DISCLAIMER: I don't own OUAT
I'm beyond pleased with your answer to this fiction and I'm so happy you're enjoying it so far. I hope you like Emma/Killian, the next chapters will of course explain more of Hook's past and his personality, though you got a pretty good picture of him in the last chapter, the next ones will, I promise, please you just as much. Don't hesitate to send me MP or ask questions, I always appreciate your reviews, and criticism is always welcomed when constructed. I have a big plan for this fic and seeing how some of you are into it makes me truly happy!
Love,
Adri
Chapter Seven
Setting Foot on Land
Her body was weak; she felt like she was looking at herself, a little bit like in a dream. It was hard to move, hard to put herself together. Emma tried to assess her surroundings, to understand where she was lying – the sheets were warm, but they felt foreign – she knew she was not in her own bed. Then she felt and took into the rocking of the ship. The Jolly Roger. Right. But it was not her own cabin either-
Then it hit her. Hard. Like a slap.
Graham.
So cold.
He was dead and no matter how she clenched the sheet to her chest she felt white bright cold, her body not hers, as if it hadn't accepted the terrible truth, as if it were trying to get back to him.
"Good morning, Swan." A husky voice that belonged to Hook came from the desk – she hadn't spotted it until now and felt quite ridiculous for noticing him only now. Even though she was not bare to his eyes, thank God she wasn't, she had been stripped from her boots and the first layer of clothes – mostly her cloak and the jacket that kept her warm and blocked the wind from freezing her. Yet, with his eyes scanning her face, she felt vulnerable and it didn't help that he had witnessed her breaking down yesterday. She went as far as blushing, to her bosom even, when she remembered how he had carried her and cradled her against his chest.
Her body missed that heat he had shared with her. But mostly she missed feeling alive – and now that her head wasn't so foggy, she remembered how alive he had felt.
Part of her was ashamed.
How could she meet the eyes of the man who had seen her weak, so vulnerable, and witnessed a fragility that her pride could not allow?
Her pride was harmed.
Her heart was mourning the friend who had loved her too much and had been driven to the grave for her. By her hand even.
Her hands held the silky material of the sheet more tightly, and she tried to fight back salty tears threatening to be shed, only her pride, wrapped around her like a flag managed to push them away. Hook leered at her before he tried to fake focus on whatever was on his desk. "You need to change clothes and probably clean yourself." He asserted.
"Are you implying I'm smelly?" Emma couldn't help but snap, glaring at him sharply.
He laughed to her frustrated expression, throwing on the desk dices she hadn't noticed he was holding. "You are lovely, Swan, I'm just thinking that you may be wanting to bathe after our friend's death." He was back to serious, no laughter, his eyes carefully examining her, as if looking for injuries.
Her brows knitted together, Emma tried to talk with an even voice, "A bath would be nice." She nodded, before adding, "Thank you."
"I will have you brought a bathtub and leave you to it; you can stay here until you feel better."
He stood up and walked to the door, gathering his coat in his arms and putting it on. It was an intriguing thing to watch, he seemed smaller - not less impressive and ready to kill but less Captain-like, more accessible.
Or maybe it was the fact they had shared something last night – she blushed at the memory, hating herself for doing so. She wasn't a person who was capable of displaying her feelings; her whole life passed at the side of a half-dead half-alive mother hadn't helped. Last night had been terrible for many reasons but it was scaring her the way she had needed him. From her childhood Emma had learned one thing, the need to be independent; getting attached to someone was really dangerous, and she had learned that lesson all along her life. Having someone as an anchor was a dangerous thing to have. Her father had held her mother as the very anchor of his life – and now he was dying from his sadness.
She couldn't relay on Hook. She couldn't let him get closer to her - not that she feared him or thought he could get any closer, but Graham's death had opened her eyes on a constant in her life: no one was eternal, people left, as easily as the wind.
"Hook." She called him before he left, watching him turn around to meet her eyes.
He didn't talk, his eyes just holding hers, it appeared that the both of them were tiptoeing around what had occurred last night; it was fine for her for all it mattered. She would rather not breach the subject and let it die, and Hook seemed not inclined to talk a lot, but not because of embarrassment Emma noticed; it was more a respect for her feelings. It felt strangely nice coming from someone like him.
"Thank you." She acknowledged, "Not just for the bath-"
"It's alright, love." He affirmed, putting around his waist his belt with the sword that hung at his side, Emma for a second caught in how deft he was with only one hand, " I will have Smee preparing you a bath and you will be left in private." He pulled the chair away from the bed and placed it in the middle of the room, not far away from the door, "Put this in front of the door if you want to, but I assure you no one will enter the room."
"Not even you?"
He smiled, shaking his head, "Not even me. Rest reassured, you have soap in the closet over there, you shall use it." Seeing her face at his words he added, with a wider smile, "Because I doubt you want only to wash yourself with water, my crew only have a cheap kind of soap, you shall use mine."
"Why are you being so nice to me?"
The question escaped her before she had a chance to stop herself.
"I never said I couldn't be sensitive, love." He said without giving her the time to answer.
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Hook had left her the soap on the desk, she brought it to her nose and was surprised to smell rose, a perfume she would not have expected from him, and she tried to recall Hook's smell - Emma was almost sure he did not smell like rose. The soap was unused, new, still with sharp edges, but she was amazed that he had this kind of product in his possession.
