"Now now, love, let's not cause a ruckus…"
"That's Captain to you pirate," she spat, struggling against the heavy metal shackles that bound her hands and feet together.
"Hmm," he muttered, beginning to stalk around her like an animal rounding its prey. "How liberal of the king, a woman as captain? How sweet."
Emma twisted her body roughly, the wooden back of the chair dug into her spine as she surveyed her prison. A cabin. She presumed it was his. Filled with no doubt plundered wares. Damn pirate.
"I am as fine a captain as any man, I assure you." She glanced to his waist and saw the sword that was sheathed within the leather scabbard, "And I can match any man with a sword."
"Is that so? He leaned in until she could feel the breath on his face, "Then why, love, were you captured so easily?"
She scowled. The Jolly Roger had caught The Swan off guard. They had been on a humanitarian mission to deliver grain to an outlying territory whose crops had failed. They had nothing of value on board.
"I guess it was foolish of me to assume a shipment of grain would be below the interest of the infamous Captain Hook."
He smirked.
"I'm interested in anything I can sell love. Goods are goods." Crouching down at her feet, she tried to kick out but the chains held her in place. He tutted. "Would you like to know a secret? The way to be a successful pirate is to not be picky. And as it turns out grain is fetching a fine price in some of the drier realms. You must send my thanks to your king."
"My king? Huh," she cried, "Well as you are going to kill me that's clearly not going to happen." She narrowed her jade green eyes, "Why am I still alive pirate? Do you get some kind of pleasure from taunting me so?"
His expression changed and his brow furrowed, "Since you asked, you - love - are something of an anomaly - a female sailor, a captain no less! And that which is rare is valuable. Plus, I believe in good form and killing a defenceless woman is quite the opposite." He gave her a smile that was something between a sneer and a grin and she pulled back, rolling her head to one side to escape him.
"Ha! Good form? What a heap of shit." She sucked back a mouthful of saliva and spit it squarely in his left eye. He didn't flinch. Instead he used the cuff of his shirt to wipe his eye before looking back at her.
"Feisty aren't we," he mocked as he pulled himself to stand. "You'll soon tire of that."
Frustrated, she turned away from his gaze and instead looked out of the small window at the rear of the cabin. She could see the blue sky and the sunshine. Freedom.
"Gone quiet have we?" She heard him chuckle. "Fine, a man knows when he is not wanted, so I bid you adieu."
And with a swoosh of heavy leather and the creaking of a hinge closing he was gone.
That night, she had trembled when he returned. He stunk of rum and thick leather. Slamming the door, he shrugged off his coat before sinking to the chair at his desk and tugging off his boots. All the time watching her.
"Fear not lass, all you have heard about pirates is not true. Your virtue is safe."
Ignoring him, she pointed her nose in the air and turned her head.
"Still not talking?" He sighed, "Probably for the best. Last thing I need round here is the whining of some woman."
Seething she clenched her jaw and sucked in a breath.
"Fine. I was considering allowing you somewhere more conformable to sleep but as the way things stand I think a night or two strapped to a chair can't do you any harm, could it?"
While he busied himself removing the rest of his clothes, her racing heart had began to still. He wasn't going to touch her - have his way. At least not tonight it seemed. The chill of relief flooded her veins. She let herself glance in his direction. Good lord he was naked as the day he was born. The muscles of her stomach flinched as she watching him climb into the bed - all tight muscles and golden skin. She squeezed her eyes shut as he turned down the lamp.
The first few days were the hardest. The daylight hours she was locked alone in his cabin, going mad to know what was happening - what had happened to her ship? Her crew? She cursed herself ever other minute for allowing those in her charge to be placed in danger.
He'd let her be for the most part. Tossing her a crust and allowing her a mouthful of water every so often.
After four days the shackles were beginning to cause angry red welts to course over her skin. She was tired and weak. She could barely lift her head and she knew her skin was pale and sickly.
He'd eyed her that morning, inspecting her wounds before leaving and then returning with a bowl of water and a rag. Releasing the restraints he had silently bathed the skin with cool water - Emma flinched at the sensation of the relief and pain it caused. Finally he had torn a shirt into strips and bound the wounds before carrying her over to the bed and replacing one of the ankle restraints and attaching it to a metal ring at the footboard. The mattress felt so soft after days bound to the hard chair that she almost cried with relief, soon letting sleep claim her.
When she had awoken sometime later, there was a flagon of weak ale, a piece of cheese and a cup of broth placed beside her on a small metal tray. Hungrily, she gulped the morsels down, relishing in every mouthful as they entered her stomach and filled her body with a warm glow.
Sated, she fell back against the pillow, looking out the window as day turned to night and wondering what would happen tomorrow.
It turned out nothing happened the next day. Or the one after that. Every now and again a crewman would bring her a tray of food or clear her chamber pot but he was noticeable in his absence. She hadn't seen him for almost a week when he entered the cabin with a flourish, a flask of rum balanced between his fingertips.
"I have good news, our dear Captain."
