Hi!
Thank you for reading (and coming back after the ridiculously long wait). A question in the reviews that I wanted to clarify, cause it's pretty relevant - Emma has aged physically in the ten years she's been "lost". I tried to work into the dialogue, but it isn't too romantic to have Hook say she looks old, so I took the easy way out :)
And yes, I'm emotionally devastated by that season finale.
Any comments/feedback/button clicking makes my day! x
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The first day he met her, Killian could've sworn her eyes were a cornflower blue.
It had been all the men had talked about for weeks - the excitement of the Royal Family seeing fit to visit their ship out of the entire fleet. What set tongues wagging most, however, was the rumoured beauty of the Swan Princess who was as yet to be betrothed. He'd never understood her moniker - one deckhand stated that she'd been born under the cygnus constellation, and that's all that was ever said on the matter. Liam had done his best to silence the sailors loud laughs and wild speculations - each dreaming the Princess would descend from on high and select him as the man of her dreams. His brother was one hell of a Captain, but despite this, the days before the visit the crew had never been giddier.
Killian was determined to keep the men in line. That was his focus; to be the best Liutenant he could to his Captain. He'd prepared himself for pretty blue eyes and blonde curls, nothing more. He rubbed an invisible speck of dust from his white breeches as the Royal carriage came into view.
The King and Queen had led the way, and she'd skipped down the gangplank with all the graces of her mother, hopping onto The Jewel of the Realm with her fathers gusto. Liam, ever the upright Captain, held her hand and helped her down the steps. The sun was bright, glinting across her golden hair. It lay in curls, pinned to the nape of her neck and cascading down her back. Her wide eyes darted in every direction, keen to drink up all the sights and sounds, cupping her hand over her brow as her stylish - yet slightly impractical - bonnet slanted across her face, failed to protect her eyes from the blinding sunshine. Her gown was a light silk, the golden buttercups bright against the cream backdrop.
Killian stood at the head of his men, watching as the Royal Family made their way across the deck, Liam ushering them along as he pointed out various sights, regaling them of tales of life at sea. He was supposed to be watching his men closely, supposed to be watching the progress of his Captain, but he was captivated by her. She stopped every so often, a delicately gloved hand reaching to touch the mast, or a piece of (what he'd always considered) average rigging. Not to the Princess. She looked at everything with wide eyed curiosity, a captivating smile brightening her features. He watched as her slender neck curved, eyes pointing directly above her, watching her family crest blowing gently in the wind. He watched as a curl caught in the wind, gently whipping across her shoulder and dancing along her neck, skimming along her clavicle. His mouth ran dry, imagining tracing a similar path with his lips...
No sooner had his treasonous thoughts descended into the gutter, he was face to face with the Queen. She was watching him curoiusly, her eyebrows raised in patient expectation. His cheeks burned as he swept into a low bow, hoping somehow she could not read his innapprorpiate mind. He repeated his bow towards the King, who nodded in polite return, continuing to murmur lowly to Liam.
He heard a gentle rustling to his left, his eyes trailing slowly around to see the Princess. She stood by him, and he could've sworn she was sparkling brighter than the sun. She seemed like a buzz of nervous energy and excitement, a hurricane of buttercups and ivory in front of his eyes.
He took a steadying breath, his mouth like sawdust and his palms postively damp. Before he could begin his descent into yet another bow, her hand was in his face, and all he could do was stare dumbly at her. Her fingers were curved, the back of her hand raised to him in expectation. The raise of her eyebrows was so uncannily like her mothers, not two minutes before, that he had to check and make sure she was actually by her husbands side, pointing out to sea at some gull.
His strong fingers curled around hers, her ivory glove felt like silk against the blisters and callouses that adorned his well worked hands. He didn't not know if it he imagined it, probably simply sheer will on his part, but he could've sworn her breath became ragged as his lips touched her hand. It was wonderful and yet not enough; the barrier of her glove cut far deeper than it should, representing far more than he'd care to admit in that moment.
The sun hid behind a cloud and he realised his first impressions were wrong, oh so wrong. He was foolish to believe her eyes were cornflower blue; they were green, and every colour in between. The brightness of grass in the morning light; the golden amber of honey; the burnt warmth of autumnal leaves; the jade of a wave as it crests. He could've spent hours staring at her, but no sooner had he realised his mistake she'd gone, trailing slowly behind her parents. He watched her intently, but she never turned to look at him. Not once.
Visits by the Royal family became something of a common occurrence. Rumours circulated rather quickly, the whispers of the townsfolk like mosiquitos buzzing around Killian. They hummed and then they bit: it seemed the Navy was part of a dowry, a bargaining chip to secure the marriage between the Princess and Prince Neal, of the Cassian Isles. Each time a Naval excercise was put on, a gala to show the skill and determination of the crew, his heart ached. His skill and his ship was ensuring that the beauty, his sunbeam was married off, to a Kingdom far way.
