Chapter 4 – a new day has begun
There was something to say about living on a ship, even merely a week in her journey: the sea lulled her to sleep like nothing else in the world. Well, maybe just her father's voice reading her stories could compare.
Emma opened one eye, the light in the cabin soft and warm. They were sailing north-east, somewhere she'd never been. Well, she'd never been in many places, all those years on the run were spent either near Misthaven or in the werewolves' den, the farthest she'd gone was her aunt Ella's kingdom.
She buried herself under the blanket, knowing she had to dress up soon. Her stomach grumbled, and she grumbled back in response. With a sigh, she stood, tying her hair in a ponytail. Although she missed home, and at times even the beautiful gowns, Emma didn't mind being able of taking care of her hair or dressing up all by herself. Another thing she didn't mind was being able to let her hair down. Of course, her mother frowned upon her dirty clothes when she came back from sword training at most, not bothering with telling her she should dress like a lady or sit through hours of pampering to have perfect hair, but sometimes, especially when they had guests, Emma had to wear hairpins and let her maid bride or pull her hair tightly behind her head. That hurt.
She dressed slowly, trying to actually wake up first. The ship never slept, it – she – might be quiet but many were still awake. Of course they are, Emma thought, a ship couldn't steer herself, after all. Oh, well, she shouldn't be able to, at least.
Killian had told her about the Jolly being made of enchanted wood, but never about her powers or abilities. Emma felt the Jolly's magic, the quiet, familiar hum that echoed her own magic. One thing she knew for sure was that she couldn't control the ship. Actually, no one could, except for Killian, but it wasn't control either, it was more along the lines of respect, as if he gently asked the ship something and she replied. And though Emma wanted to understand their bond, she also found it very intimate, something solely between the Captain and his ship.
The bright light blinded her as she stepped foot on deck but she quickly adjusted to the sun. Her stomach grumbled again, especially after breathing in, under the salty smell she could sense coffee and bread. It wasn't a royal feast, the breakfasts she used to do as a child were just a distant memory and sometimes a longing, but she'd had worse, sometimes even nothing to sink her teeth into until many hours later.
«Morning, Captain,» Emma greeted Killian, who was standing against the railing tying knots, his brows lowered in concentration. He lifted his eyes on her, a smile spreading on his face when he took her in. Emma couldn't help but blush a little.
«Good morning, Swan,» he said in return and Emma couldn't help but feel her heart do somersaults in her chest. It ended up always like that when he called her Swan. «The coffee is especially good this morning, thanks to our last trip to Agrabah we have one of the best. Alas, bread and jam are always the same ones.»
«Hey, I like that jam,» Emma retorted, feigning irritation, a smile threatening to make its way on her mask where the blush on her cheeks still rested.
Cocking an eyebrow, Killian chuckled. «Don't I know it,» he mused shaking his head, «you and Smee are the only ones who actually eat marmalade, but he could eat everything.»
Emma shrugged. «It reminds me of the one Granny used to make for me at the castle,» she confessed, looking away towards the horizon where blue met blue, one lighter shade fading into the darker one. «Orange jam was my favourite, followed by peach and strawberries.» Emma closed her eyes, elbows on the wooden railing. «I always had hot chocolate for breakfast, mother always tried to get me to drink more tea and even coffee, but I always ended up having hot chocolate. I was a bit spoiled, I admit it, at least when it came to my favourite drink. Which, by the way, is my mother's too, she just wanted me to be more ladylike, I guess.»
«Or, perhaps,» he said, his voice so near and his breath brushing her cheek, «she didn't want you to become fat.»
Gasping, Emma opened her eyes and looked at him with her mouth agape. If she'd still been a princess, she would've been outraged and would've hit him with a fan. But they were in the middle of the ocean, and he was joking. «How dare you!» she breathed trying to hold back her laugh as she swatted him on the arm. Her mother would be shocked by her attitude.
Killian just laughed. «Think about it, sitting down all day doing whatever a princess does doesn't help your form.»
