention, and
clearly not too comfortable about it. All of a sudden, he broke eye contact
with his mother, the Mayor, and looked straight at her. And smiled widely.
She smiled back, a little uncertain. All day she had been wracking her brains,
trying to recall if she had done him a favour or helped him out when he was
younger, or done anything that would have given him a lasting impression of
her. Henry’s eyes shifted past her face to a spot just over her shoulder and
smiled anew, just as she heard a deep “hello”.
Emma turned around, to see an entirely new face. For the second time today, she
was flummoxed that a stranger was in town. After all, the last time somebody
had moved here was… in fact, Emma couldn’t even remember the last time somebody
had moved here.
“Sheriff Emma Swan,” she put her hand out to introduce herself. “Are you a
friend of Henry’s?”
The stranger chuckled in a low sort of voice. He looked a little young to be
Henry’s peer; perhaps a decade younger than Gold’s son. “He’s actually my
nephew, if you can believe it? I’m Alex, by the way. Alex French.”
“Mayor French’s brother?” Emma guessed, releasing Alex’s hand. “That’s a bit of
an age gap.”
Alex took a gulp from his beer mug. “Yeah,” he laughed that low chuckle once
more. “You wouldn’t believe it, would you?”
Emma looked at Alex’s face, then over at Belle’s and back again. She internally
snorted. She herself looked more like a sister of Alex than Belle did. They
bore no resemblance to one another whatsoever.
“No,” she agreed with a smile. “So how long are you in town for, Alex?”
“I don’t know,” said Belle’s brother. “I have something to take care of before
I leave, but I don’t know how long it’s going to take.”
“Anything I can help with?” Emma raised an eyebrow, sipping at her drink.
Alex looked at her speculatively. “Maybe,” he hedged. “Can I have your card?”
This time, Emma was the one chuckling. “Sorry kid,” she replied. “I’m not a
professional.” She grabbed a napkin and scrawled down a series of numbers.
“Have this instead.”
He took it and stuffed it in his pocket. “Well it was nice to meet you, Emma
Swan,” he grinned, and then turned around and left the establishment, letting
some cold air in as he escaped through the door.
“Who was that?” Mary-Margaret asked, coming to stand next to her as they watch
the head of bright blonde hair disappear behind Granny’s hedges.
“Mayor French’s brother, Alex,” Emma shrugged, turning to face her sister-in-
law. “Fancy some cake?”
 
Sunday night dinner at the Gold household was usually quite subdued. After
many, many years together, Belle and Rumple had refined their conversation down
to topics like literature and the pawn shop’s budget. They had discussed their
lives in Nevermore to death and back. Their long affair whilst Rumple had been
in Tortuga and Belle had been a Navigator on The Bloody Blade. Rumple’s various
misdeeds. The curse he had cast out of desperation to save his daughter’s life.
But now Henry was home and he had brought Alex back with him. Alex, who had
been a part of their family for an hour before Belle and Rumple had loaded the
two children on a bus and away from Storybrooke. And suddenly the dinner table
had new dynamics.
“Have you been to see your mother yet, Henry?” Belle asked as she received the
mashed potatoes from the other end of the table.
“I visited Emma at the station yesterday,” he nodded, spooning vegetables into
his mouth. “And I’m planning on paying mom a visit tomorrow.”
“Why not this morning?” Rumple wanted to know, cutting up his steak. “I know
your mom’s not going anywhere, but you haven’t seen her in twenty eight years,
Henry.”
“It was volunteer day at the hospital,” Henry said shortly. “I don’t want to be
interrupted when I visit.”
Belle smiled, keen to keep the conversation moving. Now Henry was a grown man,
she had suspected that he would be a lot more judgemental of Rumple and his
choice’s than he had been when he was a child. It would not do to have all the
unsaid animosity come out at their first dinner, meeting Alex again.
“What about you, Alex honey?” She asked, offering him potatoes. “Have you seen
David and Mary-Margaret yet?”
He took them and spooned one onto his plate. “No,” he said shortly to her,
shovelling food into his mouth at a lightning-fast rate.
“Oh,” Belle replied softly, surprised by his abrupt words. It was true that he
hadn’t said much upon arrival earlier that day, just a mumble of thanks as she
brought him a cup of tea in the guest bedroom, but she had attributed that to
shyness or nerves. But now she was forced to re-evaluate. He was the son of
Snow and Charming, the brother of Captain Swan, of course he did not suffer
from being meek. “Are you planning on –“
“No,” he said again, cutting her off before she could finish her sentence. “I’m
just here for Henry’s sake. Once I fulfil my part in this dumb prophecy, I’ll
be hauling ass out of here.” He swallowed his last bite and departed up the
stairs, leaving his dirty plate on the table.
Rumple stood abruptly, quiet rage on his face but oddly unsteady as he reached
for the cane that he needed in this world, since there was no magic here. He
was about to limp after Alex when Henry stood too and laid a hand on his arm.
“Don’t, grandpa,” he said in a warning tone. “Unlike the rest of us, he is not
indebted to you. The only thing you can accomplish by going after him is
driving him away.”
They held eyes for a second, grandfather and grandson, whilst Belle held only
her breath. Then, much to her shock, Rumple nodded and sat back down. “Thanks
for dinner, Belle,” Henry said, reservedly polite as he took his and Alex’s
plates out to the kitchen, leaving she and Rumple alone once more.
 
