Chapter 3: The Devil's Backbone
A/N: This song was on constant loop as I wrote this. Three cheers for Gracie Paige Hatter - who is most certainly the most enthusiastic reviewer I've ever had. Except maybe for my dearest Polkie2 who's been fueling my excitement for writing FF from the very beginning.
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Emma turned to get a good look at the man who'd so flippantly propositioned her.
"Excuse me?" She said, incredulous. Sure, he was handsome, in a rather rugged and dirty sort of way which wasn't entirely unpleasant. But who did he think he was? Who did he think she was?
Careful, Emma, She thought to herself, You're not a Princess anymore. And even if you were, this is definitely not the place to make an announcement like that.
The man smirked at her, letting his eyes freely roam over her form, willing himself to focus on something more pleasant than Milah and the Dark One. As he gazed at her, he let his mind wander, imagining what sort of woman might be hiding beneath that heavy brown cloak.
"Barkeep!" He bellowed. The man instantly appeared, trembling from head to toe.
"Yes, Captain Hook, sir?" The poor man stuttered helplessly.
"A drink for the lady," He demanded, waving cordially in Emma's direction.
"Just a glass of water, please," Emma asked, her voice soft and unsure, trying not to let the Captain out of her sight. The barkeep disappeared behind the counter and produced a large brass pitcher filled to the brim with cool, clean water and two glasses. Emma thanked him before taking a sip. She swore it was the sweetest water she'd ever tasted. She let her eyes slide shut and her head fell back as she drained the glass in a few moments. Her hood slipped, effectively exposing her and the sight left Hook more than a little stunned at his own luck as he drank her in.
She's bloody gorgeous. He thought, admiring her beautiful golden hair and long, lovely neck. His eyes landed on her jaw as she swallowed the water and found it the most enticing thing he'd seen in ages. Without a word, Hook poured her another glass and simply watched as she greedily accepted and emptied it just as she had the first.
"Thirsty, love?" Was all he could say as he refilled her glass once more. She looked at him a bit sheepishly, her cheeks flushed as she remembered herself.
"I'm traveling. It's been a long walk and I couldn't find any fresh water." It wasn't exactly a lie, but it wasn't the truth either. But if this man was who she thought he was, she certainly didn't owe him more than that.
"I suppose you'll be hungry then as well," He said, snapping his fingers in the direction of the bartender without ever taking his eyes off the beautiful blonde woman sitting beside him.
"Oh, that's not-" She began to protest, but within seconds, a large bowl of warm and hearty soup was placed in front of her. The bartender's hands shook as he handed her the napkin and spoon. "Thank you," She said, looking down at the soup incredulously.
He really must be Captain Hook. She thought, remembering the tales her father had told over dinner in the Great Hall. Her mother had scolded him for sharing such stories in front of their young and impressionable daughter. This man seated beside her seemed to fit the bill. As charming and handsome as he was fierce and fiendish.
"Killian Jones, Captain of the Jolly Roger, at your service." He said, extending his hand toward her, the ghost of a smile playing about his lips.
Damn. She thinks, her heart beating a little faster as she takes a good look at him. All dark, disheveled hair and bright blue eyes, his boyish grin and handsome beard a maddening impossibility. Oddly enough, there's an air of unshakable confidence about him that reminds Emma of her favorite storybook heroes. And she ventures a guess that this is a man who will not be given the brush off.
So she trains her face to remain cool and indifferent as she tentatively places her hand in his, but knows she's failing when his smile spreads a little wider. He's reading her like a book.
Careful, Emma. She thinks, internally scolding her foolish heart for betraying her so quickly.
"Emma," She says slowly, her mind scrambling for a surname as he lowers his head to place a maddeningly tender kiss on her hand, his eyes never leaving hers. "Swan," She adds, a childhood pet name popping into her head.
"Emma," He speaks her name with reverence, pausing as his impossibly blue eyes continue boring into hers. "Swan," He finishes with a smirk, as if he knows it's a lie. "What brings you to this deplorable place?
He was so… cordial. His warmth effectively disarming her. The words seemed to roll off his tongue like a pleasant melody. She couldn't quite place his accent, but that didn't hinder her ability to enjoy it.
"I told you. I'm traveling," She replied, remembering to remove her hand from his as she turned to her soup. She wasn't going to tell him her secrets just because she found him attractive and enjoyed his company. She remembered the stories. This man could not be trusted.
"Aye," He replied, taking a sip of his drink, "We have that in common." He added.
"I see. And what brings you here, Captain?"
Two can play this game, Emma thinks, smirking as she takes another bite of the stew.
"Respite," He says simply, but his face darkens and he finishes his drink in one swift gulp. The barkeep scurries over to refill his glass, but Killian waves his hand dismissively and the little man behind the counter utters several apologies before turning his attention to other patrons.
"I have heard that plundering can be a rather tiring business," Emma teases. He raises an eyebrow at that, pressing his tongue into the side of his mouth in a way that Emma can only describe as unfair.
"Indeed, Miss Swan," He says with a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, "Would that my crew and I had been engaged in such delightfully exhausting frivolity," He sighs and spins the empty glass on the table, his eyes transfixed by the motion. "Alas that a quest much darker and far more dangerous has been our call for many months now."
Emma's curiosity was piqued. But Killian had clearly lost interest in their little flirtation.
"I do love a good pirate's tale," She admitted, astonished at her own eagerness to capture his attention once more, "My father used to tell me such stories of the great and terrible Captain Hook as to frighten me half to death."
"Aye?" He asked, a smile playing about his lips. She couldn't help but smirk at that.
Men and their pride. Such an obvious weakness. She thought, pleased that she'd ferreted out something undeniably true of his character.
His eyes locked with hers as he leaned forward, invading her space, leaning his arm on the bar in front of her and digging his hook into the back of the tall chair in which she was sitting, effectively trapping her in her seat.
"Have you ever heard tell of the Dark One?" He said, his voice low and rough. Emma's heart was beating at an alarming pace - though she couldn't tell whether it was due to the closeness of this handsome stranger or that he'd just whispered the name of her one and only enemy with a tone that mirrored the turmoil and hatred in her own heart.
"Yes," She breathed, her eyes wide as she searched his, absent-mindedly leaning even closer still.
"I could tell you such tales of him as would make your skin crawl," Killian said in a voice so soft and venomous that it set Emma ablaze with desperation to understand what could possibly connect the beautiful, dangerous man seated before her with the beast who'd slaughtered her whole family.
In a move so bold it surprised even Emma herself, she placed her hand firmly on his leg, just above his knee, and squeezed a little too hard.
"Tell me." The words sounded far more like a command than a request. And so they were.
She saw something flicker in Killian's bright blue eyes - what it was she couldn't tell, but it left her in such a state of exhilaration and fear that she knew she had to find out.
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A/N: Thoughts go in the little white box below. :)