Mouth still hanging open, Emma placed her hands on her hips, lifting her chin. «I must inform you that I didn't use to sit down all day long. I might be a princess, but I am also good with a sword. And with a bow and arrows. And daggers. And magic.»
Once again, Killian feigned shock. «I'm impressed, you don't often hear about warrior princesses.» He was playing her, his playful smirk one she would've liked to slap off his face – or kiss.
Abruptly, Emma shook her head. No, she couldn't go there, not when she already found herself staring at him while he was otherwise occupied or, late at night, in her bed, where her mind ran free and she couldn't stop thinking about him at all.
«We can settle the matter with a duel.» Now every trace of playfulness had disappeared from his face at her words. «What, do I need to slap you with a glove? Give me thirty seconds and I'll be back with one of mine.»
Before she could turn around his hand found her wrist. «I was merely joking, Emma.» If her heart fluttered whenever he called her Swan, the rare times he called her with her name it did things she couldn't even name.
«I wasn't,» she confessed. While she didn't long for a duel, she still needed a proper training. Of course she knew the basis, but the rest she'd learned while on the run, watching other people fight and trying to save her own life more than once. Her magic helped her, at times, when she panicked and couldn't move at all, but not always. She was good, but sparring with Killian? That would've given her more experience.
Tilting his head, as if trying to search a lie in her eyes. Or was he searching fear? «Go have your marmalade, lass, then we can spar.»
There was a threat in there, she knew it, but not one that meant death, no, it was one that promised fun. With a nod, Emma ran towards the galley, where the cook, Cookson, whose brother was Black Murphy – it was so strange thinking about them as brothers since they were like night and day – had already arranged a plate for her with hot bread and orange jam, a mug of steamy coffee next to it.
«You're a man after my own heart, Cookson,» she sighed, sitting down on one of the long benches. Other members of the crew were digging into their more rich breakfasts, grunting greetings between mouthfuls.
«Ah, miss Swan, 'tis my belief that the only way to win a woman's or man's heart is through their stomachs,» the cook replied as he served another pirate a plate full of sausages. She'd once wondered – aloud – how they could manage so much food in their holds and he'd tell her it was a spell the Captain had bought from a trusted woman after he'd failed to keep their men on the right path and eat boiled mackerel and grapefruit juice. Both her and Killian couldn't quite deny the men's logic: with a richer… salary, they could afford to buy more food, and with the spell Killian had bought they wouldn't have to be afraid of scurvy anymore, or other diseases.
Besides, eating boiled fish every day would be a torture for her. «And here I thought it was liver for men,» she couldn't help but snort into her mug of coffee.
«That, too,» one of the pirates confirmed, «but someone capable of cook like Cookson here? That's someone I could die for.»
«Now, now, enough with the declarations of eternal love,» Cookson said, not uncomfortable at all, «you'll be needed on deck soon and the Captains doesn't allow lateness on his ship.»
The pirate snorted, a laugh escaping his lips. «You'd think he still is that old Lieutenant with a broom stuck up his arse.»
Now, that was interesting. She already had her suspicions about where the ship came from, but from how Killian cherished her he couldn't have just bought her or stolen her, the Jolly Roger was so much more for him than a loot. If he'd been a Lieutenant – probably in George's Navy – and had served on this ship, that meant he hated the man almost as much as she did. Probably. Well, to steal a ship and turn into a pirate he must have.
«Watch your mouth, Starkey,» another pirate hissed, «we might be pirates now, but we all were Navy men once, the fact that you were the only one whose flask of rum ended in the water doesn't change that.»
Other pirates laughed at the exchange, but Emma was frowning. So they aren't a crew formed by outlaws and assassins, she mused, biting down on the toasted bread with a cavity-worthy amount of orange jam.
Lost in her thought, she missed the rest of the conversation, but what she'd learned was enough. Even when on the run, Emma had never heard of some Navy man turning against George, let alone an entire crew of officers. Why, though? Why did those men turn against their own King? She didn't know much about how George treated his men, but being a naval officer, especially a high-ranked one as Killian had been, well, it wasn't something you wrinkled your nose in disgust at. Being a Navy man meant a good salary, food, many weeks away from home, but enough money to have one and maintain a family. And George's men seemed to be treated well, at least those she'd encountered.