Her phone rang just as she was stepping out of the shower and Emma cursed as
she almost lost her balance, steading herself on the towel rail. She fished her
way through her jeans’ pockets, searching for the damned device, resulting in
her breathing heavily into the phone when she picked up. “Hello?”
“Did I interrupt something?” Asked an amused voice that she recognised from
only its low, melodic tone.
She straightened up, suddenly and painfully aware that she was stark naked in
the women’s locker room. “Alex,” she half-whispered, hoping to God there wasn’t
anybody outside as she wrapped a towel around her body. “What’s up?” She peered
round the stall curtain and breathed a sigh of relief when she realised she was
alone.
“Why are you whispering?” The man she had met only the other day said in that
same, amused manner of his.
It was a balancing act, propping her phone between her head and shoulder and
shimmying into her skin-tight jeans at the same time, but Emma managed it.
“Locker room,” she replied shortly. “I didn’t know whether or not I was alone.”
“Anyway,” Alex laughed. “I was wondering if you were free for coffee this
morning? I rang the station first, but your brother told me you had the night
shift.”
Emma paused mid-buttoning of her shirt, leaving it hanging open. “Erm…” she
trailed off indecisively.
“I’m buying,” Alex told her, attempting to capture her interest. “C’mon,
please?”
“A friendly coffee,” Emma finally gave in, folding her jacket over her arm as
she exited the locker room. “Nothing more. Meet me in ten?”
She was left with only a dial tone. “Polite,” she muttered to herself as she
stuffed it back in her pocket. Asshole.
 
“I don’t appreciate being hung up on,” was the first thing out of Emma’s mouth
as she sat down opposite Alex. “So you owe me a coffee anda bear claw.”
The blond man smiled in a manner that should have come across as charming and
alluring, but oddly did nothing to inspire Emma. “Coming right up,” he said as
he slid out of the booth, leaving Emma with nothing to look at but his
briefcase.
Sneaking a glance over at the counter, where Granny was holding a menacing
looking wooden spoon as Alex chatted, Emma made a grab for the case. She was a
Sheriff first and foremost, and made it her task to investigate every strange
going-on in town. Including spontaneous visitors, even if they were relatives
of the Mayor.
The first section revealed a passport, driver’s licence and some other
meaningless papers. She pocketed the passport and kept searching. The second
section yielded only a compact laptop. But the third… she pulled her successful
find out of the case and set it down on the table. It was too big to take away
with her, so Emma flicked open the cover of the large book and took a quick
photo with her phone of the introduction, to read later. Then she stuffed
everything but the passport back into the briefcase and put it back where Alex
had left it, just as he arrived back at the booth with her coffee and pastry.
“One bear claw,” Alex announced, sliding the plate along to her. She smiled in
thanks, sipped her coffee and pondered the conundrum of Alex French as they
engaged in light conversation.
 
“Fuck.”
Emma lifted her head from where she had been drilling nails into her stair
railing to look at Alex. He was half-jumping up and down, sucking his thumb and
grimacing. She surmised that he had managed to make the amateur mistake of
hammering his thumb instead of the nail.
“Alright?” She called over, wiping a few sweaty strands of hair from her
forehead. “You’ve not broken any of my ship, right?”
Alex glared at her, stalking over and shoving his thumb into her thumb. “That’s
going to bruise,” she told him in a very matter of fact sort of way.
“Would it kill you to show a bit of sympathy, woman?” He demanded of her and
sat down on the step she had just finished building with a thump.
“Hey!” She warned him. “You really will injure the ship at this rate.”
He made a childish face at her and continued to suck his own injury. She
laughed and turned back to her drilling.
There was a pause. Emma continued her task, but listening all the while until…
“Can we not just pack up early?”
“Fine, French,” she rolled her eyes as she packed her drill carefully away.
“But you’re buying the first round.”
 
