Author's note: This came from a Tumblr prompt. Pirate!Killian/Princess Emma AU. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Nope.

Chapter 1

Emma hated these things. She hated having to sit beside her parents as they dispensed justice in their realm. She knew it was important, but she'd seen it so many times that it had become rote, just another task for her to suffer through. Still, she was the Crown's only heir and she had a duty, even if it was a duty she despised and hadn't asked for.

"One day you will be Queen," her mother reminded her, so many times that Emma could hear her voice in her head. "You'll need to understand these things when the time comes."

A future queen she may be, but it wasn't the life Emma wanted for herself. She wanted to be free, to have the chance to make her own mistakes, live her own life as she saw fit. Ruling held no charm for her.

But she loved her parents, so here she was as the seemingly never ending parade of lawbreakers were brought before their majesties to pass sentence. She'd long since tuned out her father's voice, preferring to think about how she would sneak out later for a long ride in the forest. Gods knew she needed it.

There was a collective murmur from the assembled crowd as the great hall's massive doors opened. Chains clanked as the prisoner was brought forward, two strong knights on either side. Finally pulled from her thoughts, Emma's eyes widened as they took in the sight before her. She leaned over to her mother. "Is that who I think it is?"

Snow White scowled. "Yes, Emma. It is."

"But-"

Her mother shook her head, the words implicit. Not now.

Emma felt disappointment well in her, wanting to argue, but knew it would do no good. Instead, she turned her head back to the prisoner. He was tall, dressed in black and leather from head to toe. All except the vest. His vest was deep red, like blood. The entire ensemble did much to enhance the already handsome face—far more handsome than she had been led to believe—with his thick dark hair, scruff and piercing blue eyes. The sunlight in the hall glinted off the silver hook that sat where his left hand should have been.

There was no doubt that this was the infamous Captain Hook, most feared pirate in all the realms.

And somehow her family had managed to capture him.

Emma stared at him as he crossed the hall, apparently unperturbed about the chains that bound his wrists and ankles. Indeed, he almost looked bored, as if this were some picnic and not an encounter that would decide his earthly fate. Emma had no doubt as to what that fate would be. It struck her what a waste it would be to have a specimen such as he wiped from the world.

Wait...what? Emma blinked, horrified by her errant thought. Objectively, yes, the pirate captain was gorgeous, anyone could see that. But he was a pirate, a criminal. Who'd left a trail of death and destruction behind him. She couldn't be attracted to such a person. She just...couldn't.

And yet her eyes never left him. She drank him in greedily as he approached the dais, taking in the arrogant stride and the way his long leather coat swished around his legs. Worse was the exposed hair on his chest from where his shirt lay open. Emma wondered just how much hair there was was, if it would be soft to the touch.

Emma's grip on the arm of her throne tightened, her face flaming with embarrassment. She shouldn't be having these thoughts. At all. Yes, she was nineteen, but she was also still a maiden. She couldn't be having a fantasy about a pirate. What would her parents say? She thought momentarily of bolting, of just running to her room and never coming out again, but knew she couldn't embarrass her parents like that. So she took deep breaths, trying to get her thoughts back under control. And to look at anything but the pirate.

"Killian Jones, known to some as Captain Hook," her father, David, announced to the assembled throng. "For crimes against the realm, including flagrant piracy-"

"Is there any other kind, your highness?" the pirate cut in.

Emma blinked, stunned. First, for the man audacity to interrupt her father—no one did that, except her mother. Second, for that voice. It felt like silk to her ears, low and gravelly, with a lilting accent that make her head swim. She hoped no one noticed her momentary loss of composure as she sucked in a breath trying to steady her suddenly racing heart. What on earth was he doing to her?

David, meanwhile, scowled in disgust. "Are you denying the charge?"

The captain glanced around the room, completely unconcerned, the swagger evident in the way he carried himself. "Now why would I do that?" he said, leering up at the dais. "Aye, I'm a pirate. Proud of it in fact. Scourge of the Seas, they call me."