No, it wasn't about the money, it was something else entirely. Was it something related to the brother Randall had insulted during their duel? But what, exactly? Had George killed him? That would explain Killian's hate, but the other men's? Unless they also knew his brother, but… was it enough? No, there was something else, a piece of the puzzle she was missing.
Shaking her head, Emma left those thoughts in a corner of her mind and finished her breakfast. She had a duel to attend, and as much as the idea thrilled her, it also scared her. Of course, she knew Killian wouldn't hurt her, that wasn't what she was afraid of, what scared her was that he could laugh at her rough thecnique. Emma remembered her father's, how his every movement was neat and precise; Lancelot's, a bit more forceful and lethal while hers was… weak and too direct. She didn't know much about strategy, she just knew that the pointed end went into the other person.
But, of course, Killian Jones was probably too much of a gentleman to laugh at her. Maybe he could even teach her something, pirate ways or whatever.
Killian was still tying knots, this time on the other side of the ship. The fact that he took care of some of the chores had stopped surprising her after three days on the Jolly. Added to the fact that apparently he'd been a Lieutenant, that made sense: he might still feel not completely a captain so he kept doing what he used to do before. And, maybe, that was his way to still have control over his life.
«You've taken your time, I see,» Killian commented without moving his eyes from the rope in his hands. He wasn't wearing the heavy leather coat nor one his usual vests, just a loose black shirt which he didn't seem to know how to button up. Emma gulped at the sight of his chest hair, something she never though she could ever find attractive in a man, yet here she was, wanting to explore here that hair led.
Gulping, she came back to herself. «Breakfast is the most important meal of the day,» she retorted, raising a golden eyebrow.
«Indeed it is, but you usually spend no more than half an hour with your orange marmalade, today you've been in the galley almost for fifty minutes,» he explained, finally looking up at her, amusement and curiosity in his eyes.
«Are you keeping track of how I spend my time?» Emma asked harshly. She didn't like people knowing where she was, it was a habit she'd picked up with time; mostly, she didn't want to be controlled.
Killian shook his head. «I need to know where all my men are, Swan. I could tell you who's sleeping in the crew's quarters or who kept you company in the galley, if you want.»
Oh, well, that was… logical. Probably. «Yeah, well, you promised me to spar, didn't you?» Emma replied, impatience creeping under her skin.
«That I did.» Tying the last knot – and no, Emma absolutely didn't notice how the black shirt clung to his biceps as he worked – Killian nodded towards the center of the deck. «This will help you when you're duelling on a ship, whether we get boarded or board another ship you'll have to know how to move on deck, how to use every part of the ship at your advantage.»
The way he said "advantage" made her shiver, goosebumps rising on her arms at the way his voice curved around each letter. She was in so much trouble. «You don't expect me to stay below deck, hidden in some secret room or something?»
That made him chuckle. «I know that if I asked you to, you wouldn't, so I won't waste my time,» Killian explained; it seemed he knew her too well for her liking, but she didn't correct him. It was true, she wouldn't hide, not even from other pirates.
With a movement she would classify as erotic, Killian unsheathed his sword – there just was a double meaning somewhere – and cocked an eyebrow at her, waiting.
Suddenly agitated, Emma did the same, the two swords different in many ways. They circled around, both of them waiting for the other to attack. Nobody moved, until Emma lunged forward when she saw him too relaxed. She had to know it was a ruse.
Killian parred without any effort, the blow reverberating through her arm. «Never attack first, Swan, unless you know your adversary's technique. Or if you know you're stronger and faster than him. You may be faster than I am, but I am stronger while my technique isn't quite fair, let put it this way.»
«Pirate,» Emma commented harshly. She sighed, knowing that he was teaching her something important, just her father and Lancelot had done. Killian definitely isn't father or Lance, she mused, coming back to reality quickly because, this time, Killian attacked first.