The kettle began to whistle on the stove, cutting through the thick tension
with a knife. But the three of them continued to sit there, not really looking
at each other but none willing to break the impasse by removing the kettle.
Finally, Mary-Margaret stood. “I’ll go and make the tea,” she said quietly.
She left David and Emma, both equally bad at talking things through. Neither
determined to do so but both knowing that they had to.
“Are you… okay… with this?” David asked her quietly.
Emma lifted her head from where she had been staring at a piece of kitchen
table for the last couple of minutes. “I’m okay,” she said slowly, picking and
discarding words as she spoke. “I’m just a little… surprised,” she added
carefully. “I thought Dr Whale said it was impossible for Mary-Margaret to…”
“Have any more babies?” David finished for her. He shook his head. “We thought
so too, and it’s been so long since then, we’d kind of… forgotten?”
“But she’s…” Emma closed her eyes in disbelief at what she was about to say.
“Definitely pregnant?”
“Yes,” David replied quietly.
There was an almost peaceable lull until Mary-Margaret set down mugs in front
of them both. Emma took a sip, grimaced and swallowed before attempting
congratulations.
“You don’t have to say it,” David told her just as she opened her mouth. “But
just know that even though there’ll be another person in our lives, she or he
will be your family too. We will all still be a family.” He placed his hand
over Emma’s. “I know we said it would be just the two of us when dad kicked us
out. But that didn’t change when I married Mary-Margaret and it won’t change
now, either.”
“I know,” she smiled at him. “Congrats, big brother. Name it after me.”
 
Emma tapped the bar, silently asking for another. ‘The Rabbit Hole’ was a dark,
dingy little place, not where a Sheriff should really be spending most of her
time. She groaned and folded her arms, resting her head on them and closing her
eyes. She just really didn’t give a damn.
“Not even midday,” that permanently amused voice commented. The sound of a body
sliding into a bar stool came from next to her and Emma scrunched up her nose.
“Fuck off, Alex,” she pushed weakly at his arm and he batted her off. “I want
to be alone.” She took a deep breath and sat up, grabbing the base of the glass
which the bartender had just set in front of her. She observed it, then lifted
and drained the whole thing in one go.
Only then did she turn to look at her friend, who cocked an eyebrow right back
at her.
“Want to tell me what’s up?” He asked, looking directly at her in a slightly
unnerving fashion.
She played with her glass, drumming the bottom against the wood of the bar for
a moment. Then took a deep breath. “I stole your passport,” she blurted out.
“When we first met and I didn’t know anything about you. I stole it. I made a
photocopy and put it back. And I ran your name. And I read the introduction of
that dumb book you keep in your briefcase.”
Throughout her confession, Alex kept a straight face, except a small twitch
when she mentioned his book. “I kind of guessed,” he admitted right back to
her. “You’re not nearly as subtle as you think you are. All my papers were
ruffled and my passport was missing for a few hours. Did you find out anything
interesting?”
She shook her head. “Not so much as a DUI.”
“So you took an interest,” Alex shrugged. “Doesn’t bother me. If you’d keptthe
passport, well that would’ve been different… but no harm done. So why are you
confessing?”
“This is why I don’t have anybody,” Emma told him, fixating on the grain of
wood she was resting her elbows on rather than looking at Alex. “I’m just so…
I’m so fucking lonely, Alex. And now my brother’s wife is pregnant and my own
family won’t have time for me anymore and I never know when you’re gonna leave
too and –“
The flow of words came to an abrupt halt and she let her head hit the drink
mat, hard.
There was a pause and a noticeable silence from her right, where Alex was
somehow still sitting calmly on his barstool. “Come with me,” he said after a
moment. “There’s something I think you need to see.”
 
