"Emma, dear, we have something to tell you." Princess Emma tilted her head to one side, waiting for her mother to go on. Snow looked nervous, which Emma had learned was never a good thing.
"Seeing as it's your 18th birthday in a few days..." Snow paused, fiddling nervously with a thread on her lavender gown. "And also seeing as how, for two years, you have favored no suitor, we have taken the liberty of choosing one for you ourselves." Emma froze, anger bubbling up in her, but she restrained it under a mask of calm. She would let it out later, when her maids had left her for the night, when she could scream into her pillow without being heard.
"Who is it that has gained your favor, Mother?" Emma asked calmly, the only sign of her anger being the way she fidgeted ever so slightly, hands clenching and un-clenching once.
"His name is Prince Neal, the son of the Dark One," King David, her father, replied this time. At that, shock replaced her calm exterior for a moment, before being rapidly overpowered by anger.
"Neal?" she hissed, striving desperately to remain calm but failing. "You engaged me to Neal? After everything that he's done?" Snow backed up a step, obviously startled by Emma's anger. Thanks to her magic that spiraled out of control whenever her emotions got the best of her, she had long learned how to maintain a calm surface. She had never gotten truly angry since her 14th birthday, and now, her daughter's anger, even contained, was a fearsome sight. Especially, Snow mused, when it was coupled with the ball of golden flame that flickered, seemingly unconsciously, on the palm of Emma's hand.
"Ever wondered who tried to murder me on my 16th birthday? It was Neal!" She was almost screaming now, her magic making her entire being start to glow. "He betrayed me, he tried to murder me, and you turn around and engage me to him?" David stepped back this time, probably because of the gold fire that was growing stronger and stronger, making Emma's body emit a faint glow.
"Emma, you have to understand, we need this alli-" Snow tried, but Emma silenced her with a flick of the hand that did not have fire.
"No. You will not make excuses. This is unforgivable. Not to mention extremely unsafe," Emma said, anger starting to fade, being replaced with a cool intensity that scared her parents far more than any fury could ever have. The fire in her hands turned cooler, a deeper shade of gold, but no less strong; if anything, it was more powerful.
"He could try to murder me in my bed like he did two years ago, and succeed this time, Mother, Father," Emma said. "Or should I even call you that anymore? After all, shouldn't your parents try to protect you, not make you marry a man who betrayed you because his daddy told him to?" Snow was rapidly becoming as pale as her name, and opened her mouth in a futile attempt to calm Emma once more, but her daughter turned on her heel, silvery silk dress swishing, and stormed out of the room.
Emma was furious.
She had never felt more rage in her entire life, and she could feel the control she had on her magic begin to slip away, which was something that had never happened since she was 14. She closed her eyes, leaning against a marble column and pressing a hand to her head, willing herself to stop thinking. It worked, like it always had before, the warm energy coursing through her body beginning to fade. For a moment, she almost missed it, but she reminded herself that magic always comes with a price.
As the anger subsided, it left only the intense feeling of wanting, no, needing to get away. To run, as far and as fast as she could, away from this life, with its responsibilities, constant annoyances, everything. She knew, even as she thought it, that it was childish, but she had been seen as an adult for so long- ever since she was 14, really- that sometimes her lost childhood begged to come back to her.
But surely her parents had a reason for doing what they had done?
Emma snorted. They might be her birth parents, but she had spent the first 14 years of her life without them. To Emma, parents weren't people that gave birth to you, cast you out into the streets, and then happened upon you 14 years later, expected you to be happy you had finally found them, and took you to the palace to begin a life of drudgery- because that was what it was. In short, she didn't trust them. Even though, as an 'orphan' living in the streets, she had had to fight for every day's food, she had been free, free in a way that she had never been since being forced to come to the palace.
Now, another measure of her freedom- the last one, really- was being taken away; her freedom to choose whom she wanted to marry.
For one wild moment, she was entirely certain exactly what she was going to do. She was going to do what she did best: run.
Then sense set in. She couldn't just decide on the spur of the moment what she was going to do; she needed a plan. In the meantime, though, she needed to act fine- well, not fine, but tolerant- of her engagement, in order to allay the suspicion that she might run away from her responsibilities. She started walking back to her room, a small smile on her face.
She may be trapped, but she could still escape.
Two weeks later, Emma was finally ready.