"So you admit your guilt?" The pirate shrugged. "And what of the other charges?"

"I've committed many sins, but I've never killed a man who couldn't defend himself. And I've never forced a lass into my bed. Call it a pirate's code, if you like."

Emma, inexplicably, felt something very like jealousy trickle down her spine at that last bit. She knew without a doubt it was true. She'd always had an instinct for the truth; it occasionally came in handy in these long tedious sessions. But she knew that this man, whatever his other faults, had no reason or desire to force himself on anyone. Or take a life without the ability for defense. It was so at odds with that she had been taught about pirates...Emma wondered what had made him this way. But she would probably never know.

"Pirate's code or not, you are guilty of piracy, theft and kidnapping, by your own admission," Snow White interjected. "We therefore have no choice but to sentence you to death."

It was as Emma had expected. There was no other choice. The man's sins were too numerous to allow him to live. But she couldn't help the way her stomach lurched as her mother announced the sentence. She continued to stare, feeling rooted to the spot. Then to her surprise, the pirate's blue eyes locked with hers across the space. They seemed to bore into her, as if reading every thought she had ever had. Oh gods, Emma thought as her face heated up, sure that he could read her mind, would know the highly inappropriate thoughts she'd had about him.

If he had read her mind, he gave no sign, merely widened his eyes as if he were seeing the sun for the first time. No one had ever looked at Emma like that and she had no idea what to do. Before she could open her mouth, the guards were dragging the pirate away, chains clanking. He stole one last glance at her over his shoulder, then he was gone.

Emma didn't even wait for her father's dismissal; she was up and gone herself. She needed to escape, needed air. The whole inexplicable encounter with the pirate had discombobulated her. He hadn't even spoken to her. But those eyes...Vaguely, she heard her mother call out for her, but Emma ignored it. Instead, she went to her room, changed into her riding clothes, and headed down to the stables, where Tom the groom had her favorite horse waiting for her. She hoped a long ride would clear her head.

It worked, to a point. When Emma returned, she felt calmer, more at peace. She even flirted with Tom, studiously ignoring the nagging thought that she wanted to be flirting with someone else. Someone who was dark where Tom was fair, someone who had bright sapphires for eyes instead of chestnuts.

"Where have you been, my lady?" her maid Greta asked when Emma returned to her room. "The Queen is looking for you."

"I went for a ride," Emma said, frowning. "Surely, that's not a crime now." Since Emma had finished her studies, her mother had largely left Emma to her own devices, letting her come and go as she pleased. It would be her only freedom until she inevitably married and started her own family, something Emma wasn't especially keen on yet.

"She looked anxious," Greta confided, as she helped Emma back into her gown. "And I've heard rumbling among the servants. Preparations, it looked like."

"Preparations for what?"

"I don't know, my lady. I tried asking Mother—she's one of the Queen's seamstresses—but she won't tell me."

"I guess I better go see what the fuss is about then."

Emma headed down to her mother's solar, an strange sense of foreboding settling her stomach. It wasn't like her mother to keep secrets. In fact, Snow White abhorred secrets and wasn't very good at keeping them. It was what had sent her on the run as a bandit in the first place, before she met David and defeated her stepmother to regain her crown. Emma had heard the story a thousand times; sometimes she had trouble picturing her petite kindly mother as an arrow wielding bandit, but she knew it was true.

"Emma, there you are," Snow White said when Emma entered the room. "Didn't you hear me calling you earlier?"

"No, I must have missed it. I'm sorry," Emma replied, only somewhat apologetic. "Greta said you were looking for me?"

Snow bit her lip; Emma could sense the other woman's nervousness. "Sit. Your father thought it best if I broke the news to you in private."

Emma sat on the settee and looked at her mother curiously. "What news?"

"We've...well, there no good way to say it, I suppose. We've found a husband for you."