On her seventeenth birthday, the high ranking officers were invited to attend the birthday celebrations. For some reason, Liam had seen fit to good naturedly tease him on the day, quite often demanding he kiss his hand. Killian blushed furiously, pulling at his ear in distraction and rushing away at the first opportunity, his mind replaying the feel of her glove against his lips.
The Great Hall was lavishly decorated, candles and white freesias and yellow buttercups adorning every surface. His uniform felt inexplicably tight, the starch of his collar chafing painfully against his neck. He pulled at it in agitation, watching the various Lord's and Lady's mingling.
"Calm down Killian" Liam quietly urged, readjusting his Captain's hat under the crook of his arm.
A few steadying breaths did little to appease his heart when she appeared, flanked by her mother and father. Her golden curls were pinned to the nape of her neck, her creamy white skin contrasted beautifully with the deep crimson gown that clung to her, her full skirt rippling around her like water.
Her father danced with her first, the pride evident in his shining eyes. He waited, patiently waiting for Prince Neal to appear, whisk her away for a romantic waltz and shatter his heart. However, that moment never came. She danced with various Princes and Lords, and Killian found a partner in rum. He had always frowned at sailors penchant for the tipple, but the warm liquid seemed to fill the void in his chest that grew every time he saw her tiara glinting, her servants scurrying to serve her every whim. A million miles from his lowly position.
A new emotion gripped him - a burning in the pit of his stomach, that traced a path to his entire chest, both tightly pressing down and wanting to burst out. His jaw burned from clenching, but he was motionless, rooted to the spot as he watched his brother dancing with her. His hand on her waist, his hand touching hers, her hand on his shoulder, his whispered jokes making her smile and her eyes shine.
He had to leave.
The cool night air quelled some of his anger, but burning pain continued to sit at the base of his stomach, swirling and jolting him. It was bad enough that he knew he couldn't even look at her without pain lancing his chest, but to watch her delicate frame swamped by his brother? No sooner had the thought entered his head he felt sick, the nights libations burning his throat as he retched in the grass.
Like the piss poor pathetic sailor he was.
The next few days Liam eyed him cautiously, Killian's morose state plain for all to see. It was nothing to do with his humiliating puppy dog behaviour at the ball and everything to do with his shame at valuing anything above his brother.
Months later, Killian confessed as much to his Captain, as they'd both enjoyed far too much merriment one night. Liam had laughed, his bright blue eyes shining as he'd slapped Killian's shoulder, the affectionate action jarring the younger man's entire body, "Don't apologise for caring for her as deeply as you do"
He'd never apologised for it, but he never regretted anything more in his life the day his Princess ran away.
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His hook ran along the other man's neck, the tip creating an angry red line in its wake. He adjusted the pressure slightly, a droplet of blood leaking from the puncture, "I'll repeat the instruction, just in case it wasn't clear the first time, mate. Give me the blanket"
The man's muddy brown eyes widened, "But, what about me?"
Renewing his grip on the man's shirt, Killian leant even more of his weight against him, the bark of the tree crackling behind his victims back, "You mistake me for someone who cares. Give me the fucking blanket or I'll tear out each one of your organs and you can use them to keep you warm"
He gasped, eyes darting to the ground, "It's there, take it, just take it"
Killian bent, grasping the moss green blanket, adding it to the pile of firewood, "Thank you for your cooperation"
The man scurried away as Killian snorted. Blackbeard had a knack of employing some of the weakest, yellow bellied pirates to hoist a sail. He traipsed through the thick foliage, reluctantly stepping into the clearing.
The dancing flames cast long shadows across an already treacherous island. The Lost Boys were huddled in a large group, surrounding a bonfire, appearing to eat some sort of... cake? Blackbeards men were in smaller dribs and drabs, eating pitiful scraps of bread and cured meats.
Henry and Emma were seated next to a smaller, separate crackling fire. Henry had a coconut in his hands, attempting to crack the hard shell with a substantial rock, determination etched across his features. His efforts, thought valiant, were fairly futile. Emma's eyes were shining as she watched, biting her lip in an attempt to mask her silent laughter.
He'd been determined to stay away from her - sending Smee back with the first batch of firewood, instructing him to build up the fire, sending him like a little messenger boy with all the fruits he could muster. Obviously, his first mate was positively thrilled by his new tasks.
His first instinct was to protect her, the sight of the scales slipping from her body producing that all too familiar burn in his chest. He ached, the feeling growing hotter as the lecherous eyes around him focussed on her with more force than before, and it was a choice between her and ripping each and every one of them down the middle with his hook. It was instinct to wrap his shirt around her, but the small puffs of her breath dancing along his jaw tightened his stomach in ways he didn't want to comprehend.
He ignored every twist and pull of his heart as she shakily rose to her feet, her lack of coordination and ability a slap in the face compared to the energy and grace he'd seen her exert all those years before. Back when he knew her. When she was a girl and he was a different boy.