Two knocks on the door and Smee appeared, followed by two sailors carrying the bathtub. They slowly but surely filled it with warm water brought in buckets, Smee supervising them. Emma tried to look busy, feeling the eyes of Smee on her once in a while, and the not so innocent ones from the other sailors. As she waited for them to be done, Emma eyed the map of the world in front of her. It was gracefully drawn, the hand was sure, the lines had been traced without hesitation. At the left corner bottom of the map was signed "KJ" and Emma understood that Hook had made it – it was curious to see him sign with another name.
KJ
Killian Jones.
The name sounded different in her head, she didn't think of the pirate, it felt weird, uncommon, like a stranger.
She shivered.
"Miss?" Smee called her softly, pulling her out of her reverie, "Bath is ready for you." He was standing at her right and was barely taller than Emma who was sitting.
"Thank you Smee."
"I put a plank for you on top of the bath, with a glass of wine - I thought... I thought the Miss would want wine over rum." He babbled, his cheeks rosy.
"That is thoughtful of you, thank you." She squeezed his gloved hand, the gesture awkward for both of them but definitely more for the sailor, whose ears reddened to the tips. Emma smiled, watching them leave. She was left all alone, finally. As If she was in a trance, Emma started to undress herself, slowly getting rid of the clothes that hugged her body too tightly, feeling like she could finally breathe. Entering the tub, she couldn't help but exhale in relief when she felt the heat of the water wrapped around her.
She let herself relax, trying not to focus too much on the events, dipping her head in the water. Holding her breath, she let her mind wander somewhere else, dreaming of fields where the sun could warm her skin gently, of flowers she had never seen.
Far, far away from the eternal snow of her own land.
The book was their last hope, but she didn't quite grasp why it was so; her father had been unbelievably optimistic, like she had never seen him before. He believed that it was their last chance to bring freedom to the kingdom, that it was their last chance to bring Snow White to them. If Emma believed the first task could be accomplished, she doubted the last could ever occur. It was partially due to the fact she had never known the woman the whole kingdom mourned for years now, she had been too young to remember her alive. Selfishly, she didn't want to see her mother back – it would be having a stranger entering her life, not a mother coming back into it. How could you fight for someone you didn't know; Emma did it for the love she held for her father but not for Snow White herself, because no matter what she had been told about the woman she had been once, she was a stranger.
A stranger who treated her badly, Snow White seemed to be sick at the very sight of Emma, screaming and yelling to get this "thing" away from her.
Emma's stomach turned into a knot, guilt stiffened her throat painfully, she wrapped her arms around herself, hands flat on her arms, the same way she did as a child when she had a nightmare and no sound could escape her lips. She felt cold in her bath, cold in her heart, as if the snow had followed her, the chill of the eternal winter following her even here, into the safety of this cabin; the room was warm, yet she felt cold.
She felt the emptiness of the cavity in her chest, feeling her heart racing against her ribcage, as if ready to explode, like a panic attack coming on. Breathing through her nose, Emma tried to calm down, holding herself tighter but nothing seemed to change. Worse, her hands hurt, her arms burned. She disappeared under water, trying to calm herself down, to slow the racing of her heart.
A chill traveled through her body, although she was in hot water; suddenly her hands were burning her and she came out to the surface, breathing hard. Looking more closely at her palms, she noticed that they were burned.
The water was all around her, she was not burned anywhere else but her palms, bright red and hurting like hell. Delicately and careful not to make it worse, she took the towel laid behind her and wrapped her body in it, laying her palms flat against the soft material. It didn't hurt much more now, but she was left puzzled, she didn't understand what had just happened. The skin of her palms was starting to bubble up, she bit back a cry, trying to understand how this had happened, she scanned the rest of her body was still only her hands were burned.
Emma looked at the door, torn between calling Hook's physician for help, but the idea to have to tell the Captain irked her, she didn't want him to get involved any more. She needed gloves, but the idea of pressing leather to her skin made her bristle.
She would hide them beneath her cloak she thought, she would try to find a way to heal them when they reached the land.
"Swan?" Hook startled her when he knocked at the door, not entering the room. Instinctively, she closed the distance from where she stood to the door, pressing herself against it to prevent Hook from coming in.
"I'm not covered." She said, hugging the towel around her, gritting her teeth together when the material burned the skin of her hands.
"Well that isn't exactly something to tell me love." Emma heard him laugh through the door, the sound muffled by the wood, but she felt him lean against the door and her heart missed a beat, afraid he might force his way in, so she warned him.
"Enter this room and I will cut you."
"My, my, love, I'm a gentleman, I won't enter. Do not worry. I'm just here to tell you to get dressed; I'm getting a boat prepared for us to get to land. Be ready in ten minutes."
"I will be there." She assured him.
"Emma?" His voice had lowered to a whisper now, "Dress warmly, the wind is strong on deck."
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Her hair was still wet but braided on her shoulder to avoid getting sick. Her cloak wrapped around herself tightly, she hid her hands behind it, not wanting to bring attention to her. She bristled when the wind blew in her hair. Hook was waiting for her on the deck wearing a black cloak, the hood pulled back on his head. He looked different, though not in a bad way for sure, but without all the leather, the shining jewels hidden from the eye, he looked less pirate-like, but nevertheless dangerous.
"Now this won't do." He breathed out walking toward her and with his hook and hand, pulled the hood over her head, almost hiding her eyes as it fell low on her forehead. "Until we are in the court of the Prince, we can't risk anyone to recognize us, nor to have you catch a cold."
