I don't want to get people's hopes up, but I think I've found my muse again for this story, meaning I may be able to stick to my weekly updates. If not they will always be bi-weekly, don't you worry.
I was in such a rush to get this up before the weekend since I'm going away that the spell checking and grammar is probably awful. I apologise. I'm going to g back over it, just not today.
Anyway, let me know what you think, I love hearing what you think!
Hope was a strange thing. It could blossom in the most cavernous of places, or shrivel and die in the most blinding of light. It was a vast and complicated and could move mountains with a whisper. And it was something Snow White had not truly felt in such a very long time. But after hearing Regina's words, the incredibly forced honesty in the woman's voice as she told her.
Emma Swan was Henry's mother. Emma Swan was Snow's daughter. Emma Swan was out there looking for her son and her son just so happened to be right where Snow was. Now, Snow had never been much of a believer in fate, but right now, the idea that this could be anything less than fate was impossible. She was coming home; Snow's daughter was coming home.
As soon as the shock of Regina's words had worn off, Snow had disappeared from the room in desperate search of her husband to tell him the miraculous news.
It hadn't taken too long to find him, David had always been a predictable soul, even as a King. The stables were almost empty by the time Snow got there, only one stable boy stocking up the horse's hay racks for the day. Five stalls down Snow found her husband, stroking the man of a brown and white horse and explaining to Henry just how to care for a stallion such as this one. It was a touching scene, and knowing the truth, of who Henry was only warmed Snow's heart more.
"Snow," David said when he spotted her in the entrance, passing the brush to Henry to continue grooming the horse while he approached his wife. "What brings you down here?" He asked, but Snow couldn't look at him, her gaze too transfixed on the young boy before her, brush in hand as he stood atop a pale to reach the horses back.
"Oh, David," She said, her voice lighter than it had been in years. "We know where to find her," Snow beamed, watching as David's face lit up with a hope she could still feel blazing within her. Whether Regina knew it or not, she had saved this kingdom, she had told them about Emma. She was going to help bring her home.
"You mean –"
"Emma." She said, finally looking at her husband, any calm façade she had cracking beneath his hopeful gaze. "We know where to find her. We can bring her home,"
"This is –" But he didn't finish, instead wrapping his arms around his wife, lifting and spinning her as she laughed into the empty stable. It had been twenty-eight years since that fateful day, and Snow was sure she'd not felt David this hapy since. Of course, when Leo had been born the king and queen had been over the moon, but they joy had been tainted with fear, not for them, but for their child. Leopold had spent the first few months of his infancy in Snow and Charming's chambers, the parents too afraid to leave their baby alone should the Evil Queen come knocking once more, taking the only chance they had at happiness from them once more. But now, now that happiness could last a lifetime, just as soon as they brought Emma home and their family became whole.
"There's more," Snow said as he placed her once more on the floor, her hands gripping his arms through his plush red jacket. If Snow had thought the smile on her face couldn't have grown any wider, she had been sorely mistaken. "The boy, Henry, he's her son." She pressed, grip tightening as David's face fell into confusions, but it was short lived.
"You mean to tell me –" He began, but he found he couldn't finish, the joy that was filling hi body was overflowing already, knocking and comprehensible sentence from his mind, leaving his outh empty.
"We have a grandson," Snow had always been better with words, and yet, it seemed that she too, was fumbling for the right ones, her pale face rosy as her smile threatened to cut her face in too. It was the most beautiful sight that David had seen and he knew, curse or not, that a smile like that could bathe the kingdom in light. It was a smile worth living for, a smile made of hope. It was everything David had needed for the words to sink in fully. His daughter was out there, and they had a new way to find her, but until then, they had a grandson to care for.
"We have to tell him," Was all David said and Snow smiled. She'd have replied had another voice not have cut them off.
"Tell me what?" Henry asked, standing with his brush still in his hand outside the entrance to the horse's stall. This was where Emma had been all these years, caring for this boy who David had already become taken with, promising to teach him to sword fight and ride a horse, now he could. For so long as there was breath in David's lungs, he would protect this boy, his grandson, and he would give him the world if he could.