"Yes?" she asked, trying to muster up as much of a voice of disinterest as she could.
"Yes," he echoed, drawing the small chair she had sat on up to the bed and straddling it so he was facing her, "Your king has replied to my entreaties. It turns out I was correct - you are valuable. The price for your pretty little head is 10,000 gold pieces and the release of two of my men currently languishing in the dungeon of your castle."
"Hm," she replied, secretly overjoyed but not wanting to give him the satisfaction.
"Not happy love? I get it. I knew you'd love life on the Jolly. Well, just say the word and I'll happily cancel the deal-"
"Don't your dare," she warned, eyes wide with fury as she turned to him, straining for breath.
"Ah, so there is life in her yet. Drink?" he asked, raising the flask.
Her chest rose and fell rapidly. His blue, blue eyes locked with her own. They were surprisingly soft against the harshness of his dark skin and scarred face. For a second, she felt like she could see behind the infamous Captain Hook, see into his soul. Just for a second.
"Fine," she muttered, rolling her eyes and swinging her legs over the bed and accepting the small metal cup he offered. Silently he poured her a measure.
"To freedom," he offered, raising the flask, "At the right price."
"To freedom," she whispered, knocking back the liquid, it catching in her throat slightly. It tasted good and spread badly needed warmth over her. Quickly she held out the glass and obediently he poured another.
And so the evening went until the bottle was spent and he left for the night.
"Goodnight Captain," he said. No hint of teasing in his voice.
The journey back to The Enchanted Forest was almost three weeks. And captain Hook was a regular visitor after that night. He begun to bring her her evening meal and he would sit as she ate. At first, these interludes were silent. He merely watched her.
Sick of him and feeling hot and unsteady under his gaze, she had finally attempted to engage him in conversation. She talked of navigation, astronomy, languages, far off lands… Finally he had replied: debating with her the different methods of measuring a league, the latest technology in rigging, the mysterious and dangerous stories of the outer lands that few had ever returned from.
Despite herself, she was warming to him. Well, at least he was proving he was a human being. He had even explained how he had lost his hand - a drunken duel with a hotheaded young lieutenant whose fiancee he had 'deflowered' (or so he had put it). She found herself smiling at his outrageous tales in spite of herself. Most of the them seemed too amazing to be true - escaping an evil demon with a magic flying sail for example - but the conviction with which he spoke, and the colour he brought to his stories, caused her to pause and consider the grain of truth they held.
When he left, she found herself feeling empty. Alone. As if she missed his company. She began to look forward to his visits, spending each day planning her discourse and digesting the last nights conversation.
In the end a storm extend the journey to three weeks, six days.
The Jolly had arranged to meet a supply ship at the far edge of the kingdom, where the exchange would be made and Hook could make a fast getaway with his loot.
The evening before, he arrived as usual with her meal, and in addition a bottle of something was perched on the tray. Placing it down on the bed, he showed her the bottle. "I thought a celebration was in order, since we are both about to get what we have been dreaming of - have you heard of glacier wine?"
She shook her heard and picked up a chunk of bread, eagerly dipping it in the thick creamy broth on the tray.
Smiling he pulled the cork out with his teeth, pulling two horn goblets from his desk and filling them both with a small measure. "It is made from the Icicar plant which only grows on the farthest edge of the outer kingdoms and in addition, is only in bloom for one week per year. Each bottle requires the fruit of 100 plants. Which, in case you were wondering, makes it the rarest wine in all the realms."
She narrowed her eyes at him, sniffing the glass. It smelled sweet - almost like roses - but it had an extra aroma. One she couldn't quite place.
"And you're sharing this bottle with me?" she asked, almost incredulously.
"I've been saving it for a special occasion. I'd say this is as good as any."
Raising a brow he took a sip of his wine and motioned for her to do the same.
Tentatively, she did so.
At first the wine was cold and almost numbed her lips. As it rolled across her tongue a bloom of flavour was released. It tasted of fruit and air and cold and freedom. Her eyes sunk closed as she swallowed and a warmth pooled in her belly. It truly was the best wine she had ever tasted.
"Good?" he asked.
She nodded and he refilled her glass.
They talked freely that evening - more than they ever had - Emma not feeling the need to hide herself, knowing how her release was so close. She had explained how she came to be a sailor - losing her parents at a young age in a ship wreck, being taken under the wing of one of the king's admirals who had rescued her, growing up on ship. How she had cut her hair and disguised herself as a boy to enlist (he'd found that rather amusing, telling her she had quite the boyish figure).
Despite herself she was relaxed. Her belly was full, the wine was working on her quite nicely and she was somehow enjoying his company.
She mentally kicked herself. Clearly this was all an illusion. And even if it wasn't tomorrow she would go back to being a captain in King David's navy, sworn to vanquish all pirates. She knew if they ever met again, they could never be on such friendly terms.
The sky was black when the bottle was empty. Her body felt happily numb and she lay back loosely against the pillows. Her cheeks flush from the alcohol and her mind quiet. He was slumped over the desk. He'd shed his coat and vest hours earlier. His hair was mussed up and his eyes hooded. She could see he was falling asleep.