"Worried too much?" Emma bit a laugh.
"I can't afford you to be sick, we are on a mission." He gave her an pointed look.
The boat was ready for them, Hook guided her to it and offered his hook to help her get aboard. It was just his hook, she thought, therefore he couldn't feel the ruined skin of her palms. It would not hurt her more to hold to a hook for a brief instant. She wrapped her fingers around the metal and took place in the boat. Hook didn't see anything or if he did he didn't comment.
"So what's the plan?"
"The plan is we have to get through two miles of forest before reaching the town, and then we need to get into the castle where we will officially present you."
A sailor was with them, rowing them to the land.
"You know that there's little chance for us to get into the castle without being invited. It's heavily guarded."
"That I am aware of; how do you think I got into your castle?" He smiled wickedly, making her roll her eyes at him. She hugged her coat around her, now that they were away from the Jolly Roger Emma realized how big it was and how she had gotten used to the life on there.
But her heart squeezed painfully in her chest, remembering Graham; the sea, as Emma laid her eyes on it, seemed a peaceful horizon, a peaceful corner of the world where nothing bad could happen. She knew better though for having experienced it, that the sea could hide the most dangerous perils, that you could never truly sleep without fearing what would happen next. Storms, other pirates, even your own crew, everything was a possible danger. She thought of too-good Graham, killed unfairly because she had been too proud.
Graham had died.
"What-" she started but the words died in her throat, too tight to let anything escape her lips, the hood falling lower on her face to hide her eyes and protect her dignity.
"I took charge if that is what you're asking for," Hook answered her question, looking away and then back down to their feet, "I will have him transported to land as soon as you require it."
Emma nodded. "The body?"
"Wrapped in linen, Victor took care of it, and Lancelot is currently guarding the room."
The name hung between them. Emma tried not to visualize the scene, she didn't want to imagine his body, cold, lifeless. "I want him to be buried properly, as a true hero." She told him, looking from under her lashes to catch his reaction, "I want him to have a true funeral in the forest."
"He shall have it."
"Thank you."
"My, so many thanks in so little time."
"Don't get used to it."
The forest was enveloped in a thick fog that froze her to the bones, the smell of the wet leaves was welcomed though; it was a memory of her home. Graham and her would go into the forest when they were younger, only if the weather was nicer, which happened only once per year if they were lucky. The snow would melt and let the grass finally appear. This was why Graham loved it so much, she guessed, it was a rare moment, one where the forest could finally breathe, undressed of its heavy snowy coat. Almost in a reverie, Emma looked at the tops of the trees; Aurora and Philip's kingdom were the closest to theirs, also known to be among the very few allies they could count on. When Emma was only 13, her father had sought the help of the other kingdoms to protect his own; the borderline was strategic, it was their only defense from the Evil Queen's kingdom, dead and dry as sand. Aurora's kingdom was fertile and a safe land when her father's kingdom was made of snow only. She sighed, lowering her head into the safe crown of her hood, her hands rising up in the confinement of her cloak so she didn't show her burns to him, trying to pull the hood over her head a bit more, wanting to hide her eyes from him. That mission was an insane idea, chasing a book that they didn't even surely know the purpose of; her father had been ecstatic about it, but that was about all she knew. It was a suicidal mission.
They hit land and finally Emma got to set foot, her legs made weak by days on the sea, and she almost fell to her knees, trying to brace herself as best as she could; it was only for Hook giving her his hand, helping her keep her balance, but she pushed him away and his eyes for a bare second lingered on her hands. She froze, afraid he had seen the burned skin.
Dazzled, she pulled harder against him, forcing him to let go. She tried to make it work, wobbling on her legs until she could finally walk a straight line.
"We need to be quick and avoid the road, we don't need to meet anyone in the forest." Hook told her, walking at her side, eyes straight on the path ahead. "Bandits are all around the land, hiding in the forest for two golden coins."
"You seem well-informed."
Hook tilted his head to the side, grinning, "A man needs to know everything about the journey he's taking, if he doesn't want to be fooled or taken by surprise."
Emma arched a brow, stepping along faster, "A man but not a woman." She felt like she did back at the court, with the crowd of men around her father, no much better than ravens lurking for a prey, pushing her aside for the sole reason of her sex, weaker, inferior. Emma held her chin up, gritting her teeth together; apparently she had misjudged Hook, thinking him different.
"Now do not put the words in my mouth. I have barely mentioned a fact based on my experience; there is no insult laying in my words, you are taking it as such because of your pride."
"You act like a prick." Emma said all on one breath. "You claim to be a gentleman but you act nothing like it."
"You act too high, even for your rank." Hook bit back, walking faster at her side and forcing her to lengthen her steps. "I don't doubt your capabilities; you are the only one to act as if you need to prove something." He paused, musing over something before chuckling, "You sure do not talk like a princess."
Emma stopped in her tracks, furious. "Just because I'm a woman I can't swear? Just because I'm a princess I can't participate? What is it with men and their stupid conception of us not being able to deal with anything?" She waved at him, "You obviously know nothing of women. Seeing as you're alone."
Obviously, she hit a nerve, because he was back in front of her, standing high and his eyes dark with anger, forcing her to lift her chin up if she wanted to look at him, "You have a problem with the world and that is fine with me, love, but do not put me in the same basket; you're not the only one with a problem here. You have an issue with trust. You are so caught up in your pride and your need to prove the world you can that you fail to see what's right in front of you."
