A/N: Thank you to everyone who reads, comments and follows this story. It means a lot to me, more than you could possibly know. That being said, I've felt rather inspired this week so here is chapter 4. Enjoy!

Part 4

Emma feels a little groggy when she comes to; the first sensation she's aware of is the bed - it's by no means uncomfortable, but the mattress is hard, whereas hers is soft. Also, the sheets feel differently. Her brain tries to warn her that something is wrong, but she can't seem to find the strength to open her eyes just yet.

As the seconds go by, she becomes aware of other things. There's a mild lulling to the bed - it makes her think that maybe she's still dreaming and she's a baby, laid down in a cradle moving gently and lulling her to sleep. Emma tries to follow this train of thought, she feels it might be important, but it slips away from her.

When she becomes conscious again (she must have drifted off for a while), it's to the howling of a wolf.

That's odd, Emma thinks. The royal castle may be flanked by the sea on one side, and the forest on the other, but wolfs never come so close. At least not so close as to actually be able to hear them from her chambers as if they were in the other room.

The howl dies, but the lulling of the bed continues. She tries to turn on her side, when her right hand hits something hard. The pain shoots up her arm and it's something that finally gets her to open her eyes.

Everything is dark for several seconds; too dark. But then her eyes grow adjusted to the lack of light and she becomes aware that she's not in her rooms. What her addled brain had tried to explain away as dreams or inconsistencies that were not worrisome enough to warrant waking up, had proven fact.

She's on a ship; that much is clear. The room she's in is small, with only the bare necessities in it. She can't see much, but there's a table in front of her, by the windows. These as large as a ship this size can afford and there's an assortment of books on the windowsill. After taking in the neat row of tomes, her eyes land on the view outside. If she had had any doubts before, it's clear now she's on a ship somewhere in the middle of the ocean. It's also clear to her it's an hour or so after midnight. Two years of spending her "days" during the nights have taught her to tell time by the movement of the stars and moon. Whoever has kidnapped her in bird form, by now has put several hours' worth of miles between them and her parents' forces.

But who could possibly know that by stealing a hawk, they would be stealing a princess? And why would they do it? For ransom? The thought makes her snort.

Her kingdom's not that rich and while her mother had had a considerable fortune when she had married her father, they had spent most of it in recent years. A series of harsh winters and hot, dry summers had left her kingdom without much produce, so her parents had done the best they could to prevent widespread famine. She had never minded the diminishing of the royal treasury, her inheritance after all, but it made all this very confusing. Pirates, for they must be pirates to do something like this, would crave gold and she had none – a well-known fact among the royal families.

While further perusing the contents of the room, Emma's eyes land on the desk she had dismissed earlier. It's clean, like everything else, and empty, save for a gown in the middle of the desk, folded neatly. The material feels soft to her hands, although the cut is simple. It's similar though to what the maids at home wear, so it must be from her kingdom. There's nothing else she can put on, nothing in sight anyway, so she dons the garment quickly.

Despite everything, Emma can't help but feel a little grateful - whoever has done this, has had the foresight to provide clothes for her. And while she loathes the idea of being on a pirate ship, facing her kidnappers naked is not something she would have wanted to go through.

Once clothed, her eyes drift again to the desk - there's a note on it. It must have been under her dress, because she hadn't noticed it before. She picks up the paper and traces a finger over the curious looking seal on it. While very similar to her kingdom's, there are enough differences to make it something else. She hasn't seen it before though, and she's had to learn the seals of all the neighboring kingdoms and several further away.

It's just another piece of the puzzle, Emma thinks. She wants to know more, so she opens the letter.

"Welcome, Your Highness. You are a guest aboard my ship, the Jolly Roger. Myself and my crew are at your disposal for as long as you'll be with us. I am sorry about the circumstances that brought you to us, but I believe we need each other. My first mate, Peter Jamison, will explain everything you wish to know. In the meantime, I have prepared a few things for you (I'm sure you've already found the dress) and Henry, my cabin boy, will help you with anything else. He's waiting outside the door, ready to bring you a hot meal if you so wish it. Just ask. - Sincerely, Killian Jones"

The penmanship and the tone of the letter is so incongruous and so discordant with the image of a ruthless pirate, Emma can't help but burst into laughter. She stops almost instantly, a hand over her mouth, hoping no one heard her.

There's a knock on the door soon after, so there goes that hope. She thinks of ignoring it at first, but the knock comes again.