Emma had dried the one or two tears that had accidentally fallen during her
rant by the time they pulled up at the place where Alex was taking her. Still
she had to blink a few times before she could quite comprehend where they were.
“Storybrooke General Hospital?” She asked incredulously. “Really?”
“C’mon,” he said, as roughly as she had ever heard him, and applied the
handbrake with excess force. “This is important.”
It better fucking be, Emma thought to herself as she let herself be dragged
through the doors and up four flights of stairs. Maybe a ward of kids with
terminal illness to tug at her heartstrings. She’d seen that kind of thing in
movies. The privileged, snotty protagonist coming to face with their trivial
problems by being confronting with life and death wrapped in the most heart-
breaking little bundle.
It really was devastating. And it really did work. Emma mentally prepared
herself.
But they weren’t on the oncology floor. They weren’t really on anyspecialist
floor, but it was a quiet one. Nurses bustled around, but there were no
pregnant women, no code blues, and no stretchers being rushed in. It was as
peaceful as Emma had ever seen a hospital.
“In here,” Alex said in a hushed voice and slid open the glass door. And in
Emma stepped.
The patient in this hospital bed was a woman. A beautiful woman, even in a
hospital gown and with a face free of any products. She breathed deeply,
peacefully, constantly. There was no sign that there was anything even wrong
with her.
“Why is she here?” Emma drew up a chair, barely even aware that she was doing
so, and sat down, propping her chin up on her hands.
“Stabbed in an alleyway when she was just twenty two years old,” Alex murmured,
as though he was respecting the peacefulness of the room. “She’s been in a coma
ever since. Barely anybody visits her and every doctor that has ever worked her
case says that the chances of her waking up are miniscule at best.”
Emma looked at the patient. Looked at how her long hair spread over the pillow,
how she breathed steadily with a little help from the nose tube that hooked
around her ears. How her pulse beat steadily on the monitors. “What’s her
name?” She asked Alex quietly.
“Regina,” Alex told her in reply. “Her name’s Regina Gold.”
The Sheriff of Storybrooke looked up at him sharply. “There’s no way she can be
Mayor French’s daughter. They must be the same age.”
“No,” Alex shook his head. “She’s not blood-related to Belle and myself. She’s
Gold’s daughter from a previous marriage. I’ve never really asked.”
“Does he not visit her?” Emma asked, a hint of incredulity in her voice.
“Not that I know of.”
 
After that, Emma made a point of stopping by Room F051 as often as she could.
Sometimes she brought flowers. Occasionally a bottle of wine, pouring two
glasses and drinking both.
But it was only once that she read to the coma patient.
It had started a visit like any other. Emma had covertly checked out the
visitor’s log on the nurse’s desk to see who had visited since the last time
she had been. As Sheriff, she got away with not signing the log. So did
Regina’s emergency contact, which was unfortunately Gold, so she never knew
when or if he was coming.
Henry Gold visited sometimes, every week or so. Alex came with her many
weekends, but never alone. Flipping back through the log, Emma saw that Belle
had made a habit of stopping by every six or so months. Unsurprising,
considering what a kind soul the Mayor had. Of course she would make a point of
visiting her husband’s comatose child.
After her semi-stalker-ish session with the logs, Emma entered the room.
Usually she sat down right away and relaxed in Regina’s company. But today…
today, somebody had left something behind from their own visit.
The last visit other than her own had been Henry, two days ago. But she had
been in yesterday, and the book laying on Regina’s bed now hadn’t been there
then. So somebody had snuck in covertly and left their book behind.
Strange. Very strange.
She picked it up and flipped the cover over so she could read its title. Then
froze. “This is Alex’s book,” she whispered to herself. It was unforgettable,
that cover. ‘ONCE UPON A TIME’ had been printed on it in medieval font and its
leather bound cover felt as rough to the touch as it had done that day Emma had
fished it out of his briefcase.
There was a bookmark in it. Emma flicked through the pages until she reached
where Alex had last been reading. Her eyes skipped to the title of the story at
the top of the page. “The Tale of the Princess and the Pirate Captain,” she
read dubiously, and rolled her eyes. “What a pile of crap.”
She chucked the book back on the bed and then, in a rare moment of connection,
took Regina’s hand in hers and clasped it tightly. “Alright sweet cheeks,” she
grinned at the sleeper, “I’m going to tell you a proper story, not any of that
fairytale bullshit.”
“Once upon a fifth beer,” Emma began resolutely, trying to keep herself from
laughing as she told her own version of a fairytale. “There was a nasty-as-fuck
pirate. Let’s call her Emma. Now Emma was a charmer, good-looking too. And not
too bad with the ladies, if you know what I mean Sleeping Beauty.” She winked
at Regina. “So Emma’s on her way to getting good and smashed when this little
lady comes up next to her, looking super mysterious in one of those hooded-
things…” She snapped her fingers. “A cloak!”
“Now Emma couldn’t see under that cloak, but she offered to buy her a drink
anyway because Emma is a real charmer, remember?” Slowly, and not even
realising what she was doing, the Sheriff started to rub circles over the back
of Regina’s hand. “And when the strange woman accepted Emma’s offer, the pirate
realised she wasn’t dealing with any old broad. No, the stranger was a freaking
lady. Let’s call her… Regina.”
And then Emma gasped. Because ever so slightly, almost imperceptibly… Regina’s
hand had tightened around hers.
There was a brief second, where it was still just them. Just a coma patient and
the local Sheriff, come to visit. Then Emma dropped Regina’s hand like a hot
rock and jumped out of her chair.
“Nurse!” She yelled into the empty corridor. “NURSE!”
 