«And never lose focus.»
Cheeky bastard, Emma thought, barely parring his lunge. A whiff of his scent reached her nose, masculine but not aggressive. Gods.
Gathering her strengths, Emma pushed him away, lunging forward without losing her footing. That was the problem, mostly, but she was good at keeping balance. Her blow, however, was dodged, Killian stepping aside, the tip of his cutlass now pressed between her shoulder blades.
«I think we need to work on strategy first, Swan, I really wonder how you've been able to survive all these years.»
Red in shame, Emma turned to face him. «What I know was enough,» she spit through her teeth.
«What you know won't be enough out there, Emma.» Damned be him, damned be the way he says my name and damned be the concern shining in his eyes. Sighing, he bowed his head. «We can try again, if you want.»
Not waiting for her to attack, Killian surprised her, their sword clashing as she barely parred, his cutlass just a few inches from her face. Emma ducked, retreating her sword and trying a lunge of her own, this time coming closer to his body than she'd ever done before. She counted that as a small victory.
Killian pushed her away, his strength unmeasured against her: he wanted her to understand that in a fight her adversary wouldn't be gentle.
Gasping, Emma tripped backwards, falling on the raised part of the deck. Gritting her teeth, she hooked a foot around one of Killian's ankles and made him lose his balance, too. Unfortunately for her, he didn't fall on his arse like she had, but his chaotic tumble was worth it anyway.
«Nice try, Swan,» he complimented her, holding out his hand to her. «You'll need to learn some other tricks in the future, use what makes you stronger than the others.»
«If you mean my magic…»
«Not at all,» he corrected her, «I meant your agility, your brain. Don't be impulsive, love, be smart.»
Emma couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. «How come I've never been defeated during a duel before? I've dealt with George's men more than once before that night.»
At that, Killian tilted his head on the side, long locks of hair dangling in front of his blue eyes. «The real question is: did they wanted you dead?»
She was about to reply when, thinking about it, she had to admit none of them had actually wanted to kill her. George didn't want her dead, he threatened to kill her, but if he had to he'd do it in front of her father, no doubt.
«Then why the poisoned dagger?» Emma wondered with a frown.
«It could have been a way to threaten you… or to kill your friends. Without their protection, you wouldn't have had anywhere to go.» Killian's words hurt her more than the knife in her side had. He pressed his calloused hand against her cheek, caressing her soft skin with his ringed thumb. «If he wants you far from home he won't hurt them, and I'll be damned if I'll let him even set sight on you.»
Emma regaled him with a grateful yet sad smile, George's sick game was too much to bear at times, especially when she stopped to think about what she'd left behind. If she ever thought her death could spare her parents and friends, she would've handed herself to George and let him take her life, but that wouldn't do it, he needed her alive to continue the game and her family would be destroyed by her death.
«Come on, I'll teach you how to take a proper stance,» Killian said, cutlass back in its sheath, moving behind her.
Emma's breath itched when she felt his body warmth through her clothes, her treacherous mind wondering how he would feel without any clothes on. Focus, Emma, she reprimanded herself, she couldn't think about him like that, mostly because he didn't.
His hand travelled slowly down her right arm, his finger closing around her wrist as he taught her how to move. «Widen your stance, but never wider than your shoulders,» Killian breathed in her ear, and she resolved to conjure a very cold tub of water later.
Killian's body lingered for a moment against her back before he pulled back, leaving her with a sense of loss she shouldn't feel. «Tell me, if I attacked you like this,» he began, lunging forward, his cutlass a few inches from her waist, «how would you par?»
Rotating her wrist, Emma brought her sword down between her body and his cutlass. «Like this, though I wouldn't have enough strength to push you away. If I'm close enough to my adversary, I'd probably attempt to cut off his arm.»
Killian laughed, a warm and rich sound that warmed her up. «That's a good idea, but I think that if your adversary was this close to you, you'd be dead already. You can block the movement alright, but better yet, you could dodge it. Try and attack me like that.»