Slipping out of bed, she quickly put on a tunic and leggings, then, grabbing her cloak and the sack of provisions she had managed to pilfer from the kitchens, she stepped out on the balcony. Without a second thought she grasped onto the vines that covered the castle walls and began her descent.
Carefully, keeping her form small and her step light, Princess Emma glanced furtively around before carefully beginning her route to the castle gate, grateful for the years of practice she had sneaking around; it was invaluable in helping her to successfully evade the guards. Finally, however, she slipped past the last guard, past the palace walls at last.
Taking a deep breath, the princess breathed in the cool, night air. It was her first time in four years being outside the castle walls; her parents were terrified she was going to leave them; rightly so, Emma thought with a snort. It was the first time in four years she was free.
Taking another deep breath of the invigorating night breeze, Princess Emma heaved her sack onto her shoulder and began the descent down the hill her former palace was situated on. Every few steps, she readjusted her hood. Even though only few of the citizens had ever seen her, thus earning her the title of the 'Ice Princess', those that had, had spun tales of her 'dazzling' (so they said; Emma thought they were over-exaggerating) beauty and cool, almost cold exterior. Still, she didn't want to take the risk of being recognized and sent back to the palace. She needed her escape to go well.
As she came within seeing distance of the port town next to the castle, she paused, kneeling down and plastering dirt firmly onto her face. She did it carefully, knowing from years of experience exactly how to make her seem stronger or weaker, or, like she was doing now, to disguise her appearance.
After her face was covered, she proceeded to do the same with her neck, arms, hands, and any other exposed skin, before finally readjusting her cloak a final time and entering the town.
It was surprisingly noisy for the cozy little port town it was supposed to be; the tavern seemed especially so, but the princess ignored the unusual occurrence, instead making her way to the docks. She knew her only chance of getting away would be to stowaway on one of the ships, but she knew she would have to do it carefully. Over half of the ships were her father's; they would turn her in the moment they caught sight of her. The rest, though, were a mixture of the Dark One's ships, which she would rather die than get on, and several other kingdom's merchant ships, all of which were allies of her father's kingdom, and therefore would turn her in instantly. Just as she was about to give up and settle down for the night in order to wait for a ship whose crest she did not know, she spotted a new one out of the corner of her eyes; a strange crest with a red skull and two bones that formed an X. She stared at it for almost a solid minute before remembering what it meant; it was the skull and crossbones. Pirates.
All of a sudden, the unusually rowdy tavern made sense. She was no fool; she had heard many tales about pirates and their... ahem, conquests. Truth be told, she had heard more tales than she would like to admit about them; they fascinated her in a strange way. Even though they were evil, stealing, plunderering and murdering villains that took whores, they were... free. And she wanted, no, needed, freedom more than anything in her life. For a moment, she was almost tempted to stowaway on a pirate ship, before rolling her eyes at herself. If she didn't get herself killed, she would most definitely get herself raped, probably raped and murdered, Emma thought dryly. Unless of course she told them she was a princess. Then they would try and ransom her.
Personally, she would almost rather be raped than go back to the palace. At least on the ship she had a fighting chance; growing up on the streets had acquainted her with the need to survive, as well as basic hand-to-hand combat. And her father and mother had both done their best to teach her their respective skills of swordsmanship and archery. Truth be told, she wasn't too good of a swordsman (Well, her father said she was, she always thought he was over-exaggerating like everyone else did) and couldn't hit a target to save her life, but add that to her magic, and well... She had at least a chance; slim but there.
But it was still a stupid idea.
Emma stood up before she could stop herself. She had never been known for her smart decisions, and right now she was about to prove that. She cautiously started towards the ship, glancing around every few steps. Once onboard the ship, she paused once more, but before she could get more than a few steps, she heard a voice right next to her ear; so close that she almost jumped out her skin.
"And where might you be going, darling?" the voice was a deep timbre and thickly accented, the kind of voice that would make most girls weak at the knees. But Princess Emma could hear the underlying darkness and instantly knew this was someone to be reckoned with. She turned around slowly to see a pair of brilliant blue eyes watching her intently, a dark smirk barely visible in the almost complete darkness.
Emma stared at him calmly, knowing her only chance would be to keep her cool. She had absolutely no sexual experience- she hadn't even kissed anyone- so seducing this man was absolutely out of question.
She felt rather than saw him move closer, so close she could almost feel the warmth emanating from him. He leaned his face inwards just a little bit, so close that their lips were practically touching. Her breathing quickened slightly, and she knew the man was doing it on purpose.