"Pride?" Emma repeated, revolted, "My pride? What about yours? What about your cockiness and your fake manners, you're nothing but a pirate and yet you bless yourself for your manners. You want to talk about me?" She groaned and watched him sharply when he dared - the bastard - to grin. "Yes I have to fight, yes I have to, I'm the heir of a dead kingdom that my father and his council won't even let me rule, and why is that? Because my father sees me as a little girl! Because his men see me as a weak woman only! Hell! Even Graham didn't trust me enough to let me fight my own battles!"
"There it is, love," His voice lowered almost to a whisper, "You're not mad at me, you're mad at your father, you're even mad a Graham, rest his soul the poor man can't catch a break even cold and dead."
She slapped him.
And he must have bitten his cheek or tongue, because Hook spit blood on the floor. For a bare second she feared he might give her payback, but he eyed her, "All I know, Swan, is that no man should underestimate you; I would let you fight at my side. I know you can handle yourself, not as a girl, but as a woman." He leaned closer, so close his breath fanned her cheek. "I have nothing to justify myself for, you know nothing, and you won't know a thing from me because this is not why we are here for. We are here to find help with your friend the Prince, that's all. Your vendetta with your father or your kingdom is no business of mine."
"You think so highly of yourself." Emma said, swallowing a breath that she hadn't even noticed she was holding until now. "Don't you?"
Hook's only answer was a husky laugh, his hook raised between them. "Oh love, you don't know what I think and better for you not to dig too much into what I may be thinking, you wouldn't like it." The loop of his hook caught her wrist and brought her hand to the level of his eyes, "Do you think this is being brave?"
Brows knitted together, Emma tried to push him away but he kept her close to him, his eyes not bothering to meet hers but lingering on her wound, scanning the hurt skin. "You don't need to bother. It's nothing."
"Now you're talking nonsense." With his hand, Hook pulled the lapel of his cloak out of way, opening it so he could reach for something he held in a satchel, "Victor always makes sure I have some ointment with me for the wounds."
"Your hook." She guessed, feeling taken aback by his half-confession - not quite, but the meaning of the balm was more than evident. One had to be blind not to make the connection between the medical ointment and his appendage.
His eyes remained on her wound, though she saw a shadow passing over his face, something flickering behind his eyes that tensed his features, "Sharp and chafing." He started applying the fat cream on her palm, his fingers gentle, his tongue caught between his teeth in concentration. "It should make you feel better until we arrive. You will have to have the physician of the court take a proper look at it, since Victor didn't do it for you. You should have told him, no matter how you seem to resent me."
"Who would have thought the fearsome Captain Hook, so dark, so scary, would carry around a balm like the perfect princess." She mocked him, feeling her lips curling in a wry smile that wasn't meant to please.
He gritted his teeth as he spoke, poorly concealing his sharp intake of breath. "You could simply say thank you."
"Thank you." Emma said under her breath; it had been rude of her to consider his own wound with so little regard. Joanna would be mad at her for her lack of manners… Was it that living with pirates could turn you into one of them? She refused to believe so; she wouldn't let them. While she refused the wear dresses made to lessen her, she knew there was a certain code, manners and properness to maintain. "I apologize for insulting you."
"Not for the slap?"
"No, that you deserved."
Hook chuckled. "That I had, and I apologize for my manners. I went too far, although I believe in every word I've said, if not the way I put them." He took his scarf, eyeing her briefly to see if Emma accepted it, and seeing her nod, he pursued, "You're a strong lass, love, shame on the one who believes you to be any less, and you being the first person to deserve shaming for thinking little of yourself."
His words hit her hard, and realizing the truth in them, Emma swallowed her pride and spoke, "I believe my words were a little harsh toward your person, but not empty of truth."
"That I believe you flatter yourself with." He chuckled, the sound warm and welcoming her to drop the weapons and go back to a nicer exchange. They needed to team up if they wanted to get to the book and help her kingdom. "There, all right, it should hold until we arrive."
"Thank you."
She gave him a look warning him not to make another comment, only getting him to smile wider. With his hand, Hook pulled the hood properly over her head, his hook coming up to help him adjust it.
"Careful, it's going to rain soon."
"How can you tell?"
"I would be a poor sailor if I couldn't read the weather." He simply answered, a ghost passing on his face before he decided to go back to their path.
"Are you some kind of a witch?" Emma dared to mock him, pleased to see him chuckling. She tried to keep up with him, which was hard since he was truly trying to get them through the forest. A grin appeared on her face at the thought that the man who was so comfortable upon the seas didn't enjoy the land that much. Looking around them, Emma took into the forest around them; the trees were really tightly interlaced together, making it hard to see properly more than a few yards ahead of them. To add to their trekking, Hook turned out to be right, the rain started to fall, not pouring yet, thank God. Emma doubted her cloak could keep her dry until they made it to the town. The rest of their walk continued in silence, something she was grateful for, leaving her time to muse over what had happened in the last days. Her body had recovered, she carried in her purse hanging at her belt a few dried fruits that Smee had given to her before she had left, which she was thankful for; since Graham's death, eating had been nothing but a chore, appetite lost to her.
The weather was chilly, the air thicker as it gathered up with the drops of the rain and Emma let out a gasp when she shivered, making Hook turn to her.
"Take those." His hand extended to her held a pair of leather gloves, "Those should stop you from smahing your teeth together."
