A/N - Unlike the other "interludes" - this one isn't smutty. Just a bit of reflection from Killian's POV that was written for a Tumblr prompt.
as a sailor loves the sea
He had never expected to fall in love with the sea.
It was a slow romance, a gradual courtship of gentle waves that rocked him to sleep at night while his belly ached from hunger and his feet stuck out from the other end of the too-small blanket, bare and numb with cold. His mother's voice was naught but a distant memory that faded a little more with each passing day, but her eyes had been as blue as the ocean at high noon and he would pause for a moment with the scrub brush clutched in his hand or the rope twisted between his palms and look out over the water, remembering the time when he had been warm and safe and loved.
Liam made them fishhooks, bending bits of wire in the light from the lamp with his curly head bent to his task and his tongue poking out from between his teeth. The other, older sailors would sometimes take their catch, laughing and jeering at the two of them while the rotten bastard of a captain smirked and shrugged, turning his back and pretending not to see. But the cook was a kindly man who also turned a blind eye when they smuggled a brace of perch or cod into the galley and dried it over the fire.
"A feast fit for a king!" his brother proclaims, when they sit and eat the bounty given to them by the sea, cutting off pieces for the both of them with his knife and smiling through the whiskers that have started to sprout on his cheeks and chin. Liam is the one who apprentices them to every crewman who will have them, bartering away their rare moments of leisure to learn navigation, sail-making, gunnery and whatever else he could charm and wheedle his way into. They'll have a ship of their own one day, a promise made with all the fierceness a boy who became a man too soon can muster, they'll sail uncharted realms and swim with mermaids and taste freedom as easily as the salt on their tongues.
And they do, for a while. Glory for the Jones brothers.
They day he buries Liam beneath the waves is a blur of pain and rage and regret, he'd tried so hard to follow in the footsteps of the only one left in the world who loved him, to be as good and as honourable of a man, to be a sailor who could steer them through the storm and bring them safely home. But home was gone, had been gone the moment Father abandoned them to the mercy of the sea and the care of uncaring men, there was nothing left but the wood under his feet and the rocking of the ocean, lulling him to sleep at last with the salt of his tears still fresh on his cheeks and the taste of rum on his tongue.
Naval blue was exchanged for black leather, a royal standard for a pirate flag, flown high and proud on the mast for all and sundry to see. A free man at last, beholden to no master save the wind and bound to nothing but the movement of the tides. He sailed through blood-red sunsets and schools of jellyfish a hundred leagues wide, he visited strange lands of exotic women and fabulous wealth, he saw the stars themselves move across the heavens and heard the oddly beautiful song of the whales.
Emma shifted against him, her head resting on his shoulder and her fingers playing gently with the rings on his hand. The bold, brazen princess had climbed the rigging as nimbly as any cabin boy and joined him where he sat on the yardarm, watching the point where the sea met sky long after the sun set and the moon rose overhead. He legs were draped across his lap, bare feet peeking out from under her skirt and propped against the smooth, worn wood. They sat in silence, not because he had nothing to say but because he had too much, an ocean of words to share with the woman who had stepped on his ship and capsized his life as easily as any tidal wave, stripping him of every last defense in the process until he was as vulnerable and exposed as if he'd been washed up naked on a deserted isle.
"How big do you think it is?"
"Hmm?" he said, one hand wrapped around her and his thumb rubbing slow circles against the curve of her hip.
"The ocean," Emma murmured, "How big is it?"
Dark water surrounded them as far as the eye could see, the four points on his compass stretched on seemingly forever as the Jolly softly bobbed on the waves.
A chuckle escaped from between his lips, "Larger than any one man can measure, I'd wager."
"Will you show me?"
Her voice was soft and drowsy, golden hair tickling his cheek as she tucked her head under his chin and rested her fingers on his thigh, "Will you show me, Killian?"
"Aye, love. I'll show you."
He had never expected to fall in love with her, but as the sun appeared in the east and the dawn broke over them in a shower of pink and gold he held her close and let the sea rock her to sleep, safe and warm in his arms.