Emma blinked, her mouth falling open. "You...what?"

"A husband," Snow repeated with false cheeriness. "Emma, honey, you're getting married!"

She was still too stunned to form coherent thoughts. "Why?"

Snow twisted a kerchief in her hands. "You're my heir, Emma. You have to get married sometime."

"I know that," Emma snapped. "But why now? And why are you choosing for me? Don't I get to fall in love first?"

"Emma, your father and I...it's a very unusual case."

"Marrying for love is unusual?!"

"For people like us...yes. My father had an arranged marriage. My parents were perfectly happy."

"Yeah, until your mother was murdered and Grandpa married Regina! Then she killed him and tried to kill you! I'm sorry if I'm not going to just take your word for it." Emma stood up, pacing back and forth angrily. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Snow White and Prince Charming, the epitome of True Love, were arranging a marriage for their only daughter?

"Emma, please. You don't understand."

"What don't I understand? Please, Mother, explain it to me."

"I told your father this would happen."

"What would happen? I'm trying to understand, but you're not making any sense."

Snow White sighed heavily, defeated. "It's Rumplestiltskin, Emma."

A shiver ran down her spine. "You want me to marry the Dark One?!"

"No, no, Emma. Of course not. It's his son, Baelfire. You remember him, right?"

Emma thought; she had a vague recollection of a dark haired boy when she was younger. She also remembered not liking him very much. "Why him?"

"The Dark One wants to unite the kingdoms, Emma. He threatened your father, the whole kingdom. We don't have magic, Emma. Not like he has. We didn't have a choice. We had to keep you safe."

"Selling me to his son is keeping me safe?"

Snow was near tears. "I'm sorry, Emma. I never wanted this for you. I swear. But we didn't have a choice."

Emma looked down at her mother, desperately trying to hold back her distress. She couldn't believe this was happening. Her mother—her beautiful, loving mother—was selling her to the scourge of the Enchanted Forest. She thought about the pirate, not long for the gallows. And wished she was joining him.

Emma stared into the mirror, rearranging her curls for the twentieth time. She had to be mad. This was by far the stupidest, most reckless thing she had ever done. But it was the only way she could think of to rail against the unjustness of her fate, aside from running away. And Emma wouldn't run. She wasn't a coward. But if the Dark One wanted her for something, then she would do all in her power to make sure he got damaged goods. And let him choke on them.

A single tear slipped down her cheek, Emma wiped it away angrily. She was through crying. It was time she do something. She took one last spin around her room, lighting candles until a soft glow filled the room. Not exactly romantic, but then this wasn't about romance. This was about making sure that the son of Dark One didn't get to be the first one to touch her, defiling the one thing that made her a precious commodity. Who better for that than a pirate?

There was a soft knock on the oak door; Emma ran to pull it open, just enough for her visitor to slip through. She'd long since made sure the guards who typically lurked in the hall were asleep via a tankard of dosed mead. She didn't want to be interrupted or found out. Greta stood on the other side, looking white as a sheet, but Emma nodded to her, letting her know it was okay. The girl curtsied and hurried off.

Her hand shaking, Emma closed the door. It was time to face her visitor.

The pirate rounded on her the moment the door closed. "You."

Emma swallowed, her nerves jangling under her skin. "Do you know why I've asked you here, pirate?" To her surprise, her voice sounded much steadier than she felt.

"Can't rightly say that I do. But I must admit, princess," the pirate replied, advancing toward her, "that I am intrigued. What use could a lowly pirate be to a princess?"

The light from the candles played over the angles of his face, making him even more gorgeous if that were possible. Emma swallowed again, trying to keep her composure. She could do this. "I want you to ...bed me," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

The pirate blinked, momentarily stunned into silence. Emma's face felt hot, her whole body felt hot, still not quite believing she had spoken the words out loud. Suddenly, this seemed like a much worse plan than it had seemed in her head.