She didn't think twice and accepted them." What about you?"
"As you can see, love," He once again made a display of his hook, "I only have one hand." He observed her pull them on, grinning in that way that left her puzzled, not wanting to delve onto whatever she felt. Seeing her expression he lowered his head and spoke between gritted teeth, "I was thinking of using them once we reached the town, but they would be more useful to you now."
"Why are you so caring all of sudden?"
His eyes flashed back to her and he took a step back, "I told you Swan, I'm not the heartless man you think me to be."
Emma remembered what he had done for her yesterday, how he had cared more than she had ever thought him capable of, her heart suddenly hammering against her ribcage, her hands shaking although they were newly covered by warm leather. "I don't think that anymore." She uttered with a tight voice.
To that he didn't answer, obviously disturbed by her sudden display of friendly face directed at him.
"You lost someone."
He gazed at the rest of the way they had to walk, his voice lost to him, or so it seemed, before he answered in a voice that seemed to come from very far away.
"Not just someone." He said enigmatically, before adding in a whipser that Emma almost didn't hear. "Everyone."
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They made it to the closest town, from there Hook believed that Emma could have a message sent to the castle to announce her presence, they would need t hire a man to deliver the letter to the Prince or Princess and then they would be able to make their entrance into the castle safely. She didn't like the plan that much, mostly because it meant making a pause where they could have just gone forward.
"We can't simply walk in." Hook had told her, answering her silent question.
"Like the way you did in my castle?" She arched a brow that made him grin wider. "Wouldn't it be better to have taken one of your men with us?"
Hook shook his head, "No, we would be way more visible, alone we are faster. And I don't fancy leaving the Jolly without anyone to look after her. " He put his hand on her arm, guiding her to the next inn, "We will have to make a stop here, the night is falling and I don't want to walk in the dark."
"Wouldn't it be better for us to keep going and simply rent a horse?"
"To get attacked in the middle of the night by bandits? I appreciate your trust in my skills to defend us both but I would rather avoid any kind of trouble." His hand went from her arm to the small of her back, "Stay close to me, this inn is known to be visited by bandits and other pirates."
"I believe I can handle myself." She tried not to sound too rude as she spoke, but she couldn't help but feel like she was being belittled.
"That I do believe, it is only easier to stick together, Swan, hold onto me and pretend to be my wife."
Emma glared at him, thinking he was joking.
"Do you prefer those men thinking of you as my whore?"
Emma saw red at his words, pushing him in the chest. "Don't even think of touching me." She opened the door and left it to him to follow her.
The inn was also a bar where people stopped to eat, obviously the concept of a bath was foreign to them considering the awful smell of the room. She spotted a few sailors, and her eyes went to Hook who shook his head.
Good to know that none of them would possibly recognize them. It would be a bad thing for them if they were to be discovered so quickly.
She blessed him for thinking of bringing a cloak and not walking in the inn with all the dramatic effects she knew him capable of. He seemed lost in his thoughts as they sat at a table, only breaking out of his reverie to order two beers, without even asking her first what she wanted.
"Now what do we do?" She asked over her drink, ignoring how the waitress was leaning over the table so they both had a good view of her impressive cleavage.
Hook thanked the woman and didn't give her the attention she desired, though his eyes lingered on her as soon as her back was to them. Pissed, Emma kicked him in the leg, only to have him grin at her - he had done it on purpose. Bastard, she whispered between her teeth.
He was trying to rile her up and Emma was not in the mood.
"We will have to pay a man to send a letter, if we go to the castle without announcing ourselves first, we risk to be arrested before we get to see the Prince." He explained to her after taking a sip of the ale. Emma followed him and took a sip too, grimacing when the bitter alcohol went down her throat. Looking at the waitress over the counter, she wondered if she spit in it, since the display of her top wasn't to flirt but rather to make Emma feel little next to her.
The thought making her sick, Emma pushed the ale away and refused to touch it anymore. "How do you find a man, though?"
Hook scooted closer to her, humming, "Oh but Swan, it's simple, we enter in contact with the right man and we give him the letter." His breath was on her cheek, and he was looking down onto her. Obviously Hook expected her to back off and roll her eyes but feeling bold and wanting to mock him back, Emma leaned closer, brushing her nose with his.
More, her hand went to his thigh, caressing the inside of it gently. "And how do we find this right man?"
"We both try to talk to those men." He cocked his head to the side, eyes meeting hers, bright blue flashing with deep green, "Or you can leave it to me."
"And miss all the fun," Her hand tapped on the table until she reached for his ale, making it fall on his lap, wetting his pants, "Now that all those men believe me to be single and not interested by you," She pushed him away, smiling at the trick she played him, "It will be easier to get in touch with one of these gentlemen." Her tongue caught between her teeth, she gave him her best face and got up, opening her cloak to show her covered cleavage, not as impressive as the wench's yes, but still a nice leverage that will catch the attention and yet the outfit will keep them at bay with respect. And if she needed help, there was the dagger in her boot. Hook had believed it to be better to leave the sword she usually carried on the ship; a woman with a sword would drag attention to them, and if she hated it she had said yes nevertheless, keeping her dagger hidden.
"You're a hell of a woman." The pirate laughed, waving for the waitress to bring him another, "You do know I only have one pair of pants."
"I do believe you're smart enough to figure out a way." She pointed to the woman who came to their table. "After all, that's your kind of women."
