Standard Disclaimer Time! I do not own Once Upon A time, or it's characters. Nor do I make any money off of this story. This is done purely for fun, for entertainment purposes, for a creative outlet.

-Michelle

From a young age, I have known my fair share of heart break, my life left in shambles. From the mother who was taken from me far too soon, to the father who could not truly love me, and everything in between, it's not been a charmed life that I have led. For all the riches, for all the indulgence, the endless toys and then books, I've always existed as separate from other people. With nary a true friend to my name, just servants and those angling to elevate their own status, even my own father has sought to use me.

There was never any doubt in my mind that he would one day try. That my life at the convent would not continue, that I would not be allowed to exist as I had, free of the lace and frills of my title, the thick heavy gowns, and the responsibility of my crown. The one uncertain factor in all this? Just WHEN would the summons come, and just how desperate would he let things get? But the answer to the latter is by not very much, my father a cold, hard, practical man who upon the first stirrings of true war, immediately sought to make an alliance. Only then did he truly think of me, only then did he want to be bothered with the daughter he had cast away. By my virgin blood, and by my hand in marriage, my father, the King, would seal the alliance.

I had always known it would come down to this. I had always known I would have no say in who I would marry. Never was the hope of marrying for love and respect. And never for the idea of family and friendship. I was a political tool, a means to an end, a pretty bauble meant to dangle before the most powerful of Lords. And there were few as powerful as the house my father meant to tie me to. The House of Hunters, the slayers of ogres, the ender of wars. A far too distant neighbor of ours, the House of Hunters shouldn't have even been interested in the troubles of the kingdom of Avonlea. We weren't the richest of kingdoms, neither in land, money, or people. And yet, my father did have one thing to appeal to them. To appeal more specifically to their unmarried King. Gaston of the House Of Hunters, had always been a great lover of beauty. At least in the physical, feminine form. I am no conceited twit, but I have been told I am beautiful, and that I only grow more so every year.

Rumors of my supposed beauty were all that it took. Not talk of my intelligence, my courage, my heart that was so ready to love and be loved. Gaston cared for none of it. For him, only the best would do, the most beautiful of females rumored to exist in all of the Enchanted Kingdoms. Only THAT woman would do as his wife. I was sent for almost immediately, the summons arriving, and within the hour I and my entourage were hustled onto a ship. There hadn't been any time to pack. There hadn't been any time for any real goodbyes. I had been collected, along with my chaperon, and several of the women who had worked closely with me as servant and aide over the thirteen years I had lived at the convent.

The convent is as close to home as I could claim, the castle I had lived in with my father a distant, blurred memory at best. I had barely been eight years of age, the last time I had set foot there, and my mother hadn't been dead for more than a week. I hadn't been allowed to cry, hadn't been given any true comfort or attempts at solace. I had worn a pretty dress of black silk, and was paraded out with the coffin, the brave little princess who had lost her mother too soon. The kingdom had wept for me, and then just like that, I was all but forgotten.

I have just one special memory of that time before I was shipped off to the convent. The one sympathetic face, the sad but knowing eyes, and the crooked shape of his lips. He had been handsome even then, with his boyish good looks already hinting at the devastating beauty he would one day grow into. To me alone did he speak. To me did he offer condolences, a plain cotton handkerchief being pressed into my small hands. Telling me that it was okay to cry, to let it all out, with a wisdom that belied his young age.

I can remember shaking with the suppressed emotion, not knowing how to let it out, how to even try. He had moved as though to touch me, and just like that, the flood gates had opened. The tears had fallen, and I had muffled my cries with the handkerchief that the boy had given me. He had stood there looking a little lost at my tears, wanting to comfort me more, but knowing two things. I was inconsolable not just because my mother had died, but because of my station. As a princess, I wasn't to be touched by those with common blood. Even my closest servants, had been of the nobility, daughters past the marriageable age, or those disgraced by scandal of their own.

This boy, beautiful and brave, had risked so much just by approaching me. A fact that was not appreciated by his older brother. That youth who was already so close to being a man, had not been anywhere half as handsome as the boy who had first approached me. Nor had he been anywhere as kind, his face angry, his blues eyes so similar to that of his younger brother, but sparking wild with his shock and his fury. I remember him roughly grabbing hold of his brother, snarling his name, and forcing the boy to bow down before me. I had tried to soothe him, tried to explain to him that the boy, that Killian, had done nothing wrong. But I don't think that I was believed.

I don't know what happened to that boy. Don't know what punishment his brother might have inflicted on him. Two days later, it was beyond my ability to care, the shock of being sent away numbing me to everything but the fact that I was losing the only home I had ever known. And now for the second time, do I stand on a ship, watching as a place I had also known as home grow smaller and smaller, the further out to sea that we went.

