Welcome readers, old and new! I promise not to let this story hang again. I'm finally graduated and done with undergrad so now I have all the time in the world. I present to you, chapter one of A Northern Wind, now with 100% more spell-check.
"Henry," Princess Emma, or rather, Emma Swan as she went by since leaving the kingdom, shook her three-year-old son awake. "Henry, baby, come on. It's time to wake up now." The young boy moaned, but sat up nonetheless, rubbings chubby fists across his eyes.
It wasn't quite morning - the sky still a milky twilight with just a hint of pink - but the wind blowing through the small window in the even small room beckoned to Emma. The breeze drifted in with force, probably bringing with it a storm. But for now, it tousled her long blonde hair, taunting her to hit the road.
"Mommy," Henry wined, reaching his small arms up to his mother. Emma paused in her mad dash to make sure all her and Henry's belongings had been thrown into their lone bag and picked her boy up. He immediately buried his face into her neck and sighed, "Don't wanna go."
Emma rubbed her back soothingly and winced. "I know, baby. But I promise, the next town we go to will be just as fantastic as this one." she set the boy down so that he was standing on their shared twin bed and smiled weakly. "What does mommy always say? Where are we going?"
The boy perked up a bit as Emma fastened his red riding cloak around his neck, "Wherever the wind goes!"
"That's right, kid." Emma grinned and kissed his forehead.
Taking Henry's hand in one of her own and the duffel bag in the other, Emma extinguished the lantern before quietly making her way down the stairs of the tavern's upper room. Such was the custom whenever they arrived in a new town. She would walk into a public place - a tavern, a market, the town square - and ask around about a place to stay. After a week or so, when the landlord would come to demand the rent, she would smile sweetly and make up the excuse that she was having trouble finding work. Sometimes she would even pull the Henry card; surely they wouldn't throw an innocent child to the gutters? Then, after that storm blew over, her and Henry would leave without a trace in the middle of the night.
"Come on Henry, hop up," Emma whispered, hoisting him up onto one of the few things she had stolen from her parents. The beautiful white steed, Maximillian, had been her childhood horse. She had trained him alongside her father and spent countless hours with the large animal. So, when the time to make her getaway came, it only seemed logical to take the beloved beast along for the ride. Plus, he came in handy when the need for a speedy escape arose.
Like now.
"Hey!" The bartender shouted sharply, stepping out onto the front porch of the old pub.
"Shit," Emma cursed under her breath and swung herself up onto the horse's back. Grabbing the reins and locking her arms around Henry, she kicked it into high gear.
"Get back here!" The portly man cried, untying his white apron from around his back and beginning to run down the steps. "Thief!"
Emma laughed in spite of herself. You're not wrong, bud.
With the wind in her face and Henry's small, warm body against her front, Emma gave her steed an extra kick, vaguely wondering where the breeze would take them next.
Captain Hook stood at the helm of the Jolly Roger and breathed deep as a gust off the sea blew across his face. It was days like this he wished he was on the waves instead of stuck in port. His crew always seemed to run out of food just as the stars aligned for the perfect sailing conditions. So, instead of terrorising the seven seas like a good pirate, he stood at the helm and monitored his crew as they docked the large ship, like a good captain.
It was one thing Liam had taught him by example when he had still been alive; being a good captain meant always keeping the needs of your crew in check. A happy crew meant a well-run ship. And even now, as the fearsome Captain Hook and not as Killian Jones, he couldn't help but hold the principle dear.
"Do you smell that, Mister Smee?" Hook asked his first mate, taking another deep breath.
"Well, yes, Captain, but the men have promised to bathe while we're in port," Smee said, nervously wringing his hands.
Hook grimaced, "No, you fool. The ocean! She's calling me name!" He strode to the edge of the ship and gazed out over the lapping waves, the sea reflecting in his blue eyes, bright with excitement.
"Feel the wind, Mister Smee. She wants - nay, she needs me!"
"'M sorry, Captain. Maybe you could call the men in early and be back out by tonight?"