"I'll ask again, where do you think you're going?" his voice dipped even lower, an easily readable threatening undertone coloring it. Taking a deep breath, Princess Emma tilted her head upwards just a bit so she could lock eyes with the man, knowing the danger of showing her face but knowing also the danger of backing down.
"Your methods may work on other girls, but they don't work on me," the princess said softly, concentrating on calming down, calming down. She was finding it harder and harder to keep her magic under control with him in close proximity, not sure if it was fear that was doing it or... something else. Exactly what the something else was, she had no idea.
She was rewarded by the strange man getting even closer, closer than she thought was humanly possible, so close they were chest to chest. Her heart began to start racing a little erratically, but this time she knew exactly what it was- fear. He was easily close enough to stab her, if he wanted to. She needed to get away, she was afraid of what would happen if she stayed, but she-
She was afraid of what would happen if she tried to get away, too.
"I think you were trying to stowaway on my ship," he said, more of a growl than anything. A brief flash of surprise lit her face; this was the pirate captain? He was extremely attractive, good at threatening people, and seducing young girls; he did seem to fit all the rules.
"And do you know what I do with stowaways?" one hand gripped her tightly all of a sudden, so hard and tight she had to fight to not cry out. Then something cold touched her; looking down she gasped. Instead of a left hand, he had a gleaming silver hook.
Suddenly, she realized just who she was dealing with. Captain Hook, the most infamous pirate on the high seas.
"Captain Hook." Emma said levelly. He tilted his head.
"Ah, I see you've heard of me. All the better." he paused, eyes raking up and down her form. Emma shivered ever so slightly, wishing her cloak covered her more; this man was unnerving to say the least. He practically emanated darkness.
"Now, what is a girl such as you doing out alone at night?"
"Night time when the captain is out is generally the best time to stowaway, Captain," Emma said calmly, just managing to keep up her facade.
He leaned forward again, brushing her hood back ever so slightly.
"I think I should... punish you for daring to try and touch my ship, what do you say, wench?" Emma paled, hoping the dirt that covered her skin hid it.
"Well, that depends on the form of punishment, Captain," Emma said as coyly as she could. Even she, however, could not disguise the slight quaver in her voice, and from the slight smirk, Hook heard it. She knew what the Captain was going to do.
He grabbed her roughly by the shoulder, half dragging her into what she assumed must be his cabin. Without further ado, he started unbuttoning his shirt, and Emma bit her lip, paling further, trying to conceal her trembling. Glancing around furtively, she took inventory of the cabin; it was a bit small, but other than the desk and bed, she couldn't see very much of it. Just looked at the desk made her pale even more, especially when Hook followed her gaze and returned it with a sneer. Right before he took his shirt off, though, he started back towards her and began to slowly run one hand up and down her body, feeling her. She flinched ever so slightly, but the answering steel on her backside conveyed an unspoken threat; move, and I'll gut you.
Right as she was certain Hook was going to hitch up her skirts and take her right then and there- exactly how had she ended up with her back against the wall?- he stopped, a smirk returning to his face.
"Now, now, dear, I may be many things, but I won't take an unwilling woman." he paused, leaning back in, and slowly ran his tongue over her earlobe. Emma resisted the urge to shiver (she was the Ice Princess, for heaven's sake, how could this man affect her so?), nervously trying to readjust her hood. "I'm a very patient man, darling. And sooner or later, you'll be throwing yourself at my feet, begging for the privilege of making me come." this time, the shudder that rose within her was of revulsion.
"I could never want someone like you," Emma snapped. A small spark appeared briefly, right next to Hook's ear, but if he noticed, he said nothing. He simply leaned in closer, winked, and said, "We'll see about that." then he retreated one step, allowing her to get off the wall, and sent her down to the brig.
"Can you cook, wench?" he asked briefly, as he locked her into the cell. Though privately, Emma was relieved he hadn't asked for her name, she had to admit the title was wearing on her.
"No." Hook tilted his head.
"Really? Are you some sort of princess, maybe?" Emma bit the inside of her cheek briefly.
"No. What I am is none of your business," she replied as evenly as she could. Hook leaned into the bars, his blue eyes swirling with the strange almost empty darkness she had recognized from the moment she heard his voice.
"Oh, I rather believe it is, darling," he said.
"Let me rephrase that," the princess said after a brief pause. "What I am is simple: No one."
Hook stared at her for a moment.