Now, all that was left as to tell him so they could bring their family together once more.
If Emma had thought the calm before the storm was beautiful, then it was simply ebavuse she hadn't seen how tranquil the world seemed after one. Specifically, after one that had nearly lost her her life.
The sky seemed bluer than before, any clouds that remained sifting light grey across the sky, disappearing slowly into the horizon. Emma remembered how she would watch clouds for hours, just lying on her back in the grass, head tilted towards the sky as she let the hours pass her by. She'd wished, back then, that she could float away with them, to sprout wings and drift through the sky like there wasn't a care in the world. But there was. Because just as soon as she'd feel herself drifting off, she'd be called for a meagre dinner in whatever orphanage she was living at, or she'd hear bandits begin traipsing through the forest around the clearing of the village she lived in that one time.
Now, though, now, just so long as they remained at sea, she could stare at the sky for hours without ever looking back down. She could be free, even if it was just for a moment.
Emma wasn't sure how long the clinking of swords had been sounding behind her, far too occupied letting her mind drift like clouds in the wind. As she turned, weary still of the throbbing in her side from the wound that still felt fresh, even if it wasn't, she caught sight of the two figures seemingly sparring on the deck, the crew jeering around them.
She moved closer, the crew parting to allow her to pass. For all she'd learned about pirates and for all the ones she had met, she would never deny that Captain Hook's crew were the most well-mannered bunch she'd ever known. Perhaps it was something about where they came from, or maybe it was just the way Hook – the so called gentleman – had them behave. Whatever it was, Emma was still in awe.
As she reached the front of the small group of men, all of which stood taller than her, she saw the commotion. Hook was sparring with the deckhand; a young boy of seventeen, maybe eighteen that he'd apparently picked up two ports before he had Emma. The orphaned boy had wanted passage and had no way to pay for it, and for some unknown reason, Hook had taken him in, offering food, passage, a bunk for the night and strange semblance of family. Emma had no idea why, perhaps she'd ask one day and maybe he'd tell her. For now, she was satisfied watching as Hook and the boy went at one another with cutlasses, their words lost in the clang of metal.
Ever few moments they would stop, Hook would gesture with her sword at the boy who'd then reposition his feet and they'd be at it once again. It took Emma a moment to realise that Hook was not just duelling with the boy, he was teaching him, correcting his form and grip on the blade before they continued. It was a sight to behold, that was for sure.
It didn't last long, the duel. Hook stopped giving directions not long after Emma had joined the audience, intead, he seemed to turn the skill up a notch, matching the boy's strikes blow for blow, advancing upon him until he had him backing up into the dip between two barrels. There was a ringing sound, the slash of metal against metal, followed by a clatter and the boys cutlass was halfway across the deck, skidding to a halt by Mrs Gibb'S feet, while Hook's cutlass lay at the boy throat.
The cheers rang amongst the crew and Emma almost felt herself joining in. Hook had lowered his sword and nudged the young man – who Emma now knew was called Samuel – on the shoulder with the curve of his hook. It was an oddly familiar gesture, like one shared between close friends, brothers maybe, and Emma didn't know how she was supposed to feel. Here he was, Captain Hook, one of the most feared pirates in all the lands, teaching an orphaned teenager how to fight, how defend himself.
Without much thought, Emma had stepped forward, right into the line of sight for all of the crew and t's captain.
"Evening, Lass," Killian said, still smiling from his successful lesson, no doubt. "And what can I help you with?"
"I wanted to see for myself how good a teacher you were." Emma said and without hesitation she drew her own sword. It wasn't impressive handiwork, not by any means, she'd stolen it years ago after all. But she found it did the job. Hook eyed her appraisingly, stepping towards her in the same swaggering way he often did, his hand flipping the back of his leather coat slightly as he looked around at the crew surrounding the two of them.
"And how do you intend on doing that, Love?" He asked and Emma could feel her bac straightening, her shoulders setting as proudly as she could manage before she spoke again.