Following his orders, Emma lunged forward. Surprisingly fast, Killian stepped aside, turned halfway on the spot and brought his cutlass down onto her sword, which she let go and clanged onto the deck.
«That's… impressive,» Emma said with wide eyes. «Father never taught me anything like that, though I think Lance would have.»
«Forgive me if I'm wrong, Swan, but how old were you when you started your training? Surely you didn't start out with actual swords, and I think it mostly was a pastime.»
Emma grimaced. «I was pretty young and I thought – still think, to be honest – my father hung the moon, so I begged him to teach me to slay dragons as he had done. Only when I was seven he started training me, but it was still kind of a game, not like with Lance. But then I was twelve and George attacked us. We were on our way to the winter's palace when he attacked us. His men and Cora's heartless guards ambushed us and then George appeared, telling us he was finally able to get his revenge on my father. Cora made me disappear in her usual cloud of smoke and I ended up in my aunt Ella's kingdom. I asked for her help, and she helped me go back to Misthaven, only to find out that my grandmother's barrier had been covered up by another one created to hurt only me and my relatives: I couldn't enter the kingdom as much as my parents couldn't exit it. Only once I was able to bear the pain and enter the barrier, but as soon as I reached one of the underground tunnels, Cora appeared. She said she was impressed I could actually made it through the barrier but added that George had made a deal with her and I had to stay away. She sent me in the woods where I was found by Ruby, but when I came back to Misthaven another spell had been added to the barrier.» Tears were now running down her cheeks, her voice low and trembling as she breathed out the last words. «She had made sure I couldn't see the castle, nor whoever wandered near.»
She actually didn't know how she'd gone from telling him about her fencing lessons with her father to how her situation had started out.
Warm arms circled her small figure in an awkward hug due to them still having their sword in hand, but a hug nonetheless. With her free hand she clutched his shirt between her fingers, her head finding its place in the crook of his neck. For a moment, Emma wondered what the crew would think, but the truth was that she didn't care. It probably was the princess in her, but she didn't regret that hug. How could she? Killian was being her friend, something she never thought she could have outside Misthaven.
When you were royalty, having friends was… difficult to say the least. Growing up she'd never had a true friend, apart from Alexandra – whom she hadn't seen in years – and Roland. Ruby and Graham were another matter entirely, they were family.
Despite the three rings around them, Killian's fingers didn't pull her hair, weaving their way through the golden strands. «We will find a way, Emma, I promise you, even if we have to search all the existing realms and beyond.»
His promise scared her because it was so serious she almost believed they could find a way to dispose of George and Cora and bring down that damned barrier. «Sounds quite the adventure,» she tried to joke, denying the pull she felt at the word. She didn't know what would've happened if she'd stayed at the castle, if she'd been raised as a princess all her life, but that longing for adventures was now instilled inside her.
«Aye, that it does.»
Pulling away, Emma's cheeks were a deep red. She brushed away the tears with her hand and looked back at him. «Again?» she asked holding up her sword. «I promise I'll try to understand how to properly fight.»
Killian chuckled, a flicker of pride shining in his eyes. «You already know, you just need to pay attention, Swan.» With that, he attacked her, watching how swiftly she parred his blow. Emma wasn't stupid, she was just a bit rusty and her technique nothing he couldn't rectify. He was training her, much like he'd been when in the Navy.
When he'd been Silver's slave he knew how to swordfight, sure, but his blows were blind and more than once a blade had cut his skin because he didn't know how to properly par. Only when he'd joined the Navy he'd started to understand how strategy worked and how he had to study the weaknesses of his opponents before attacking. Every fight was won with brains, not with brute force. Unless your adversary was someone two times bigger than you. Even in those cases, though, intelligence wasn't to be underestimated.
They kept training until lunchtime, Killian giving her tips and adjusting her stance and hold, while the crewmen sometimes stopped what they were doing to watch them with amusement. None of them said anything, the Captain and Swan weren't the first ones to practice on deck, after all.