"I've heard many a bar whore tell me that. Are you saying you're the same as them?" she caught a faint smirk just as he said it, effectively cooling her anger the moment it started up. He didn't believe her; he was simply waiting for her to get angry and slip up.
"No. I am nobody, a common street wench, Captain. I decided I wished to try and make my fortune elsewhere, and tried to stowaway on this ship."
"I don't believe you," Hook drawled. Emma met his gaze steadily.
"Believe what you will, Captain." she said coolly, then turned to the bed. She heard Hook quietly hiss before apparently deciding her not worth the effort and leaving the brig without another word.
Princess Emma pulled the hood over her face, lay down on the bed, and closed her eyes.
To think, from her palace to this.
Needless to say, she cried herself to sleep that night.
The next day, she slowly drifted into consciousness. Hook was there, smirking at her, his features even more handsome in the light of the day, but it didn't make him any less revolting to Princess Emma. He was a man that would rape her, then probably murder her afterwards, and she was stuck with him until he tired of her and disposed of her- in whichever way he saw fit.
"Wench," he said. "Today you shall prove yourself useful to me. You'll be serving in the kitchens."
"I thought I-" Emma started, annoyed, but Hook cut her off.
"I said," he started in a low and dangerous tone, "That you are to be serving in the kitchens. On board this ship, my word is law. It would do you well to remember that." he stared directly at her, and this time, Emma looked away briefly.
"Did you hear me, wench?" he growled, and the princess could only nod. Standing up, she as casually as she could readjusted her hood before following the pirate captain upwards. Once on deck, she gasped. All around her was only open sea; they must have cast off when she was still sleeping.
"It's beautiful..." Emma murmured.
"Aye." Hook replied, following her gaze. He seemed almost amused, and for a moment, he looked like he was going to say something else, but then he snapped his jaw shut and continued onward.
"Here is where you'll be working for the next two weeks or so." Emma opened her mouth, about to ask about what was going to happen after those two weeks, but once she saw the dark gleam in his eyes, she decided she didn't want to know, and nodded once more.
"What's wrong, darling? Cat got your tongue?" suddenly, there he was again, invading her personal space. She resisted the urge to shove him backwards, knowing it would only make this worse. He leaned closer and closer, and Emma screwed one eye shut, not wanting to see, but also needing to. Thankfully, before Hook could do anything more, they were interrupted by a cough.
"Captain? What is the meaning of this?" a new voice asked. Turning her head, Princess Emma saw a shorter, almost rotund man watching them.
"Ah, Tom. This wench was caught trying to stowaway on the Jolly. She will be joining you here every morning." Without waiting for a reply, Hook spun on his heel and walked out.
Emma turned to Tom, waiting for him to make some innuendo or jeering remark, but instead, all he said was,
"What's your name, lass?" Emma tilted her head, confused. So maybe only Hook made innuendos and inappropriate comments.
"I'm..." 'Emma' wasn't exactly the smartest thing to say, now was it? "Swan." she paused. Though she had long ago come up with the name 'Swan', it was a last name, not a first name. "Jade Swan." she said finally. The courtiers had always told her her eyes were green as jade, (she got the feeling they meant 'hard as jade' too) and it was as good a name as any.
"Jade," Tom said slowly. "I can't see your face, so I can't tell you if the name suits you or not." Emma dipped her head, concealing her face further. She expected Tom to rip it off, but instead he sighed.
"Very well, then. Let's get cooking."
Emma felt positively ill.
Her stomach roiled and heaved at every rock of the ship, and she kept throwing up.
Not that there was anything to throw up, Emma thought dryly. She hadn't eaten anything for almost 24 hours, she suddenly realized as came out on deck just in time to see the sun set. Her eyes widened; she had never seen anything as beautiful as the sunset.
"That's beautiful," she murmured, this time to Tom, who had rapidly become as close of a friend as he could under the circumstances. Tom, like Hook, nodded.
"Indeed it is," he replied, sending her a small smile as if to comfort her. Over the course of the day, Tom had managed to pry out one or two of the details of her capture, and had promptly become sympathetic to her, which confused her, for weren't pirates supposed to be cruel?
"Wench." she tensed instantly at the voice, surprised by how quickly she had come to recognize it as his. She had just been sent back to the brig; it figures that Hook would come just as she was starting to cry.
"Captain," she responded as evenly as she could manage.