Even after I can no longer see it, can no longer spy even a glimpse of the convent's grouping of islands, I stay situated at the rail. The chill wind blows through and rustles my clothing, tugs at the curling strands that have escaped my otherwise tightly bound hair. The cloak about my shoulders is the softest of fur lined velvet, and the many layers of heavy dress that I wear, help to keep me warm. But I can barely breathe for the tight corset, the confines of a princess' gown so different from the simple shifts and dresses that I had worn when at the convent.

Already caught in the trappings of my title, the ship that I ride on, has come prepared for a princess. Made heavy with my dowry, with the many chests of gold, along with dresses and jewels and an assortment of toiletries, I go not to my father, but travel instead to meet my soon to be husband. I grip the rail of the ship, grateful that the kidskin gloves that I wear, hide how white my knuckles have gone. I will not cry, will not let them see my proud and haughty facade crumble. But I mourn the life that I am losing, the freedom that was never truly mine to command.

My chaperon, an older woman appointed by my father, stands off to the side of me. She wears a disapproving frown, fusses with her own cloak, and makes muttered comments about how we should get below deck before the storm hits. I tune her out as best I can, staring, staring as though my will alone will get the ship to turn around. It doesn't, and it wouldn't, not even at a request from me. Princess I may be, but I am not in charge here, not in command of even my own destiny. I can only hope that my husband, will be a kinder man than my father ever was, that Gaston won't make too many demands of my time, and allow me the chance to just be.

With that hope in my heart, I stand for just short of forever at that railing. Around my chaperon and I, the sailors run rampant, rushing to and fro to ready the ship for the approaching storm. I hear the hard sound of canvas flapping, the men trying to tie it up, so that the storm's winds won't rip the sail to shreds. And then I hear a cry of the man up in the crow's nest, the sailor shouting out word that another ship has appeared over the horizon. I turn in the new ship's direction, and can barely make out anything, not even with the aid of a looking glass. I catch snippets of conversation, the sailors describing a ship that match that of one of my father's fleet. They assumed it is just one more escort, a ship to join the half a dozen that are sailing with us towards Gaston's kingdom. There is a relaxed air about them, the men confidant and unconcerned, until another ship is spotted. And then another, and another, and then the sky is cracking apart, rain falling and thunder booming as a cannon ball careens into the side of one of the escorts.

My chaperon turns pale faced and screams. Others scream as well. I hear one word repeated over and over, pirates, and it moves the crew into new action. The sailors run to arm their cannons, and the soldiers that had been resting below deck rush up top ready to lend a hand, ready to fight and die to protect the ship's cargo. My chaperon nearly faints, clutching at my arm for support. I stand frozen, my mouth agape, and then a cannon ball takes out the mast of the ship that I am on. Suddenly I can't move fast enough, dragging the older woman with me, as I look for what exactly I do not know. There's no truly safe spot aboard a ship that is being attacked, that is constantly bombarded with cannon fire, and there is no real escape either.

"Get below deck!" Screams a commanding officer. I balk at the idea, thinking it a sure death sentence should the ship start to go under. My chaperon reacts to the soldier, to the order that he bellows. She's already dragging my unwilling form forward, and down the creaking steps. I can still hear the explosions, still hear the storm and the screams. But most of all I hear the crying, the women below deck fearing not just for their lives, but for their virtue. I should fear for my own as well, but I am in state of shock. I remain that way as I am hustled into the royal cabin, as other women are brought in to tend to my needs. I have none in the moment, and just stand there as the women weep and huddle together for support. They envelope me within their fold, and together we hold hands, and many pray. And then we feel the ship rocked hard in place, the worst of the cannon fire yet, which galvanizes one of the servants to start screaming.

Her screams get through my shock, and then I am slapping her, trying to make her calm down and be quiet. It doesn't quite work, her muffled whimpers an accompaniment to the new sounds that we hear. That of the ship being boarded, the battling taking on a more personal desperation as pirate and solider fight, and sword meets cutlass. The sounds of the fighting, of men dying, and the occasional boom of cannon fire? it lasts for what feels like hours.

It's no better when the worst of the fighting just stops. We hear the death rattling above us, hear the victors laughing and securing the ship. Most of all we hear the torture, the interrogation that goes on.

"Where is your princess?! Where does she hide?!"

Wide fearful eyes look to me for guidance. I can't be frightened now, I can't afford to be. I lift my head proudly, tear the jeweled tiara off my brow, and throw it to the floor.

"They can't know that I am the princess." I say. The women just keep looking at me, and I snap out louder. "They cannot know! Do you understand?!" They react to the authoritative sound of my voice, nodding dumbly.

