A/N – This chapter is so long because it is basically just a romance novel I sgt. But it got so long that I've had to chop it in half (very George R R Martin of me, right?) and post them as two separate halves, but just at the same time. So the next chapter (which I'm posting immediately) just follows right on.

13. Just Physical

"Captain?"

"Wren," Emma turned to meet the ship boy's eyes (as best as she could, considering he was a good foot shorter than her).
"There's land a few knots north. Matteo spotted it, proper." The lad was looking up at her, squinting in the harsh glaring sunlight, breeze teasing his overgrown blond hair across his eager face. Though the winds of winter still lingered, the spring sun was seeping over the grey ocean waves fast enough. The deck was bright; it was somehow encouraging. "But if that's not the island you meant, Captain, are we still set to keep her steady?"

Emma shook her head absently, blonde hair lifting and curling like a banner through the bright blue air. "'s not it. We're too far north, still, true pirate territory. The island we want's further south. So keep course." She glanced down at him, standing almost painfully alert on the rough boards of the poop deck. A faint smile crossed her heart, warmth running through her chest. The boy was no more than fourteen, honest, way too desperate to please. He looked almost crestfallen. Emma's eyes sought his, holding his gaze. "But you did well to let me know. Keep at it. I want to be aware beforehand of any land we pass."

"Course, Captain," Wren nodded, flushed pink. He was trying to conceal a proud grin.

Emma watched him run off, almost tripping over his own feet to scramble back up the rigging, dagger banging at his skinny hip. She'd picked him up two years ago, when he'd been a scrap of a boy, run off from his drafting in the war. He was too much like Henry for her to leave behind.

"Can he use that?"
Emma turned around suddenly, pretending her heart hadn't jumped at the familiar voice. Regina was walking purposefully across the deck to her, head cocked, hint of a smile on her lips. Her dark hair was shining, and somehow not going crazy in the wind, the damn perfect bitch. Even so, she couldn't help the smile quirking her own mouth.

The breeze was rippling through Regina's shirt – Emma's shirt, technically – and though it was still a size too big, it somehow seemed to fit better now. And then Emma realised why – with the deck rocking beneath her, grey glimmering waves spread out all around her: she looked like a part of the scene, for the first time. Like she fit better. It did something to Emma's chest.

She turned her shoulders, meeting the brunette's gaze with slightly raised brows. "You mean the knife or the brain?"

"I meant the knife," Regina clarified, stopping languidly in front of her. She folded her arms. "Nobody his age can use a brain yet."

"Hey." Emma gave her a look, eyes wide, mock-scolding. "I'll have you know I was a very mature teenage pickpocket."

"I'm sure you were." A slow smirk drifted over the other woman's mouth. It turned genuine within a second. Regina's dark eyes flickered up to meet hers, and Emma felt the stare like a blow to the chest. "Does that mean I'm getting that backstory time soon?"

"Patience, princess," Emma pressed, eyes never leaving hers. She swallowed, blowing her hair from her eyes. "For the record, he can use the knife. All courtesy of me, of course. Damn royal army didn't do him any good, no personal offense." She skirted pointedly around her professed hatred of the monarchy, lifting her gaze to meet Regina's. "I think in my profession you need all the protection you can get. In this world, actually. Sword's a handy skill. Saved my life a hundred times."

"Good." Regina smiled briefly, eyes trained on Emma's with a grim determination in her set jaw that made her feel like she was finally getting to the point. "Because I want you to teach me."

Emma stared, taken slightly aback. Was not expecting that. "What? Why?" A furrow appeared between her eyebrows. The whole time she'd been here, all the princess had done was complain about her stupid hacking, make distasteful faces whenever anyone was sparring on deck. Or at least, had. That was back before...

Before she was a human being, back when she was just an annoying princess Emma didn't know whether to throw over the side or keep around just so she could laugh at the stupid things she said.

Regina frowned slightly, perfect brow cocked. She opened her mouth, as if to protest, and in that motion Emma could see all of her noble blood and dignity. It made her smile. "I mean, I will." Emma assured her hurriedly, before she could complain. "Of course I will, I just... Why the sudden urge?"

The brunette breathed in sharply, considering. Eventually, she lifted her brown eyes to Emma's. "If I'm going to be a part of this crew, I need to know how to defend myself. I need to be helpful." She stated begrudgingly. "Back at the cave, when Rumple appeared, all I could do was stand behind you and hope. And before then, when that man at the tavern recognised me..." She shook her head. "I'm not going to get much further on my own. To be honest, it's a miracle I've made it this far."

"Right." Emma nodded, gaze darting from the earnest request shining in the brunette's dark eyes to the scar on her full lips. She wondered how she'd got it. She remembered how it felt under her lips. Her chest clenched – she shook the train of thought away. "'Course. But you're not. On you own, I mean." Emma's eyes were fixed on hers, exhaling slowly. "You're not on your own."

Something shifted behind Regina's rich brown eyes, her lips parted, ends of her dark hair lifting in the breeze. Emma watched her swallow, saw the muscles working in her throat. Eventually, she spoke. "I know." She nodded slightly. "I know."