"Why?"

Of all the things she had expected him to say...none of them were that. "Do I need a reason?"

Hook stepped back, running his hand through his hair. "If I'm going to risk my neck, princess...aye, I need a reason."

"Risk your neck? You're already condemned. I was there."

Hook laughed, rich and dark, full of promise. "You don't really think that dungeon of yours could hold the likes of me, do you?"

"Then why are you still here? If you could have broken out any time, why stay? You're scheduled to die tomorrow." It was why she'd chosen this night for her plan.

Hook advanced toward her, a smirk on his lips. "Well, I was hoping to get a glimpse of the beautiful princess I saw at my trial, but she invited me to her chamber instead. I think I like this better."

"You wanted to see me?"

To her surprise, Hook's face softened. "Aye, lass. Didn't you know condemned men crave beauty in their final hours? Something to take with them before they face the hangman. And you, love, are the most beautiful thing I've seen in a very long time."

He was barely close enough to touch, but Emma could feel the stirring in her gut. That attraction she'd felt at the trial was back, simmering under the surface, powered by that honeyed voice of his. It made her want him for him, rather than just as a tool for her revenge.

"I'm being married off to the son of the Dark One," she explained quietly. "And I...I don't want to. I don't want him to..."

Hook pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. She didn't realize he'd gotten so close to her. "You don't wish him to be the first."

Emma bit her lip. "No."

"But you'd rather have a pirate?"

Emma looked up into those blue eyes, softly lit by the candles. "I heard what you said. At the trial. About never...I want this to be my choice. But I'll understand if you don't...want me."

"Lass, believe me, this has nothing to do with not wanting you. I think I wanted you the moment I laid eyes on you."

"You did?"

"Believe it or not, love, but you happen to be a very beautiful woman. A man would have to be dead not to want you."

"Here, I thought pirates just took what they wanted."

"A pirate I may be, but I am also a gentleman, love. Which I am...trying very hard to be right now."

Emma could see the tension in his stance; being this close to her was affecting him as well as her. "What if I said I didn't want you to? What if I told you I wanted the pirate and not the gentleman?"

"Then I would want you to be very, very sure, princess."

"It's Emma," she said, closing the distance between them. She wanted this—wanted him—to hell with the consequences. "And yes, I'm very sure."

She let out a soft yelp when he suddenly jerked her into his arms, his mouth hot on hers. Emma's hands flew to his biceps trying to hold herself up under the onslaught of his lips. It wasn't that she hadn't been kissed before, but she had never been kissed like this. He nipped at her lips, demanding entrance; Emma opened for him on instinct, momentarily shocked when he shoved his tongue into her mouth. But she caught on quickly, giving back in equal measure. Hook growled into her mouth, hauling her against him, backing them up until her back was against the door. It was a good thing too, because her knees were shaking and her legs felt like jelly under her.

It was almost like being washed through a riptide; he was all consuming, towering over her, threatening to swallow her whole. His lips left hers, giving her a chance to breathe, before latching onto her pulse and sucking greedily, his hips rocking to her. She could feel him pressed against her thigh, thick and long and she wondered how on earth he would fit.

"Emma. Gods, you taste divine, love." He shoved her robe off her shoulder, his lips sliding over her collar, scruff scratching her skin, making her gasp in pleasure. She clutched at him, no longer able to really hold herself up.

He must have sensed it because the next thing Emma knew, Hook had picked her up and carried her toward her bed, laying her down with more gentleness than she would have expected. He started peeling away her remaining clothing, until she was completely naked under his hungry gaze. "You are a vision," she heard him say, his hand gliding over her flushed skin.

Emma hardly had a moment to catch her breath when he was pushing her knees apart and lowering his head. A protest died on her lips when she felt his warm tongue press against her sodden flesh. "Oh," she gasped, her hips rolling upwards instinctively. She had no idea what she was doing, merely heeding the demands of her body.