"Yes, but what kind of captain would I be if I did that?"
"Why, a great captain, Captain! You're the best captain this crew has seen! Save for your brother, 'course, may he rest in peace," Smee quickly amended.
Hook laughed, a low chuckle reverberating in his chest. "Arse-kissing does not suit you, Mister Smee." He grabbed Smee's fluffy red cap as he passed and laughed again.
The wind changed suddenly and picked up Hook's coat with such ferocity that he was sure if it hadn't been secure around his shoulders, it would have been lost forever. The clouds rolled in over the small town they had pulled in to port and with them, the air turned cold and bitter. Hook shivered involuntarily against the harsh wind that had been so welcoming just minutes ago.
If the sky was anything to go by (and, being a sailor from birth, the sky was everything to go by), a storm was coming in, and fast. Where clear cloudless skies had watched over him all afternoon, now dark and threatening greys advanced angrily.
Captain Hook smirked, a smug tint running across his features. The sea was furious for his wasting of a perfect wind. And now, his winds were about to change.
"Where are we, Momma?" Henry asked, blinking sleepily.
"We're stopping for the night. Mommy's tired," Emma sighed. She glanced around for a place, any place, to rest their heads but found nothing. What kind of port town didn't have a tavern open all night?
"Look Mommy, a boat!" Henry cried happily. It wasn't exactly the biggest ship in the harbour - the boats owned by the Royal Navy at least doubled it in size - but it certainly wasn't the smallest either. Its dark wooden hull and masts towered over them as Henry's gaze remained transfixed.
"That's a ship," Emma corrected him absentmindedly. Her eyes drifted over to the Royal Navy's ship. The flag of her parent's kingdom snapped in the harsh wind and she pulled up the hook of her riding cloak before doing the same for Henry. Surely they would recognise her, given the chance, but she didn't want to take the risk of them finding her son as well.
"Can we go on the ship, Mother?" Her son's wide hazel eyes, a mirror image of his father's, stared up at her. Emma slid off the house and pulled Henry onto her hip. They creeped quietly down the cobblestone path along the harbour, only the horse's hooves giving their location away.
"Not tonight," Emma whispered.
"Hey you! Where do you think you're going?" A voice shouted behind them. Emma turned sharply. Only twenty or so feet behind them stood a guard in a royal blue uniform. Twice in one night? She groaned internally.
Gripping Henry securely to her front, Emma took off running. The guard pounded behind them with his sabre drawn, still shouting at them to stop. Frightened by all the sudden movement, the horse took off in a completely other direction.
This day just keeps getting better, Emma thought sourly as she turned corner after corner, desperately trying to lose the guard. Between Henry's added weight and the steady pace she was trying to keep, Emma was dangerously running out of breath. Quickly ducking behind a shaded alley, she gulped down air.
"Momma, I'm scared," Henry whined. She shushed him harshly and peered around the building. The guard seemed to have gotten lost, or at least given up. Maybe he decided they just weren't worth his time.
The wind picked up again, banging the ropes and chains against the masts of the Jolly.
Emma glanced up at the sounds, "Looks like we're going on the ship after all, kid."
The storm had the entire crew of the Jolly Roger holed up for the night. Not that they were complaining much - nights on the Jolly meant lots of music and even more drinking. All in all, a good time was had by the entire crew. All except their Captain.
Instead of celebrating with his men, Hook founding himself wandering the brig, drinking rum and whistling a soft tune. Somewhere just under his feet, a light tapping like footsteps on the wood sounded. He paused to listen for the sound again. It was there once more, followed by muffled shuffling of voices.
"What in the gods name?" He mumbled and threw open the hatch that lead to the very bottom carriage of the ship.
Instantly, he was met with the prettiest green eyes and blonde hair combination he had seen in all the realms. A similar set of hazel eyes gazed up at him as well.
Hook smirked mischievously and advanced towards the pair who stood frozen in the dark hull, too afraid to move. This was it. This was the end. They had been caught, by a pirate no less. "Well hello, hello. Looks like we have ourselves a couple of stowaways."