The tip of his tongue touched his bottom lip, eyes scanning her with an expression that left Emma breathless, she knew those looks, had experienced them before, but coming from him it was different. "You have no idea what is my kind of women, love. Believe me."
Well that was something else for sure. Her eyes locked with his, she started unbraiding her hair, letting it fall over her shoulders, shrugging to try to bring it under control.
"Swan." He called her before she could leave and go to the closest table. "I know you don't need to hear it."
"Then don't say it."
"Be careful, those men are bandits for most of them, when they aren't assassins."
"You want to send an assassin to the castle? Are out of your mind?"
"My, my, Swan," He calmed her down with a hand raised in front of him, his hook grasping the rag the waitress had brought, the woman literally sitting next to Hook, though she would probably sit on his lap had the said lap not be wet. "That is why, we need to carefully pick our men. Avoid these two." With his chin he showed her two men in the corner of the room, "Those two look like no good. Don't even bother."
"Alright." She spun on her heels, ignoring the ridiculously high laughter of the woman holding Hook's arm. He could do whatever he wanted with that woman as far as Emma was concerned, but the fact that he took everything so carelessly, her included bothered her.
He left her terribly confused; she knew him capable of great kindness, so where was the man who had held her against his chest now? Her hands clenched into fists, covered with his gloves, another proof of what kind of man he could be. Yet, as Emma looked over her shoulder all she saw was him petting the whore (there was no other word to describe the woman, she was obviously more skilled at it than at waitressing, though Emma guessed that here the job implied both). She turned her head back to her task; this was none of her business.
"Hello there, gentlemen." She slid to the smelly and interested man's side, "I need your help."
"Aye, ma'am", the grumpy man lightened up, showing her a smile made of missing teeth, his fat fingers brushing over the wrist Emma had left on the table. She was thankful for the gloves she wore because looking down to notice the man's disgusting and dirty hands, Emma only wanted to pull away. "What is a pretty lady such as yourself doing here?" His hand went higher on her arm, his nose dropping to her bosom, the fact it was covered didn't seem to bother him judging by the way his nostrils widen.
Years spent at the court taught her to handle the art of manipulation, her smile her most precious weapon. Her free hand brushed a curl behind her shoulder, laughing. "I'm a damsel in distress. I require your help."
"Anything." The man waved his hand to the side, before placing her gloved hand on his chest, letting her feel his heart. "My heart belongs to you lady. It does." He was obviously drunk, he smelled like sweat and bad alcohol, making it harder for Emma to smile when he blew in her face. "Same thing with my body." He held her hand tighter and started to take it south to his groin. Emma stood up, almost making him fall over his face.
The man tried to hold her but Emma shoved him back, taking her leave. Going back to the table she shared with Hook was not possible since he was in a very deep conversation with the woman, his fingers traveling over her collarbone. Emma rolled her eyes, how could she not, she was the only one working for their goal, while he was enjoying himself in a shameless way.
Biting her lips enough to drag blood to her mouth, Emma fought the strong need to cry, not allowing herself the weakness. She didn't miss the fiancé but the friend, Graham, who would have been of a great help this right second and surely not flirting around.
But that is, only because he was too far taken by her to notice anyone else.
Emma opened the door of the inn, not caring a moment if Hook was looking or not, her hand flat on her stomach trying to keep the sickness away. The fresh air brushed over her like a relief, feeling truly better now that she wasn't surrounded by the impossible smell of men, sweat, and alcohol.
The thought of leaving the inn and getting herself her own horse to gallop to Philip's castle was more than tempting; she would get rid of Hook and simply continue her journey alone, bring back the book to her father.
Yet, no matter how much she claimed her ability to deal with everything on her own, she had never travelled this far and she had no idea which way to go to find the castle. Granted she could ask for help, ask someone for the right route.
Her hands were shaking despite the gloves, her whole body shivering, it took all her willpower not to fall to the ground and curl around herself. She longed for her father's touch but she couldn't even call it to her mind; it had been too long since her dad had truly showed tenderness to her, too lost in his own mourning.
A mouth covered her mouth and a hard body was pressed against hers. Her back hit the wall in a dark alley, a man's hands on her sides. Her teeth sank into his lip hard, biting down until she drew blood, anger, fear ran through her blood, she tried not to let either of those emotions rule her though giving in to the first one would be easy, the second turning dangerous if Emma let it govern her. The man groaned in his beard in pain, but held her tighter.
"Think you can wander around without being noticed." He blew his putrid breath at her face. "Princess Emma."
Emma's body went rigid.
No one knew her here.
No one knew her identity.
Her hand closed around the dagger at her side, trying to wriggle it but the man's grip was too tight. The light was so dim she could barely make out the shape of his face. "Pretty Princess," his finger traced the side of her neck, "So much creamy skin, such a lovely throat, what a pity." He licked her jaw, "To have to cut such a lovely neck."
"You filthy pig." Emma spit to his face and managed to finally grip her dagger and stab the man in the back. The shock of the blow echoed in her bones, she had no idea what she had hit but she hoped it was vital. With her free hand, she tried to get rid of him, pushing him off but even though in great pain, the man remained where he was standing. His body was pressing her against the wall, heavy mass sweating and now bleeding on her. She didn't see it but she felt her hand covered in a thick and hot liquid. Emma held back a cry of disgust. She tried to lift her leg up and kick him in the groin but he was too heavy on her even if the blow was making him breath hard.