"That's it, love," he coaxed, kissing the inside of her thigh. "Just like that. I'm gonna make you feel good before I take you. I promise."

Emma gasped sharply as his mouth worked over her in earnest, her fingers tightening in the sheets. She had never felt anything like this; her own hesitant explorations of that part of her doing nothing to prepare her for this. It felt like she was on fire, tension coiling in her stomach tighter and tighter until she was sure she would burst. She gasped again as he slid a single finger inside her, hips bucking against him.

"Fuck, Emma. You're so tight. Gonna feel so good around me, love." A second finger joined the first, moving quickly in and out of her and Emma cried out as a jolt shot through her. "Looks like I found my treasure," Hook mumbled, his fingers brushing that spot again and again. "Let go for me, Emma. Just let go." He lowered his head again, sucking on the sensitive bundle of nerves as his fingers moved inside her, his rings teasing her flesh.

Then it felt like she was falling, her body suffused in bliss, pouring out of every nerve, unintelligible cries tumbling from her lips. Hook kept touching her until she stilled at last, her breathing coming in harsh pants, sweat covering her body as her heart raced. Whatever he had done to her, it felt incredible and she desperately wanted to feel it again.

When Emma opened her eyes, she saw Hook stripping off his clothes. Emma licked her lips as she watched him undress, her fingers itching to touch his skin, feel the hard muscles under her palms. He laid his hook aside before crawling onto the bed with her. She saw the most private part of him bobbing between his legs, even bigger than she had imagined. Emma swallowed, unable to tear her gaze away. He saw her eyes and smirked, wrapping his hand around it and stroking gently.

"I won't lie to you, lass. This might hurt. But I'll go slowly, yeah?"

She had heard about that. Several years ago, her mother had warned her about it. Still, she wasn't worried. Somehow, she knew that this man would take care of her. Emma reached out and brushed her fingers over him; he felt warm and silky belying the hardness. Hook let out a shuddering breath.

"Gods, lass. Are you sure you've never done this before?"

"I've always been a quick study," she mumbled, wrapping her hand around it and stroking as she'd seen him do.

"Then I think I shall take great pleasure in teaching you."

The way he said it, almost got her to believe that there would be more than just this one night. That they could have many nights like this together, but that was insane. However, she knew she would leave this room completely wrecked for him. That nothing or no one would ever be able to compare. It didn't make sense; she hardly knew him. But it felt like she did. There was just something about the way he touched her, the way he spoke to her, that she felt deep in her soul. But she was just being silly, letting the moment get away from her. For this one night though, she could afford a flight of fancy.

Hook groaned softly as she stroked him. "Lass, if you don't stop, we'll have to wait before I can take you properly." He covered her hand with his. "Last chance to back out."

Emma shook her head, maybe a little too quickly. She wanted this memory to take with her. The memory of someone else's hands on her, someone else claiming her as theirs before her freedom was stolen from her. "No, I want you," she said firmly as she released him. Then her cheeks turned pink. "How do you..."

"Just lay back, lass. I'll do all the work."

She did as he bid, resting her head on her pillow. Hook rose up and spread her legs again, kissing his way up her thighs. The ache between her legs started to build again as she whimpered softly. Hook kissed his way up her body, suckling her breasts until she was gasping. Emma was close to begging, needing some kind of relief, when she felt the tip of him nudging her entrance, making her breathing hitch.

"Just relax, love," Hook whispered in her ear. His good hand slid between them and then she felt him. Felt him begin to slip inside her, slowly, letting her adjust to the intrusion. It felt so much different from his fingers, thicker and fuller. Emma tried to steady her breathing, sensing the worst was to come. Instinctively, Emma spread her legs wider, trying to help him ease into her. She could feel the pressure building, could see the sweat break out on her lover's forehead as he tried to hold himself back.

"So tight," he breathed. "Love, I need to..."