"Quickly!" I hiss, shrugging out of my cloak. I then start pulling off the jewels that they had covered me in, the necklace and the many rings of a princess. I even go so far as to wash off the make up, but there's not time to change out of the dress. Even if there was, there's nothing like what I had worn at the convent to fit me here now.

I make do with what I have, trying to help some of the women of a similar size and build fit into some of my wardrobe. Soon enough there is at least three of us dressed somewhat similarly, that it won't be immediately apparent just who is the princess.

We stand together, and await our fate, and then the door to the royal cabin is kicked open. No one screams, though there is a collective gasp, the women huddling closer together at the sight of the group of pirates. They look and leer at us, but more than that, the jewels on the floor catch their attention. Suddenly the room is full of pirates, a dozen or more, and they are looting the place, taking everything of value from it. I hear excited shouts from elsewhere in the ship, and realize the pirates have found the chests of gold that make up my dowry. I don't try to delude myself into thinking that is all they have come for. And I'm right. The women and I are herded upstairs, out onto the deck. It is a scene straight out of a nightmare, for though the blood has been washed away by the rain, the bodies remain. I close my eyes against the sight, then whip my head around at a shout.

One of the officers is still alive, battling with a dark haired pirate. The pirate is clad all in black leather, and is a dark shadow against the storm. The soldier is clad in the blue and gold military uniform of my kingdom, and he fights with all that he has left. It's not enough, even my inexperienced eye can see that the pirate is toying with him, his laughter carrying to me over the roar of the wind. A woman cries out, and as one we all turn our heads away too late to block out the sight of the sword stabbing straight through, the officer being viciously impaled. A cheer rises up from the pirates, and I want to clap my hands over my ears to block out that mocking sound.

I don't do it, anymore than I close my eyes to what is happening around me. Past the women I stay huddled with, I can see at least two of our six ships already floundering, taking on water. It'll be a few hours yet before the ships actually goes down completely, but it's already started.

Surrounding us, with still smoking cannons are four ships. Three of them look very much how a pirate's ship was expected to be, right down to black canvas flag with the skull and daggers painted on it. But the sight of the fourth ship shocks me, for it not only mimics one of my father's fleet, it IS one. I recognize the name, react with shock to see the lost Jewel of the Realm before me and under these circumstances. Lightning flashes brighter, and I see that the stolen ship bears the pirates' flag as well. I have so many questions, wondering what has happened to it's crew, and then the pirates are grabbing at us, pulling us out of the huddle that we had clung to for comfort.

"Which one of you is the princess?!"

I can feel harsh fingers digging into my arms, shaking me for an answer I won't give them. None of the women will, we stand united, ready to die if need be, if it means thwarting the pirates in this much at least. I stand just as brave as any of them, silent in the face of this threat, and then lightning illuminates the sky. I gasp, my eyes widening, staring at the pirate who is slowly approaching. He is casual as he wipes off the blood and gore from his sword, but that proof of his brutality is not what I am reacting to. It's him, his appearance, the boy now a man but no less handsome here than he was then.

My mouth opens without my thinking, the words, a name issuing out of me in a strangled sound.

"Killian?"

Instantly he is before me, his hands reaching for me. One touches my shoulder, the other grips rough hold of my chin. I shake in shock, never having known the touch of a man beyond that of my father. My skin prickles with cold and awareness, the blue eyes familiar but not. Gone is the sympathy, the gentle caring. In it's place is a blazing coldness, a narrowed stare as he studies me intently. With his hand as the guiding force, he turns me so that he can admire my profile from another angle. This way and that way, does he look at me, and then at last he nods.

"It's her."

"How can you be sure?" asked a red cap wearing pirate.

"Don't doubt me, Smee." The pirate, Killian, hasn't let go of me. He's almost smiling, but there's a world of cruelty in that look. It's so foreign and unrecognizable to the boy I had remembered, my lips parting to ask, to demand, what had happened to him to make him become this...this menace.

"This is her. This is the princess of Avonlea..." He speaks it so certainly, and with a dark purring undertone of satisfaction to those words. "Belle..."

I react to hearing my name on his lips, shaking my head no. "What? I'm not..."

"Don't LIE to me!" His voice cracks like a whip. The women cry out, fearing for me. I don't blame them. He looks so furious now, like a demon ready to strike, and I wonder if he will slap me. He doesn't, instead dragging me with him, towards the railing.

"Vengeance is ours!" That makes the pirates cheer. I've no idea what this means, what vengeance I could possibly play a hand in. And then I hear the pirate say words that made my already cold blood freeze.

"Sink the ships." Killian orders. "Let there be NO survivors..."

