A/N- I have been thinking about writing a new fic for a little while now, but I really wanted to do something AU, and the ideas were few and far between. This was inspired by the ending of one of my old fics, To Hell and Back. I guess we'll see how it goes. This story is mostly unplanned and won't have a set update schedule, at least in the beginning. Like the show, it will bounce between flashbacks and the present time. Feedback is always welcome. Happy New Years!

-S.

The Enchanted Forest, eleven years ago

The night was still young when the Jolly Roger finally docked in the southern edge of Misthaven. The sun had only just set, and the breeze was not yet cool enough to warrant a shawl. Still, Princess Emma found herself covered in goose bumps. She was nervous, terribly nervous, and that was not an emotion she was very familiar with. Even running away from the castle had not set so many butterflies loose in her stomach.

Emma shook her head, her eyes cast down towards the water, watching as tiny waves lapped at the side of the ship. This ship, if not the ocean itself, had become more of a home to her than the palace ever had been. For twenty-one years, she sat in a golden cage, a crown weighing heavily on her head, as maids and servants bowed to her, bending to her every whim.

She hated it.

All she ever wanted was to be free, to do as she wished. She wanted to travel the world, to meet new people and try new things. She wanted to be in control of her own destiny. It wasn't fair, she'd told her mother once, over a golden platter of roast duck, the likes of which, most people would never see. Her parents had only been royal by birth. Her mother had spent years wandering the forest, on the run from a madwoman, yes, but she had been free. And she had not, by any stretch of the imagination, been a princess. And her father's story was even worse. For a good portion of his life, he had not even been a prince. And even then, it was not by blood. Why should she be stuck with the suffocating dresses, the boring parties, and worst by far, the stuffy princes?

All she wanted was a life that was her own. And she found it in the most unlikely of places.

"You're cold," a soft voice drifted from behind her. A hand appeared on her right and began rubbing her arm soothingly, as if trying to coax the warmth back into her. Only, she knew that her goose bumps had absolutely nothing to do with the weather. She wasn't about to tell him that though. Not yet. Perhaps tomorrow, if she found herself to be brave enough by then.

"I'm fine," she assured, turning so that the water was at her back. She was met with deep blue eyes, and concerned little half-frown that tugged uncomfortably at her heart. She didn't want to see him any less than happy. So, she stood up on the tips of her toes, and did the only thing that she knew would put a smile back on his face.

She kissed him. It wasn't anything more than a few chaste pecks, but it was enough to wake her up, to leave her wanting more. He groaned against her, letting her know that, yes, he felt the same way. "I was going to ask you if you wanted to go eat something, but now-" he trailed off, following the column of her neck with his lips. "I'm quite tempted to lock us away in our quarters."

"Now that you mention it, I am quite hungry," she responded, slinking away from him with a mischievous glint in her eye. "Perhaps we could finish this… later?"

"You, my lovely wife," he began, following her towards the gangplank, "are a great tease."

She sent him a grin over her shoulder. "Oh Killian, is that not one of the many reasons you love me?"

He laughed, and it was a big, hearty thing that seemed to echo through the night. "Indeed it is."

The pair made their way off of the ship together, finding the tavern that the majority of the crew had settled on with ease. The conversation and laughter of the night was almost enough to make Emma forget the daunting task that lay ahead of her. But, by the time she had refused a third drink, it was impossible to escape the knowledge.

She was pregnant.

That, in itself was not a cause for alarm, but the circumstances surrounding it were. She was a runaway princess, a princess who, in the eyes of her parents, of her entire kingdom, really, was meant for a prince. And she, adventurous and strong willed as she was, had married a pirate, a pirate she was completely and totally in love with.

She fell asleep that night, wrapped in her husband's arms, wondering how in the world she was going to tell Captain Hook that he was going to be a father. It didn't matter though. She would not get the chance.

Just outside, an ominous cloud of purple smoke settled over the kingdom, and it would leave no stone unturned.

Boston, present day

Emma Jones woke up the same way she had every day for the past eleven years: alone and terrified (though she'd never admit it). Great beams of light passed through the curtains that lined the right side of the room, and, well, that didn't make any sense at all. The portholes in the Captain's Cabin of the Jolly Roger were far too small to let in that much light.

She cracked one eye open, and then, upon realizing that she didn't know where she was, the other popped open along with it. Multiple things became apparent all at once.

She was no longer on board the Jolly.

She was alone in the bed, which was far more comfortable than hers had been.

She could not feel the gentle rocking of the waves outside.

Something was very, very wrong.

Without thinking too much, because that would lead to dangerous places, surely, she nearly leapt from the bed, and began examining her new surroundings. Along with the bed, she found a nightstand laden with a few books she did not recognize, and an armchair covered in an extremely small dress, a red leather jacket not unlike Killian's, and a pair of high heels. When her exploration of the closet did not lead to any useful information, she pulled on a pair of what seemed to be riding pants, only they were made of a strange material she had never encountered before, and a top that seemed to be made of refined cotton.

She only found three other dresses, none of which were the long, confining things she had been made to wear for pretty much her entire life. This made her rather happy, as she felt she'd dealt with enough of those types of dresses to last her several life times.

Upon further inspection of the house, she discovered another three rooms. Down a hallway not far from the bed chamber, she found a strangely bright, tiled room, which housed so many things, she dare not try to identify them all. From the strange chair like object, to the glass paned cubicle, to the litany of things that lined the counter top, she knew she was outnumbered. Further down the hall, the space opened up into what she assumed were the living quarters, and then, off of that room, there was another with even more odd contraptions that confused her to no end. How could a fire start in a matter of seconds without flint?

Eventually, she reached the point where, even if she did not understand it, she knew every area of the house. It all had her quickly moving towards terrified again, for in her search, while she had found numerous interesting treasures, she had yet to find the one thing she was searching for: her husband.

Had she been sent into this new world alone?

Would she ever make it out?

It was this thought that had her walking towards the door. Clearly, nothing in here was going to help her figure things out. Her hand was already on the doorknob when she caught sight of it. The object was small, so small that it hung from the wall on the tiniest of hooks. It had a black base, and a metal, sharp toothed, tip. Whatever it was, she was tempted to reach out and touch it. She never expected what would happen when she did.

A barrage of images flashed through her mind.

Being moved from family to family, confused as to why no one wanted her.

Crying as yet another nice couple was forced to send her away.

Running away from a particularly nasty man who was meant to be her father.

Meeting her best friend, only to be abandoned and betrayed by her later.

Attempting to steal the large yellow contraption to which this key belonged.

Going on adventures with a man named Neal.

Being sent away to a terrible prison for a crime she did not commit.

Giving up her son.

She gasped, and the keys fell through her shaking fingers with a soft thud. Her hands dropped to her stomach, but of course, it was too early to notice a difference. The other night, after two months without her cycle, and a few weeks of nauseating mornings, she had been absolutely sure that she was with child. But now, now-

There was a knock at the door, breaking her out of her thoughts. At first, she considered ignoring it, hoping that whoever it was would just go away, and let her fall apart in peace. But no, of course not. A few seconds passed, and Emma had had enough. She reached for the door, yanking it open a bit too forcefully. What met her there, on the other side of the door, completely eradicated any anger she'd had before.

"Are you Emma Swan?"

A/N- And there you have it, chapter one. I'm going to leave it at T for now, but seeing as there will be many flashbacks, and pirate Hook is a little too irresistible, the rating might go up in the future.

-S.