Emma nodded furiously, not trusting herself to speak. A sharp pain bloomed as he pushed deeper, then almost immediately started to fade until all she could feel was full. Hook brushed a kiss over her brow as he started to pull back a little before thrusting back in. He kept his thrusts short and measured until he was sure she could take it. Emma kissed him encouragingly, not wanting him to hold back. She wanted to feel everything.

"Please," she begged. "More."

Hook did as she asked, taking her with more force, deep strokes that made her toes curl in pleasure. After the initial discomfort, she felt nothing short of amazing as the now familiar tension built in her stomach. She held onto him, letting him do what he wanted as he murmured praise in her ear.

"Feels so good, lass," he mumbled, nipping at her earlobe. "Could fuck you for hours. Gods, I never want to stop. Want to keep you right here under me."

Emma nodded in agreement, dragging his lips down to hers for a needy kiss. She couldn't think about any of that now, of how they were only going to get this one night together. All she wanted to think about was right now and how incredible he made her feel.

"Come for me, lass. Want to feel you squeeze me." His good hand snaked between them as he braced himself on his stump, circling her bundle of nerves quickly. Emma felt her body jerk and tighten, until she was tumbling over the edge once more, his lips on hers to muffle her cries. She heard him grunt as he thrust twice more, spilling himself inside her.

Emma was too dazed to notice as he rolled off her, panting for breath. "S-s-sorry, lass. Got a bit carried away."

It took her a moment to realize he'd spoken. "What?"

"I didn't mean to...you could wind up with child, lass."

"Oh." Emma was trying to see how that would be bad.

"Usually, I don't care. But you're a...well, a princess. You deserve better."

"Never bedded a princess before?"

Hook shook his head. It was almost cute.

Emma rolled onto her side. "Hook..."

He put a finger to her lips. "After what we just did, you best call me by my name, love. Killian."

Emma found herself smiling. "Killian. Listen, I don't care about that. The whole point of this was to ruin me for...him." She couldn't even say his name. "If I showed up at the Dark One's castle with a pirate's bastard...well, maybe then he'd send me home. I'd be free."

"Or he'd kill you and the child. He's a nasty piece of work, Emma."

"Better that than be forced to marry his son."

"You don't mean that."

"Don't I? I always thought I'd be like my parents, get married for love, then have a family. I never thought they'd just...marry me off like I was sow at auction. But now they have and I...I don't know what to do."

"If I could take you from this, I would, lass."

Her heart lept. "You would?"

"Aye, no one deserves to have their right to choose taken away, not even a princess."

"But you hardly know me."

"I know enough. I felt like I knew you, the moment I saw you."

"I thought you were reading my mind."

Killian pushed her hair back from her face. "Maybe I was. Or maybe we've met in another life." He closed the gap and kissed her, his lips soft and gentle. She melted into him, pulling him closer, wanting to get lost in him until they had to part.

When Emma woke up the next morning, her body ached. All the memories from the night before came rushing back and she reached for Killian. The other side of the bed was empty. Her hand brushed over a piece of parchment, Killian's elegant handwriting covering the page.

Meet me at the South gate. Dusk. ~Killian

Emma clutched the paper to her chest. She couldn't run away with him, could she? Her parents. Her whole life was here. Then she remembered the marriage that lay ahead of her. Anything was better than that. Even life on a pirate ship.

Greta helped her pack a small rucksack of her things, promising to bring them to the gate at the appointed time. Emma tried to go about her day as if nothing had changed, but she wasn't sure she was successful. Her mother kept looking at her strangely. Emma was sure her cover was blown when the head jailor came to report that Killian was missing from the dungeon, but hardly anyone paid her any heed. The guards started searching the castle, but Emma knew they wouldn't find him. Her pirate was long gone. She was about to excuse herself to change when the trumpeters blew an unfamiliar fanfare. Emma ran to the window and saw Rumplestiltskin's carriage approaching.

She was trapped.