"You fucking bitch whore!" He yelled before he gasped, blood coming out of his mouth and splashing on his clothes. Emma covered her mouth so she didn't let a cry escape as the man fell to his knees, revealing Hook standing behind him. It was only then she took in the hook that was stabbed in the man's neck.
"You alright, Swan?" Hook asked with a look of concern, freeing his hook of the now dead body, pushing the man on his back with his foot.
Still shocked, Emma nodded, kneeling down to pick up her dagger, but Hook reached it first, cleaning it up against his coat before handing it to her.
"None of this would have happened if it wasn't for you." She said sharply between her teeth, not looking at him but staring at the dagger in her hand, "If you had spent less time-"
Emma couldn't finish her sentence before Hook was taking her by the elbow and walking her into a corner, and her body froze thinking he was going to pin her against a wall like the man before but he maintained a distance between them.
"You decided to go outside, not me, do not blame me for being jealous of-"
"Jealous of who? A whore?" She had to fight back the urge of slap him again, her nails digging into her palms, reminding her of the scarred skin. "I'm pissed that while you're flirting and trying to get laid I'm trying to get us out of there!"
"I got us a messenger!" Hook yelled, using his commanding voice before breathing hard through his nose that he pinched with two fingers, "I got the woman to deliver the message to the castle."
"And what now?"
Hook didn't answer her, his attention on the man lying at his feet.
"What's wrong?"
"Give me a second." He knelt to the ground, pushing his coat behind him as he started unbuttoning the man's sleeve, scrunching his nose at the smell and revealing a tattoo on his forearm.
"What does it mean?"
"What did the man tell you, Swan?"
Emma came closer to the body, examining inked lines on the man's wrist; it was a skeleton wearing a crown, holding a stick. The shape was faded with time, but the drawing made Emma shiver.
"What did the man tell you, lass?" Hook repeated.
"He knew my name..." Emma mumbled, feeling her hands shaking, "He knew I was a princess. And he said something about me being stupid if I thought I could wander around without being noticed."
"What does it mean?" Emma asked, feeling her head spin; she was obviously in shock because of what happened, and Hook hand went to her arm, careful not to scare her.
"Edward Teach." He spoke the name carefully, "You met him and he's obviously after you now." He paused and watched her reaction, before adding in a whisper, "Blackbeard."
"Why does he want me dead?"
She pulled away from the pirate. It made no sense, Blackbeard had a problem with Hook, not with her. Shivering, Emma remembered how the pirate had pressed himself against her, used her as leverage against Hook, and how he had threatened her.
"I don't know, love," He dipped his head, his face set into firm lines. "I don't know why he sent someone after you when he obviously has a problem with me. But what I know is that it's not safe for you to be alone."
"I jabbed him."
"I know." He rolled the man on his stomach and showed her the wound. "You got caught between two ribs, but you didn't reach a vital organ. That's why he didn't let go." His eyes flickered over hers, trying to make contact even though Emma avoided his stare. "Are you sure you're okay, Emma?"
She finally got out of her stupor, his blue eyes were staring at her with great worry, his face creased with concern, "I am." She assured him, the man hadn't had time to hurt her, he had only scared her.
Hook got to his feet, closing the distance between them and trying to smile at her, "I swear to you Swan that Blackbeard signed his death warrant when he decided to attack you. Will it be too much to ask for you to stay at my side, where I can make sure you're safe?" He added before she had time to correct him, "I know you can fight, I know you can handle yourself. That doesn't mean you have to do it alone."
Speechless and moved by his words, Emma nodded, trying to stop the quivering of her body.
"Let's get you inside. You're frozen."
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"I can't share a room with you." Emma refused, offended that he would think she would agree with that.
"I'm not going to pay for another room, and I'm surely not going to leave you alone in a room when someone just tried to kill you."
His second argument made sense but Emma sucked a breath in, "It's not proper."
Hook groaned, "Properness is the last of our worries, love, we are in an inn and there is no way we are safe here; it will be better and safer to share a room. I never talked about sharing a bed, but if that's what you-"
"Alright." Emma cut him off, closing her eyes briefly; she felt extremely tired, the attack had gotten to her nerves and a bed was the only thing she desired right now. "I'm not sharing a bed with you though."
"Of course you aren't." Hook looked around them, "Better to give the impression that you are my wife."
"Not your whore?"
"You're far too respectable to my eyes to be such a woman, love," He scooted closer to her, "I will put my arm around your waist. Try not to look like you're going to throw up." His arm closed around her waist and drew her against him. Her body reacted to his closeness, still keeping in memory the way he had held her.
"Easier said than done."
"Yet you didn't seem to complain about it-" He stopped himself, realizing how he sounded, "Sorry."
Emma ignored him and looked around, "Can we go upstairs? I'm tired." She whispered in his ear, trying to look like an in love woman, her arm awkwardly hugging him back. From over the counter, she saw their messenger looking at her with obviously jealousy.
"Sure thing, love." He got up and offered her his hand to stand up at his side, "Wait for me here, though, I will talk to Ania."
He walked to the woman and apparently asked her something. Ania leaned heavily against the counter- Emma wondered if her feet were even touching the floor. She saw the woman grab Hook's wrist and caress it with an all too knowing smile as she whispered something in his ear. Hook seemed to laugh, though Emma believed he was faking it, the smile he wore not quite reaching his eyes. He shook his head and bid her goodnight.