"Milady, are you awake? The captain asked me to look after you …please?"

The voice is that of a young boy - probably Henry, the cabin boy mentioned in the letter. He sounds so innocent, she doesn't have it in her to ignore him and expose him to the possible wrath of his captain. So Emma takes the few steps to the door and slowly opens it to the wide-eyed face of a teenager.

"I know you. You work at the castle", she says quietly, recognizing the face of the boy Granny had taken in a few weeks before. She had seen him from afar having fun with the guards one last night and his infectious laughter had made her notice him.

The boy looks down, guilt written all over his stance; after a few seconds, he raises his head and looks at her pointedly. "To be fair, milady, I've always worked for Captain Jones."

There's a bit of defiance, but also pride, in his voice as he makes his allegiance known. She levels him with a hard stare, one meant to intimidate. "Yes, about that, where is this mysterious captain of yours?"

The boy, Henry, she remembers is his name, swallows twice before gathering his courage again. "You should talk to master Jamison. I'll fetch him."

He moves to leave, but Emma stops him. "You will do no such thing!" Her tone is so commanding, every bit the royal she was raised to be, and the boy freezes. "You will be the one to tell me what I need to know", Emma continues. At least in this, she wants some control. And she can read the boy; Emma doubts she could do the same with a seasoned pirate.

Henry swallows again, "But the Captain said…"

Growing a bit impatient, Emma cuts him off: "Your captain also said you're to be at my command. And I want you to tell me why he would think we need each other."

For a few moments, Henry is unsure how to proceed. He's aware of the captain's orders and the Princess is right - he is supposed to do her bidding. But he's not sure his captain would approve of this.

The wolf howls again, and the princess frowns. Henry jerks out of his reverie and decides that maybe his captain will not be too upset with him. After all, the Princess is meant to learn about the curse.

Decision made, Henry levels her with a determined stare while he delivers the answer: "The wolf you hear …that's my captain."

Emma jolts in shock, the boy's words definitely not what she had expected. Her mind is suddenly too full of thoughts, each fighting for dominance, and she barely makes out the rest of Henry's explanation.

"He is cursed milady, like you are, and you're the only one that can help save him", the boy says passionately. "I know pirates are not good people, but that's not who Captain Jones is. He rescued me from slavery and he's been nothing but kind to me. Him and the crew. The Jolly Roger is my home and I beg of you milady, if you can help lift the curse off my captain, please do it. I know I don't have money, but I'll repay you with anything you want", the boy cries by the end, hot tears streaming down his face.

Emma stares at him in awe, in all her years having barely witnessed such devotion in her people. And to see it displayed towards a pirate is disconcerting, to say the least. Henry seems like a good boy, but she supposes that's the problem. He's still a boy, so he might easily be persuaded by someone cunning enough, to believe the opposite.

Too confused to be able to process anything else, Emma turns her back to the boy and takes a few steps inside the room. "Thank you, Henry. That will be all."

"Milady…"

"Please", Emma turns towards him, voice soft and shy, sounding just a little bit defeated.

It's now that Henry notices how pale she has become. He tries to make a move towards the princess, but then thinks better of it and leaves quietly.

Some time later, Emma isn't sure how much, there's another knock on the door. Her gaze moves from the water to the door (when had she sat down and started staring at the ocean), but doesn't move to open it.

"Milady, please open the door", a new, male voice says. "It's Peter Jamison, ma'am. The captain has instructed me to explain everything."

As confused as she feels right now, Emma knows she doesn't want to talk to anyone else at the moment. She's still groggy from the drugs they gave her alter-ego and what the boy has revealed has left her in turmoil. She needs time to think. "I've heard everything I've needed to hear for now, Mr. Jamison", she says loud enough for him to hear her.

Her voice is by no means convincing, if the man's reply is anything to go by. "Your Highness, I need to tell you what my captain has instructed me to".

He sounds rather desperate, but Emma is suddenly bone tired and doesn't want to hear anything else about this captain everyone is so afraid to cross. She needs to think and decide what to do next. "I do not want to be disturbed, Mr. Jamison. Henry told me enough!"

Her attempt at firmness sounds shallow even to her own ears; the man behind the door doesn't say anything for a while, but then heavy footsteps heading away from the door signal his departure.

Finally alone, Emma breathes out a sigh. Her hands are shaky in her lap and her eyes round. A tear streams down her face and she finally voices the thoughts that have been going through her mind, on and on, since Henry's confession: It's my fault. This is all my fault.