"Come," she said drowsily, tapping the sliver of bed beside her, "Sleep."
He lifted his head and gave her a weary smile "No, I should go…"
"You'd pass out before you made it half way across the ship. Come on. And remember, I can kill you with my bare hands. If I need to."
Rising, with a stupid grin on his face, he held up his hands, "You are safe with me love." Then he climbed into the bed, sinking into the mattress with a weary sigh.
"Goodnight Captain," he muttered as he began to drift off.
"Goodnight Captain," she replied as she watched his eyes slip close and began to half wonder how she had never noticed how handsome he was before.
The shackles were gone the next morning and so was he.
The first mate had made the exchange ('the captain is currently indisposed' he had told her) and soon she was stepping on board The Golden Lark and being welcomed by the fleet admiral as the first officer ever to escape from the evil Captain Hook.
The homecoming was grand. A ball was held. Honors bestowed. She was bewildered to find her crew were there to greet her. She was told they had been set adrift in lifeboats before the pirates had burned The Swan. Emma mourned her ship but thanked the gods that her men were spared.
A promotion was afforded her. She was now Rear Admiral Swan. Her uniform was adorned with heavy brocade insignia and she was to be based in the King's castle. Her new role was planning the movements of the fleet. Training new officers. Missing the sea more and more each day.
And something else was creeping up on her too.
An ache. Gentle at first but growing each day, especially on an evening; the time when he would visit. An emptiness almost.
She missed him. She hated herself for it, but it was true. She missed his stories and his wit and his way of teasing her that she really didn't mind. And she missed those beautiful blue eyes that seemed so out of place on his face.
Although she tried to forget him, it was impossible, So silently, she brooded.
And mourned.
"Wake up love, come on, wake up…"
Was it a dream? The voice. It was him. But it couldn't be…
Prying her eyes open she started, It was him. Those eyes were unmistakable. She almost cried out but he clapped a hand over her mouth before she could.
Her heard was pounding. He was leaning over her, closer than he had ever been, the heat of his body was intoxicating.
"Now, if I move my hand can I have your assurance you aren't going to scream?"
She nodded until her pulled his palm from her lips - their pink skin sticking slightly to his as he did.
"I don't scream," she replied, "I'm not some damsel in distress."
He cocked and eyebrow as he settled to sit on her bed, clearly amused. "No, that you are not Admiral."
She blushed but squared her shoulders.
Really, she should scream. Call the guard that was always posted at the door of her quarters. Cry bloody murder and have the pirate arrested. That's what a king's officer should do, she told herself.
Instead she asked, "What are you doing here?"
He smiled sheepishly. He seemed shy almost as he licked his lips and rocked his jaw from side to side.
"Did you miss me?" he asked, avoiding the question.
She frowned, "Miss my jailer? Please."
"Ah, love. I thought we'd got beyond that." And he gave her another damn smirk and her stupid lips betrayed her by replying with a smile.
"To answer your question, I realised I had forgotten to do something before you left."
"You did?" she asked.
"Yes," he replied, "This."
Quickly his hand was in her hair and pulling her mouth to his. She resisted at first, until his warm lips met hers and damn they were soft and knowing as they kneaded against her mouth, prying it open with his tongue before plunging it inside and and scraping it against hers. She almost forgot to breath and began to feel lightheaded. He pulled away just into time as the cloak of darkness and stars that threatened a faint closed over her.
She tried to say something but her mouth didn't seem to be able to function.
"Swan. I think you are bloody brilliant. I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since you left. I've risked my freedom to break into this bloody city and find you - and can I say you are a hard woman to track down - because I have a proposition for you."
"You do?" she asked, surprised but curious and feeling all the inappropriateness of a liaison with a wanted man in her quarters.
"Come. Join me. Be my partner. I've never met another with equal knowledge of the seas to mine. Together we can rule them."
A part of her wanted to say yes. The sea - it was calling her. She missed it's salty tang, the way its breezes danced through her hair and bruised her skin. She missed the freedom of being surrounded by nothing but miles of blue ocean.
"I- I can't. Become a pirate? No-"
"You don't understand love. I've made enough money to last ten lifetimes. Now - I want to explore. I want to visit every kingdom. See what lies beyond the farthest star. And I want to do it with you. I've already disbanded all but my most loyal crew who are all of the same mind. What do you say?"
Oh, to see the farthest lands. To have the freedom of the seas to do and see whatever she pleased…
In an instant her mind was made up.
"Yes!" she cried, her eyes sparkling and a grin lighting up her face.
His eyes widened. He looked innocent almost. And happy. She wrapped her arms around his neck and at once he wasn't Captain Hook anymore but just a kindred soul in whom she saw a reflection of herself.
"Just tell me something first. What is your real name?"
He smiled.
"Killian. Killian Jones, at your service."
"Well Killian, it's going to be dark for at least a few more hours. How about you come in here and keep me warm until we have to leave."
He was already tugging of his shirt as he replied, "Yes my love."
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