Fingers snapped in front of her face. Once. Twice. “Emma!”
“What?” The woman asked startled, coming out of her daze.
Alex sighed. “You haven’t been listening to a word I’ve said, have you?”
Emma shook her head in apology and put her head in her hands. “I’m sorry Alex,”
she mumbled. “I just… can’t think about anything other than what happened at
the hospital today.”
Her friend shrugged. “It’s understandable. I think everybody would be a bit
freaked out if a coma patient squeezed their hand.” He smiled at her and pushed
her mostly-whole burger towards her. “Relax and eat. You know Dr Whale said it
was just a freak spike in brain activity. It happens sometimes and it’s nothing
to do with you.”
“I know,” Emma replied in frustration, twisting a fry around in her fingers.
“But…”
There was a silence as Emma chewed on the deep fried potato. It tasted a little
like how she imagined cardboard to taste like. She put her head back in her
hands, fighting the headache that was threatening to seize all logic and
serenity from her mind –
“Your phone’s ringing.”
Emma glared at Alex as she lifted her head back up and fished around in her
pocket. “I realise,” she emphasised. In all truthfulness, she hadn’t realised,
but he didn’t need to know that.
“Sheriff Swan,” she answered tiredly. Please, God. Anything but a cat up a
tree.
“Hello Sheriff,” said a voice which she had been speaking to only earlier that
day. “It’s Dr Whale here. We have a missing patient.”
Emma sat up straight in her chair, suddenly awake as though she had been
electrified. “Who?” She demanded, although perhaps deep inside she already knew
the answer.
“Regina Gold,” Dr Whale answered, and then hesitated. “The patient who squeezed
your hand earlier.”
Emma closed her eyes in terror. Missing. “I’ll be right there.” She ended the
call and looked into Alex’s concerned eyes. “It’s Regina,” she said quietly,
already breathing a little harder with adrenaline. “She’s gone.”
 
The Sheriff pulled up at the hospital with a screech of tires, hurrying up the
main stairs with Alex jogging along right behind her. “Is Dr Whale around?” She
asked the nurse on duty, slightly breathless from the run.
“In the security room,” the nurse stood up abruptly. “I’ll take you.”
She led them to a room just off the main hall, where two security guards, a
cleaner, a nurse and Dr Whale were all congregated with similar panicked
expressions. “Sheriff,” somebody exclaimed. “Thank God!”
“Have you got any tapes of the missing person?” Emma slid into work mode,
trying her best not to think of the patient she had grown immeasurably fond of.
“We’ve established she left under her own will,” Whale nodded. “Play back the
tape, Leroy?”
The guard sitting before the monitor pressed a button and suddenly Emma was
watching Regina move about, conscious for the first time since Emma had known
her. The lithe little brunette made her way to the exit and, with some effort,
propped a door open to escape out of.
“Where does that door go?” Emma demanded.
She looked around at every blank face in the room before one of the security
guards finally answered her. “I don’t know why it’s there, Sheriff, but most of
the lads pop out that door for a smoke.”
Emma resisted the urge to groan in frustration. “But where does it go, Stan?”
She demanded of the guard.
Stan the security guard frowned. “The Docks, I think, Sheriff. If you follow
the path long enough.”
 