"I'm trying something new," She said, but didn't elaborate. Judging by the strange look of hopeful promise that passed over Hook's face for just a moment, she didn't need to either. They both remembered their earlier conversations aboard this deck, of Hook telling her of the wonders of the lands out there, of her telling him of her time in Arendelle, however briefly. And finally, of him offering to teach her how to fight. All she was doing, was cashing in that promise.
"If the lady insists," Hook replied, his smirk reaching up to his eyes, even as he bowed faux gentlemanly as he could. "Your grips too tight." He sad first, clashing his sword against hers in a quick swipe, the movement jolting her hand to the side, but her grip remained firm. "A sword is to be the extension of your arm. If you were to hold your arm that tight it would lose circulation and be useless." He said matter-of-factly and Emma fought the urge to roll her eyes. Hook managed to slip straight into the role of teacher, his smile encouraging despite the fact he held a sword pointed at her chest. If he wanted to kill her right now, he could, something that didn't escape Emma's knowledge. And yet, she trusted him not to. He had saved her less than a day ago.
"Where did you learn all this?" she asked as the two began to circle the main deck, Hook somehow managing to shrug off his heavy leather coat with his sword in one hand and his other, well, not being a hand. Throwing it behind him almost carelessly, he had his sword raised once more.
"There's always a life before piracy, Swan," He said with a smirk that told Emma it was all she was getting. She didn't mind, she also didn't feel compelled to tell him anything. She liked it that way, keeping as much of herself to herself as she could, hiding behind her walls because the outside was dangerous and people got hurt and most off all, hearts got broken. "Your feet are too close," He said, gesturing with his sword to where Emma stood with her knees barely half a foot apart before smacking against her sword once more, the echo of the clash sounding over the seas.
They continued like that for a little while longer, Emma making a few steps against Hook, only for him to meet each swipe. He was holding back, Emma knew, she'd seen him fight, she'd fought alongside him and this, the gentle tap of metal against metal and the blocking of her advances was holding back. Before long the speed picked up and Emma could feel the moment that Hook switched from defence to offence, something that made all the difference.
She lasted longer than Samuel did, and she counted that as a win, but Hook was skilled with years worth of experience under his belt, which he'd chosen to put into play. They parried each other blows for a few moments longer and Emma thought that perhaps, just maybe, if she could back him against the barrels, like he had with Samuel, that she might be able, with a fair bit of effort, disarm him at the very least.
"Good form, Love. But not good enough," He smiled
Her fantasy proved to be just that, as she felt his arm managed to lock around the back of her leg, pulling her feet out from under her. She hit the dark hard, but not too hard, Hook's arm having managed to keep her leg elevated just a tiny bit. But not enough that her ribs didn't flare with agony at the impact. When she hissed out a breath in pain, she saw Hook falter, his eyes roaming her body for any signs of true damage. Not that it would have made much difference, in the low lamp light surrounding them he'd be lucky if he could make out the colour of her eyes.
Whatever it was she'd seen, the worry and concern in his gaze, was replaced with a smirk as soon as he noticed she wasn't bleeding out over his deck. Somehow, Emma had managed to keep her sword raised, something she would marvel at, had it not currently been trapped between Hook's own blade and his Hook.
"Normally," He said, pushing against her sword, lowering his body until he was knelt above her on one knee, his eyes dancing with glee as he descended upon her. Emma ignored the shiver she felt run up her arms, blaming it on the shock of her back impacting with the cold deck. "I prefer to do other more enjoyable activities with a woman on her back," His words were taunting and tantalizingly slow and Emma almost felt herself get lost in them. Almost. Instead, she considered just how she would get out of a situation such as this. "Bit of advice," He said, his was just breath over a whisper. The crew was still watching, but Emma doubted they could hear a word they were saying to one another. "When I jab you with my sword, you'll feel it," The words were dripping with innuendo, and it wasn't one Emma missed. Normally, she'd brush it off, laugh, maybe even roll her eyes, but then she remembered the concern he'd shown not moments before, his quietly spoke words as she coughed up lungs full of sea water onto the deck. Maybe I just needed a reminder that I could. It was disarming to say the least. "You might want to quit."