After a hearty meal consisting in smoked pork, Emma went back to her cabin, stinking with sweat and sore beyond belief. She almost couldn't feel her right arm anymore, and her back was wrecked, not to mention her legs; it was a miracle she was still able to stand, let alone walk.
Locking the door behind her – she kind of trusted the crew at this point, but she'd learnt to be extremely cautious; besides, they were still men and she wasn't comfortable with leaving the door open – Emma sighed, leaning back against the hard wood. Tiredly, she waved her hand and a tub full of hot, steamy water appeared in the center. Knowing Killian was in his cabin, too, Emma flicked her wrist once more, hearing a loud thump and a curse. She couldn't help but giggle.
She actually didn't know why she'd done that, probably because he'd been nice to her and she wanted to do something nice for him. And also because he'd told her a hot bath was something he didn't indulge very often when at sea despite him being a very clean person: he took great care of his own body, ablutions and all that, not a touch of dirt under his fingernails either, much like the rest of the men. It was a Navy thing, probably.
Living with the wolves had always kept her on edge, they could smell everything and that had pushed her to bathe more often than a child ever wanted to, but right now she counted it as a blessing.
Stripping of her clothes, she sat down in the tub, relaxing instantly. During lunch, Killian had told her they'd make port next week, something about cargo to sell and such. He'd told her they were returning from Agrabah and she was just dying to go there, or everywhere, really. She longed to see the world, and now she had the chance to.
Laughing, she'd suggested he was a merchant of sorts, at which he'd grumbled but didn't exactly correct her. In his defence, she knew that making deals and being owed favours was good for business, and piracy was a tad bit illegal one. For a moment, she wondered what her parents would say about this, and wondered if her own kingdom's laws would apply to her, too. Probably not, her parents would find a loophole of sorts, or bury the matter entirely.
Bubbles surrounded her and she magicked a glass vial of rose-scented oil. She'd noticed that when she was relaxed her magic was easier to control; with her mind free of any thoughts she could move the world, apparently. And therein lay the problem: how could she use her magic if, under pressure, she couldn't?
Sighing, she poured a bit of the oil into the tub, more bubbles forming on the water's surface. Emma leaned her head back onto the wooden edge, making the vial disappear in a cloud of white-grey smoke.
Reaching behind her head to free her hair, Emma let her blonde locks fall over her shoulders and into the water, creating golden fibres that sinuously moved underwater. At first, she kept her arms onto the edges of the tub, but the more she thought about her magic, the more she thought about the surge of power she'd felt when she'd thought Killian was going to die, and the more she thought about Killian, the more she thought about her morning, and the more she thought about her morning, the more she thought about how he probably was in her same position, in the tub, naked.
A moan escaped her lips. No, she couldn't deny it anymore, not even to herself – or maybe she could admit it only to herself: she was attracted to Killian. More than that, Emma had never felt that much attracted to someone.
There'd been boys she'd fancied, but her first thought was how to survive and how to go home. Now… now she didn't have to simply survive, as for how to go home, she trusted Killian's promise: they'd find a way. There was no rush to go back, and she felt guilty for that, but also not, because she was thrilled. And very, very aroused.
A vision of a sweaty Killian filled her mind, a memory of how his black shirt clung to his chest, his necklace swinging with his every movement, dark hair matted to his forehead and his eyes as bright as two stars. Under the sun his stubble assumed a ginger hue, which made it even more irresistible. And oh, the way it framed those perfect lips should've been illegal, as much as his rosy cheekbones.
Instinctively, one of her hand slipped underwater, fingers trailing lightly above her stomach, down, down until she brushed her clit, her breath hitching. She'd never actually touched herself so freely, always scared of wolf ears nearby. All she knew came from what Ruby had told her and actually heard and saw others do. She wasn't a voyeur, not at all, but… heat hit the wolves really hard, and sometimes living with them was like living in a brothel. Not that she ever had, but it was a good comparison.