"Let's go." He told her as he wrapped his arm back around her waist, kissing her cheek in a surprising gesture that was hard for Emma not to react with a gasp of shock, "You're my wife aren't you?" He explained to her, "You don't want to let these men think you're my whore do you?"
Emma believed that at this point it didn't matter much, but since she accepted to play the part she leaned in as if to kiss him, brushing her nose against his.
"You sleep on the floor." She whispered on his lips, her hands framing his face and her thumb caressing the scar on his cheek, "Touch me and I will show you how I can jab a man properly." His skin was warm under her fingers, he smelled of alcohol – though he was far from being drunk - and spices. From where she was standing, she could see the blueness of his eyes, a color that could steal one's breath away. A fact she would keep for herself.
"As long as you use a sword." The innuendo rolled off his tongue, and Emma rolled her eyes at the remark she should have expected from him. He was so terribly predictable when it came to those stupid jokes. Yet it felt nice to fall back into this banter, as if it were safer.
Emma finally pulled away from him, shooting him a beaming smile over her shoulder that was supposed to say to the whole bar that she was waiting for her husband to show her more. She saw him brush a thumb over his lips, the gesture almost obscene, putting fire to the skin of her cheeks.
She would blame it on the heat of the inn.
They climbed the stairs that led to the room they had rented, and Emma dropped the act.
"Take a few blankets."
"Or we could share the bed."
"Didn't you hear what I said earlier?" Emma turned around to look at him over her shoulder.
"Right." He laughed before someone knocked at the door, startling Emma. "Don't worry. I ordered a soup for you." He explained to her.
Ania came into the room with a plate and a bowl of soup with a loaf of bread. Emma thanked her and told her to leave, not wanting to deal more with the woman or her desperate attempts to charm the pirate that shared Emma's room.
"That all?" Ania asked Hook with a hopeful smile, her accent thick.
"Yes Ania, that will be all thank you."
Deceived, the woman left the room, clicking her heels against the floor and almost slamming the door.
"You're sure you don't want to go downstairs and enjoy-"
"Do you want me to?"
Emma shrugged and went to the bed; the property was not at its best but there was worse she thought. "Do you always answer a question with another?"
"Do you always avoid them?" Hook laughed as she attacked the meal, it wasn't exactly what one could consider a good meal, but the hot liquid sat comfortably in her stomach and she felt like she could breathe normally now.
"Aren't you hungry?"
"I ate before, eat your soup love, I won't steal it from you."
"Not that I would have let you."
Once she was done eating, she put the plate on the table next to the bed, pausing in her movements as she stretched out of tiredness, Emma realized that there was no way for her to get undressed without letting Hook catch a glimpse; they were playing married and he couldn't exactly wait outside.
There was no closet so no door to use, there were no curtains or anything ; this inn was a joke in its definition. She decided to sleep in her clothes, wishing she had taken with her the shift that was on the Jolly Roger. But now was not the time for regrets, so Emma folded the cloak and placed it where a pillow should be.
Hook had started to make his bed on the floor and a pang of guilt tightened her chest.
"Maybe you should ask Ania for a chair?"
Hook shot her an amused look, his hand going back to his jacket that he had started unbuttoning. "Do not worry for me, I shall be fine." He pushed off his shoulders the leather jacket revealing a black shirt with – obviously - a deep v-neck.
Emma swallowed tickly as she tried to busy herself with the laces of her boots, she was no innocent, it wasn't the first time she was seeing a man half naked but the fact that Hook was doing it to play with her nerves was not helping her at all. She lifted her chin up and looked at the display of tanned skin in front of her eyes. He was handsomely made and shaped, there was no point denying that, it was the truth.
He was scarred, proof that he had been into more than one battle, and not just as spectator behind his wheel while his crew was risking their lives.
Emma tried to keep an even breathing as he took off his shirt; hiding the contours of muscles and lines of his left arm was an important and heavy contraption made of leather. It was almost uncomfortable to see him showing her so much of himself – it was made on purpose of course, Hook was trying to rile her up or to make her confess something.
Probably both.
Finally he laid down on the floor and out of her sight, a relief for Emma. She didn't like to be played or forced into a banter that, if she did appreciate it at time, was getting on her nerves. It wasn't just Hook, it was Graham's death that still felt like a hand wrapped around her neck and preventing the air from coming in. Then there was the altercation with one of Blackbeard's men; it terrified her knowing that one of the most fearsome pirate captains was right now after her. He had a feud with Hook, not her, then why was he after her?
Tomorrow they would make their entrance into Phillip's castle; it had been a very long time since Emma had been there, what with the snow around the kingdom, and the danger that it represented to take a whole court across the sea or through the heavy and imposing forest that surrounded Phillip's father's kingdom. There had been plans a long time ago, or at least it had been proposed to both Phillip and her to conclude an arrangement.
Emma's father hadn't pushed her through to a marriage, he wouldn't, as lost as he was, he had left it to her to decide. A few years later, Phillip had announced his wedding with a princess of the south Kingdom, Aurora.
Emma brought the covers over her body and tried to get comfortable, she was all too aware of Hook's normal breathing – meaning he was not asleep either.
Closing her eyes, she tried to push away the image of the man coughing blood on her, his hands on her body and how his breath had fanned her face as he tried to threaten her. Would he have tried to do more than scare her, Emma would never know, but the uncertainty was under her skin like a bitter poison.
She brought her knees up and hugged herself, trying to find sleep, away from all the threats that felt like they were waiting to fall on her head.
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