His arms snaked around her, his chest puffing slightly with pride as she rested against him. She needed his support, and he was oh so glad to give it. They were closer than they'd ever been. The melancholy at the thought she didn't even know him was solely reserved for the little Liutenant who's heart broke on the morning of her eighteenth birthday. He was Captain Hook now, and she was nothing more than a mermaid. She had to be nothing more than a mermaid.
His dark shirt swamped her frame, and she'd used it to her advantage. She tucked her long legs beneath her, the dark fabric falling far enough so no skin was on display. Her shoulders were hunched, huddled into herself, her arms holding the gaping 'v' of his shirt closed. Her golden locks lay in soft curls, tumbling down her back like the day he met her.
Hook started towards his group, depositing more logs on their pile and tossing the borrowed blanket at Henry. The boy beamed, the long sleeves of the leather coat rendering his hands to nothing more than long sheets of material as he dropped the coconut and stone.
Emma barely spared him a glance as he settled on the mossy log beside her, her her eyes never leaving the flames in front of her. Her arms seemed to relax, her rigid posture smoothing as she reached for one of the cocunuts as she and Henry set back to work.
Her lack of attention was a relief. Pan didn't need to start questioning how a mermaid knew of a young Lieutenant, and Hook didn't want to delve into the past. It was best kept where it was.
When the sun was setting, the blistering Neverland heat evaporated into a distinctly chillier breeze. Grateful for the warmth the fire provided, Hook pulled his earlier discarded waistcoat across his bare shoulders, his clammy skin sticky against the material.
Henry sighed loudly, blowing his damp fringe from his forehead, his coconut distinctly whole. Hook snatched the fruit from the boy, piercing the top with his hook. Henry's grin was practically splitting his face as he took the fruit back.
Emma held out hers, never meeting Hook's eyes, staring intently at the chain in the centre of his chest. He cut into the hard shell silently, but soft stroke of Emma's fingers as he passed it back jolted him, "You're freezing, love"
She bit her lip, "The water's tropical round here"
Henry had already removed his borrowed coat, throwing it over Emma's shoulders. "Thanks kid" she smiled, pushing her arms into the sleeves as Henry cocooned himself into his new blanket.
Hook paused, helplessly wrapping his arm round her and rubbing along her bicep quickly. She immediately relaxed into him, drinking the fruit, staring at the flames once again. Her cheeks had turned to a rosy pink so Hook, pleased his efforts, unwound himself from her and picked up his own dinner.
Smee pottered over, his mouth full of cake as he flopped to the ground near the log. He too had acquired a blanket, though Hook expected it was through different means; his first mate liked to steal items away and hope and pray his Captain would back him in a fight. He raised an eyebrow but remained silent.
They remained that way for a little longer - Henry chattered on as he always did, Smee dozed gently, Hook scratched aimless drawings into the log and Emma stayed huddled into the coat, her nose resting in the inside of the collar as she nodded along with Henry's tales.
Suddenly, every fire in the camp was extinguished. Hook's spine snapped straight as Pan appeared on the largest boulder, at the edge of the clearing his grin wide, "Time for bed, boys and girl. We've got a big day ahead of us"
The control of their leader was strong; the lost boys seemed to drop where they sat. Blackbeard's pirates were less obedient, whispering animatedly and once again gesturing to the sole woman by his side.
Before Emma could pull the dagger from her sleeve, Hook lowered himself onto the the moss and reached for her, "Ignore the bastards and get some sleep"
She paused, eyes skimming the dark campsite, "I'm right here" Hook reassured, "Stay by me and you'll be fine"
Emma's features fixed, her decision made. She propelled herself forward, and Hook cringed as she simply slipped forward with a loud "oof", silently cursing her that she didn't let him help her. There was at least a metre between them, and he thought nothing of wrapping his hand around her and pulling her towards him.
She immediately stiffened and a smile quirked his lips, "Safety in numbers, sweetheart. I only have honourable intentions"
She relaxed as they lay side by side, shoulders brushing. She began to shift beside him, wiggling from side to side. He sighed loudly, ready to ask what the hell she was doing, when a weight landed on his chest. He raised an eyebrow at her as she manouvered his coat, spreading it across them both like a blanket.
She rolled to the side, the entirety of her soft curves pressing against the side of his body as she curled an arm under her head and stared at him. He lay on his back, his head turned as he continued to stare at her, her breath softly fanning across his face. His intentions were honourable, but his thoughts were less pure as he stared at her beauty. He'd kept his focus on the terrain earlier, knowing all too well how bloody surprising Neverland could be. Now she was as close as before, and he couldn't help but let his concentration lapse. Her lips were rosier than he remembered, her nerves clearly prompting her to bite at them in agitation. A few freckles dotted the bridge of her nose, and he absentmindedly wondered if they'd always been there. The eyes he had dreamed of for years stared at him, her lids slowly and consistently blinking, sleep trying to claim her.
He turned to the sky, staring as the bruising purple bled into inky blue. The fireflies buzzed above their heads, the full moon brightening the dark sky. "What happened to us?" Her voice was so quiet, he thought he might've imagined it.
He closed his eyes, sighing "I've not got a fucking clue"