Emma hissed, a jolt of pure pleasure breaking through her body as she moved her bundle of nerves in circle, imagining Killian's callous fingers on her soft skin as her other hand cupped one of her breasts. Biting her lips, she stifled a moan, afraid someone could hear her and that would be a catastrophe.
Feeling bold, she slipped her hand down towards her lower lips, her knees trembling. She was about to part her folds when a gust of cold wind filled the cabin. Emma bolted upright, turning towards the window. Of course it's fucking closed, she cursed. If she'd known more about what effects pleasure had on her magic, she would've thought it'd been her and cold wind wouldn't be something she wanted to conjure.
It hadn't been her, though, that much was clear once a figure appeared in front of her wide eyes. It wasn't exactly human, not in the flesh and bone way, but it was a human being. A woman. A ghost, Emma's mind supplied and her jaw was probably on the wet floor.
The woman seemed to have silver hair, but it probably was her… condition that made it appear so, big, sad eyes regarded Emma. She was wearing a light off-the-shoulders dress, her breasts and upper arms wrapped in what looked like vines and flowers but clearly part of her gown. A long sash around her hips was kept in place by a jewelled brooch as the silky skirt darkened the lower Emma looked, much like the sleeves, which left the ghost's arms bare from the elbows. On top of that, she wore a light cloak, the hood covered her hair and it all tied around her neck but still leaving her shoulders bare. Emma wondered if she was barefoot.
«W-who are you?» she croaked, eyes wide in panic. The woman tilted her head to the side. «Are you a ghost? Or am I dreaming? Maybe I was too exhausted and fell asleep in the tub and this is just a dream. It has to be.»
«Visions are seldom all they seem,» the woman spoke, interrupting her rambling. Emma stared at her, shocked. «You and I will meet again, Savior. But I must beg you: be fast. I don't know how long I will be able to resist her.»
Her mouth still agape, Emma couldn't say another word before the woman disappeared out of thin air, as if she'd never been there. The frigid water was the only thing that proved Emma she hadn't been dreaming: a woman had been in her cabin, the ghost of a woman – her spirit? Was there really a difference? – and she'd told her they would meet again, adding she was trying to resist someone. This didn't make any sense.
Sitting back into the now cold water, Emma heard once again the woman's voice. You and I will meet again, Savior. Why did she call her that? How did she find her? What did she want from her? Too many questions and no answer.
Another question arose inside her: should she tell Killian? Would he believe her? No, of course he would, there was no doubt about that. And she could trust him, her gut told her she could even if it scared her to death.
With a deep breath, she stood and stepped out of the tub, wrapping a soft robe around her, hoping it could banish the coldness the ghost had left behind along with the dreadful feeling of an incoming storm.
Hello, it's me! Notes at the end this time because I didn't want to spoil anything. First of all, thank you for the comments, favourites, kudos, follows and all that, I'm so happy to share my stories with you and the fact that you like them makes me utterly glad.
Second, there's a bit of naughtiness in this chapter, nothing extreme, but this is just the beginning. I don't think there will be sex in every chapter - maybe in the distant future - but for now there's mostly unresolved sexual tension and... a bit of satisfaction.
Third, and here I hope you won't be mad, I had Emma being not that good with the sword. In the previous chapter I said she was, but because she thought so, because she'd survived all those years on the run, but she lacked technique. I did this because I wasn't sure of how much she could've learned in such a short time at the palace, so I went for the "canon" way: when she fights Killian at Lake Nostos, Emma pretty much doesn't know how to wield a sword, and there's no way she could beat a 300 years old pirate who'd been in the Royal Navy, unless he'd let her win. This way I don't want to diminish Emma's abilities, not at all, all I wanted to do was show how naive she's been thinking she could actually best Killian or someone fighting for real.
Fourth, we now enter the first adventure, and I gave away who the woman was ;) I also put a not so subtle "nod" to a character I love and, well, I don't think we'll see her, not for a very loooong time.
Thank you so much again - and for those who read Made Of Stars, I hope I'll be able to update soon, I really do.
Until next time!