"What?! No! You can't!" I start to say, and find myself suddenly lifted up. I fight him, I scream, and then find myself thrown over his shoulder. I scream harder, start beating at his back, and he slaps a hand on my bottom. It shocks more than hurts, the heavy layers of my skirts, protecting me from the worst of the slap.

"You can't do this!" I still scream as he carries me off. "You can't..." I shake my head, trying to plead with him. "Haven't you killed enough?! At least let the women go!"

"I'll not have word of this reach your father until I want it to." He retorts.

"Please!" I beg this time. "The women...they have done nothing, they don't deserve..."

"They deserve less what will happen to them onboard a ship with pirates." Killian retorts. I shake in response, knowing he is right, but unable to reconcile the idea that the women would be better off dead than raped.

"Please..." I all but whisper it. "At least...least let the women decide..."

I don't believe for a second I've reach him, that I've appealed to whatever shred of decency a pirate is capable of having. But then he stops, turns to the man that he had named Smee. They hold a muttered, hurried conversation, and all the while I whisper please. I almost wilt with relief when the pirate Smee hurries off to relay the captain's words, the women being offered a choice. Come with the pirates, or stay here and die. Most choose the fate worst than death, weeping and hysterical, but ready to live rather than drown.

I'm about the only one not crying, not hysterical, too limp with relief and the fear of what had almost happened to the women. What could still happen. I block out the thought that that same thing might happen to ME, instead whispering my questions.

"Why are you doing this?" I ask. "What does your vengeance have to do with my father?"

He doesn't answer me, not right away. He takes the time to get us onboard the Jewel of the Realm, and actually leaves me to dangle from his shoulder as he gives out orders. The women are then brought onboard, but it will take time for all of the loot to be secured. When at last he does slide me off of his shoulder, it is done slowly, menacingly, letting me feel every hard inch of his body. Shorter and softer than him, I have to stare up to meet the hard, unforgiving gaze of his blue eyes.

"Everything." He snarls. "My vengeance is owed everything to your father."

That only leaves me with more questions, a dozen or more racing through my mind. My lips tremble, my mouth opens to speak. "This is not the way...vengeance is never the way."

"I'll be the judge of that." Is his retort.

"You'll spark a war that will devastate our homeland!" I stare at him, my gaze searching his. "Is whatever my father did, do the people of Avonlea deserve what your vengeance will bring them?!"

That gives him pause. And then his eyes narrow with a hateful gleam. "It's no less than what Maurice would do to so many others!"

"What are you talking about?!" I cry out. "He is trying to STOP the war from happening. He wants peace..."

"Peace?" He snorts. "Peace is the furthest thing on that King's mind."

"That's not true!" I protest. "The alliance..."

"The alliance isn't about peace, but about securing and maintaining his power. He'll do anything for it, to keep it, and to expand it...even whore out his only daughter."

The slap I give him turns his head to the side. "Bastard!" I seethe. "How dare you."

"It hurts, doesn't it?" Killian asks. "The truth..." The flash of lightning illuminates his smile for one second. "Well there is a lot more truth and hurt to be had!" He shoved at me, and I stumbled, crashing into the waiting arm of the pirate named Smee.

"Captain?" He inquries, and Killian motions with a jerk of his head toward the railing.

"Let her see just a taste of what her father has wrought..."

"Aye aye captain!" Smee exclaims, and starts dragging me to the railing. Held there, I am forced to watch the ships that we leave behind. They grow smaller and smaller, but the many flames destroying them light up their positions on the water. It's not until we are quite some distance away, that the pirates open fire, mercilessly pummeling the already floundering ships.

"So cruel..." I whisper. It's all I can manage, standing and staring, then sagging weakly in Smee's grip. It's all too much for me, the storm and the pirates, and especially HIM. What has happened to Killian, what has made the man so different from the boy that I remembered? I don't know, but I am determined to find out.

To Be Continued...

Hate my ending paragraph. =/

So...this is an AU idea I have been trying to start for over a year. I could never get it started to my satisfaction. Originally, my ideal was to have to all be a Belle POV up to the middle of the story, than switch to Killian telling the rest. But it's not gonna work out that way. I'll be switching between them as the story deem fit.

Originally, the drafts I had were VERY different. I wanted it to be set in the future, where Killian wakes up Belle and they have a intimate encounter. Then one of them starts reflecting on how this all had happened. but I could never get that version right. Damn it!

For the most part I am happy with what I ended up with! Yay! Still need a title though. Glad to finally have the first chapter written. By the way, not sure if it's apparent, but Killian here has BOTH his hands. XD

Laters! Oh wait...taking title suggestions as I have none at the moment!

-Michelle