"You never told me your name." the princess resisted the urge to shudder; it was at times like this that she most feared him. Feared him because all it would take were three words and he would know exactly who she was. Feared him because, for some strange reason, he made her want to tell him who she was. It was like his eyes compelled her to do whatever he asked.
"Swan." she said shortly.
"Just Swan?"
"That a problem, Captain?"
"I would normally say at this point that a woman as lovely as you can not go just by a surname..." Hook paused.
"But I don't even know if you are lovely." he was goading her again, she knew. Trying to get her to throw off her cloak. He suspected she was someone of nobility... But if he does, why hasn't he uncloaked you yet? Scratch that. He just wanted to see her face so he could flirt with her more openly.
All the better to try and get her on her knees in front of him. Emma wasn't a fool; she knew exactly what went on between a man and a woman. From some of the servants, she had even heard tales of how to pleasure a man. And the tales were not particularly... nice to hear.
"Perhaps I am ugly, and simply do not wish to reveal my ugliness," Emma replied. Hook chuckled, a dark sort of chuckle that unsettled her.
"Oh, I know you're not. No woman with a voice like yours could be ugly." Was that a compliment? "Though, in reality, all a pirate wants are two things: a mouth, and a good pair of tits. The rest we could care less about." once more, she felt waves of revulsion start up.
"So, any second thoughts about my... proposition, last night?" Hook asked. He was clearly enjoying this.
"Yes," Emma said, trying to make her voice breathy. Hook raised an eyebrow.
"Please elaborate," he said, his smirk beginning to turn into a leer.
"I've been thinking," Emma started conversationally, "That I would really like to punch you in the face." the moment she said that, she knew it was the wrong thing to say. Hook's face contorted in rage, eyes darkening so much they looked black. In two movements, he had unlocked her cell and pulled her up to him, her hood beginning to ride up her face.
She waited, tensing, for him to do something- maybe punch her, or slap her, or threaten her. Instead, his lips covered hers in a cruel, punishing kiss that left her gasping for breath. He bit her lower lip over and over, hard enough that he drew blood, making her eyes water. As soon as she opened her mouth, gasping, his tongue slid in and he shoved her against the bars. Tentatively, she opened her eyes as his tongue began to plunder her mouth, to see his darkened, angry eyes boring into hers. The kiss continued on, and soon Emma was running out of air. Every time she tried to open her mouth to gulp in air, Hook pressed his lips more firmly onto hers and slid his tongue further into her mouth. Somehow, he still had plenty of air, but then he had been the one who had initiated it; he had probably taken a huge gulp of air before he started, or something.
A few more heartbeats passed by, and then Hook pressed on her throat, not lightly, but not heavily either, more with sort of a vicious control that cut off her remaining air. She felt panic begin to rise in her, but for the first time, she couldn't feel her magic.
That was when the real panic began.
A breathless heartbeat, and then another, passed, and finally, Emma sagged against the bars, feeling the lack of air begin to make her dizzy. Just as her vision darkened, Hook released her, and she collapsed in a heap on the ground. She had just enough of her consciousness left to pull the hood over her face once more before she lifted her head and retched.
"Let that be a lesson to you, Swan, to never do that again," Hook growled. "I do not tolerate disrespect, and it is about time you learned to respect me."
An angry retort along the lines of 'if you want my respect, you need to earn it' shot into her head, but as busy as she was, alternating between retching and panting for breath, she couldn't say it.
She also wasn't that stupid.
"Do you hear me, Swan?" he knelt down, hand hovering over her throat, and in an instant, Emma knew what he was going to do. He would choke her until she submitted. She looked him in the eye as evenly as she could, knowing she couldn't challenge him, but not willing to back down entirely either.
"Yes, Hook." he pressed against her now sore windpipe, and she winced.
"That's Captain to you," he growled. Without another word, he picked her up and bodily threw her back into the cell, locked it and turned on his heel once more.
Wiping off the droplets of blood clinging to her lip where Hook had bitten her, she once more cried herself to sleep.
A/N: So, here we are again! I apologize, for those that have read/are reading my other two fics 'At Last' and 'Not Broken, Just Bent', since time I spend working on this new fic means time I'm not spending on the other ones; however, my inner muse does what it wants to do, and as I am a slave to it, I must obey. Anyways, reviews are like Captain Swan- they make me feel warm and fuzzy on the inside. Any review written, though I might not always respond to them, is valued and appreciated. Since my fics are un-betaed, if you lovelies could report back any typos or things like that, that would be awesome. I hope you enjoy!