"Why would I do that," Emma said, her legs bent around where Hook knelt, her feet planted as firmly as she could manage. She had a plan, it wasn't much of one, but it was enough that she maybe even stood a chance against him, despite his extra strength and skill. "When I'm winning," The cock of his head told her he was distracted and with that she took a chance. Managing to quickly jam one leg between their bodied, she kicked against his chest, hard, enough that he stumbled back, his 'Good form' momentarily thrown off, enough so that she gained her own footing once again.
"Not bad," He appraised, watching as she held her blade far steadier than she had when this duel had begun. Remembering his words, she tried to slacken her grip, treating to weapon like an extension of her arm. But then she realised just how close her was to her again, their swords weren't touching but he was no more than an arms reached away. Perhaps her familiar, crude fighting style might just come in handy after all.
"Thanks," She said with a smile, more feral than friendly before she took one more plunge. There was a crack as her fist connected with Hook's jaw and he stumbled back once more, his cutlass clattering against the deck as his free, and only, hand came to cup where her knuckles had impacted.
"Bravo, Lass," Hook said, regarding where she stood before him, slightly out of breath with both her own sword and his cutlass in hand pointed towards him. "You've bested me. I can count the number of people to do that on one hand." He took a swig from his flask and Emma was amazed he'd managed to fight to eloquently with it tucked at his belt. He offered it to her and she accepted.
"Is that supposed to be funny?" her words were mocking but even she, with all her barriers, couldn't keep the flood of pride that trickled through into her voice. So, she took a swig of the flask herself, not entirely sure what is was she was drinking. For all she knew, it was sea water. Judging by the burn that filled her mouth and travelled down her throat, she was guessing not. But it was bearable, because he was right, she'd bested him, and she was feeling pretty damn good about it.
"No," He said, accepted his cutlass from her outstretched hand and sheathing it once more about his belt. "That was quite sincere," He was getting closer again, and Emma could hear the warning bells going off in her head. "You are full of surprises," It sounded an awful lot like a compliment, especially when he spoke with his voice low and his eyebrow quirked in a way that Emma noticed he seemed to a lot. He did with her, at least.
"Perhaps I'm not who you thought I was," She said, trying to match her voice to his own, with only a bit less of the flirtation. This was hardly the time for that.
"And just who are you, Swan?" He asked, and judging by the way he ran his tongue over his bottom lip, Emma would say that she failed.
"Wouldn't you like to know," This was dangerous territory, she knew, but like all things risky and dangerous, Emma just couldn't find it in herself to back away. She felt drawn in, like a moth and a flame. Sooner or later she was going to get burnt and she'd have no one to blame but herself. That is, unless, she got herself out of this crazy situation and soon.
"Perhaps I would," She passed back his flask, doing what she could not to let their fingers brush. If physical contact was going to set off any kind of reaction, it was not one she wanted to experience. Not now, not while she was still searching for Henry. Before she'd even had the chance to respond, there was a call from the helm.
"Captain!" Mr. Gibbs called, and Emma was sure she heard Hook groan. For what reason, Emma wasn't sure. "Land ho!" All heads turned then, searching for the sign of land upon the horizon. Emma saw the lights of the town like it was one fire, the orange and yellow glow of what must be hundreds of lanterns emitting from the portside town like a beacon.
"Well, Love," Hook said, sidling up beside her as she gazed across the black water and over to the port beyond. She'd barely even realised how close he'd gotten to her, but she didn't pull away, there wasn't any point, really. Her walls were up and she was determined to keep them that way, to keep him as far out as she could. She'd trust him, right up until Henry was back in her arms, and then, after the business with the Dark One was over, she'd never have to see him again. "We're one step closer to bringing your boy home. Welcome to Totruga."
It wasn't a long chapter, I know, but I'm planning for the next one to be over 4K words (Fingers crossed)
I'm tying to incorporate Pirates of the Caribbean into this, as you may have noticed. There is going to be more characters in Tortuga, but none of the super main cast a I find them incredibly hard to write.
Seems Emma's time on the Jolly is over, meaning she is indeed one step closer to finding Henry - who just so happens to know who and what they are.
Let me know your thoughts.