Her feet beat the path in a steady rhythm as she ran through the sparse
woodland, breaking only once or twice to jump over stray logs. Behind her, she
could hear Alex breathing heavily as he ran after her, but she couldn’t stop or
slow down to let him catch up.
Her lungs were protesting and her legs were starting to burn, but Emma would
not let up the fast pace she had set herself until she broke through the edge
of the wood and sighted the sea lapping against the docks.
Suddenly the dirt path beneath her feet gave way to solid wood and she was
pounding over solid wooden slats, past fishermen and afternoon strollers. Her
head was turning wildly as she searched for Regina, her eyes roaming over ships
and piers and people.
Then she caught sight of something that made her heart skip a beat.
Regina’s hospital tag. It had been around her wrist for all the time that Emma
had been visiting her. She’d never taken the time to read all the fine hospital
print and now as she picked it up, the only part of the bracelet that was not
obscured by sand was the bold lettering of ‘Regina Gold’ in all caps.
Alex came up behind her, panting loudly. Emma offered him the tag without words
and he took it. “She’s been here,” he surmised quietly for her. “So where the
hell is she now?”
The Sheriff took a moment to stop and think. “What spooked her so much that she
ran straight out of the hospital, and why would she head for the docks?”
Alex bit his lip. “Well… what were you doing before she squeezed your hand?”
Emma frowned at him. “Nothing special,” she tried to remember. “Oh! You left
that dumb book of yours behind on her bed, so I made up an equally stupid story
of my mine to tell her.” She had barely finished her inadequate description of
her visit when Alex shocked her by grabbing her arm.
“The story,” he said, more aggressively than she had ever seen him before.
“What was it about?”
“Er…” Emma fished for words. “I don’t know… a Princess, a pirate…” She shrugged
in desperation. “It was just a dumbfairytale, Alex!”
But he was gone, running down the dock. “Alex!” She yelled after him as loudly
as she could. “Alex!” Nearly screaming in exasperation and feeling the pressure
of a missing person, she took off after him.
Where the hellwas he going? They were down to nearly the last pier when he took
an abrupt right turn, still running at full speed. Emma had a stitch and her
entire body was burning, but she kept going out of sheer determination. She had
run out of breath to keep yelling after her friend, but still had enough brain
power to wonder why the hell Alex was climbing the gangplank up to hership.
The Bloody Blade creaked a little below her as she too climbed the gangplank
two steps at a time and jumped onto deck with a bang. And there, lying on the
floor with Alex crouching over her, was the missing patient they had been
searching for.
Regina was flat on her back and unconscious again. Both her hair and her
hospital gown were billowing out around her and Emma dropped to her knees
beside the patient, pressing two fingers to the woman’s neck. A pulse beat
there, but it was thready and weak, filling Emma with panic.
“She’s not breathing,” Alex informed, sounding as frightened as she felt.
“Emma! Do something.”
“Not breathing,” Emma whispered to herself, frantically trying to remember the
first aid course she was forced by the Mayor to take every year. “Right.” She
tried to position the patient’s body the best she could, then pinched her
nostrils closed. “Then…” Emma trailed off.
She leaned down awkwardly and placed her lips around Regina’s and breathed out.
Her lips were warm. Really warm. And that heat spread over her face and over
her body, coating itself over her fingers and her toes. It left her body,
surrounding the air around her. The body beneath her was breathing and
everything suddenly made more sense than it had done in years.
“Emma,” a hoarse voice croaked as their lips separated. “Emma.”
Captain Swan looked down at her true love and let out a sound that could have
been a sob or a laugh. “Princess Regina,” she breathed out, capturing her lips
once more.
Hands pushed weakly at her shoulders and Emma broke their kiss to sit on her
heels and look down at the other woman. “That’s Queen to you,” Regina protested
weakly.
Emma laughed. “My Queen,” she corrected herself, caressing her cheek.
“MOM!” A voice yelled from the other side of the deck and a body barrelled its
way between the two of them, gathering Regina up in a fierce hug.
“What the hell,” Regina croaked and Emma tugged their son away from his frailer
mother. “Who’s this?”
“It’s Henry, mom,” the boy who had grown into a man told Regina. “Your son.”
“Oh Gods, Emma!” The Queen gasped. “What did you feed him?”
All the culpable pirate could do was smile, laugh and gather her family up in
the fiercest hug she could manage. Because although they had to face a curse,
Rumplestiltskin, being in a new land… Emma had her true love and her son back.
And she’d never be happier than she was in this moment.
End Notes
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