So that was how Emma found herself, a few conversations later, running back from her cabin with two blunted tourney swords – perfect for training – that she'd picked up years ago, weirdly aware of her heart beating in her throat. She was so caught up in her buzzing thoughts she literally walked into Alaric on her way back above deck.

"Whoa, Captain," The pirate stepped back, glancing warily from her face to the blades in her hands. "Something wrong?"

Emma shook her head. "No, I'm going to teach Regina how to swordfight."

"Right. Because that's something you hear everyday." Alaric paused, and then he gave her a strange look, eyes sparkling, a hint of a smug smile on his lips. "You're spending a lot of time with Regina lately."

"Yeah, so?" Emma shrugged defensively. She leaned back, stumbled, and then tried to look casual by hooking her thumbs through her belt loops. "It' not a lot, what's a lot?"

Alaric smirked, shaking his head. "You fox, Swan. Go on, you go get physical with the pretty lady."

"Excuse me," Emma stared. "What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

"I just meant you're going to go teach her to swing a sword." Alaric held out his hands innocently. "Why? What were you thinking?"

Emma shot him her deadliest glare. "Shut your damn face."

Then she pushed past him, hurrying back through the holds to the foredeck, heart beating in her chest and a feeling like anticipation thrumming in her veins.

-0-

"It's heavy," Regina complained, testing the pommel of the blade between her hands. It had a strange weight to it she hadn't expected. It was ugly, too: the rough leather wrappings coming undone, blade flat and grey and dull, nothing like the fancy silver swords she'd grown up around. She knew that didn't matter, but it was just a surprise.

"Should be." Emma nodded, meeting her eyes earnestly. Her blonde hair whipped around her head in the breeze. Despite the wind, it was a fair day for spring, bright and golden with sunlight. The foredeck was deserted: they'd have as much space and privacy as they ever would on this ship. Still, Regina could hear the ever-present shouts it took to keep a boat sailing. "As long as you can actually swing it, it's fine. Builds up your strength."

"Okay." Regina allowed, turning it carefully between her hands. She hated not knowing how to do something. It made her feel like some spoiled entitled princess, completely incompetent. Which was the whole point of these lessons – so she never had to feel like that. She wanted – needed – to be able to defend herself. Reliably. Not with unpredictable bursts of the magic she'd always hated. She lifted her stare back to the captain. "So what do I do?"

"For starters, you learn to hold it right." Emma scrutinised her for a moment and then stepped forward across the planking. Regina's heart leapt. Stop acting like a child with their first crush. Stop it.

She watched warily as the pirate stepped around behind her, pulse hammering in her temples. Cool wind rushing over her burning skin, Regina tried to focus and keep hold of the sword, mouth completely dry as Emma leaned forward to put her arms around her, hands resting on top of hers on the hilt of the sword.

She could feel blonde hair brushing her cheek, faint warmth radiating from her body. Shivers ran down her spine. Her hands were the calloused rough hands of a sailor, but there was a surprising gentleness in the way they laid over hers, almost tentative. Warm. Regina swallowed hard, trying to focus. "How do I –"

"Like this." Emma's voice was soft, right next to her ear. Regina felt the breath of it against her face. Gently but firmly, the pirate's rough fingers moved along hers, repositioning her grip on the sword. It reminded her of when they'd kissed, how her skin felt so much more like skin. Emma moved her hands along Regina's arms, leaving burning trails where they touched, lifting her elbows. "See?"

Regina forced a nod. She didn't trust herself to speak. Emma stepped back, jogging around in front of her. She squinted in the sun, appraising. A slow grin curled at her mouth. "Good. Feet a little more apart, balance your weight." She nodded. "Yeah, good."

"Now what?" Regina asked. Her hair was blowing in her face.

"Now," Emma grinned, sauntering forward again with her hair full of sunlight and her own blade held loosely in her hand as if it was the easiest thing in the world. "You learn how to swing."

"Isn't that it?" Regina cocked an eyebrow. That's how it had looked when the knights back home had sparred. "You just swing."

Emma laughed then. The rich, light sound of it filled the air before the wind snatched it away. It was nice. "If only."

Then she proved to Regina just how wrong she was by teaching her what it actually took to use a blade. As the day wore on and the sea grew more restless, Emma taught her the basics of swordplay – she tried blocking and attacking and how to move her feet. She was almost offended when the pirate told her it was pretty much guaranteed that any opponent she would face would be bigger and stronger than her, but then Emma taught her how to turn their strength against them, how to use her size to her advantage.

And eventually, Emma looked at her and asked whether she wanted to give her new skills a try.

"You mean – fight you?" Regina raised an eyebrow.

Emma nodded, and then a small smile quirked at her mouth. "If you're not too scared, of course."

"In your dreams, Swan." Regina shot, gripping the hilt of her sword tighter.

"Okay then," Emma's long hair flickered in the breeze as she sauntered closer across the sunlit foredeck. She flexed her wrist, swinging her own blade in a crisp arc. "But I know it's your first time. So don't expect to win. What matters is that you put up a good fight." Then she grinned. "I'll go easy on you."

Regina narrowed her eyes at her, fingers tightening around the weapon. She raised her eyebrow again, meeting the pirate's easy green stare. "Don't you dare." She smirked. "For all you know I love the hard way."

Emma's grin turned incredulous, eyes wide and fixed on her. "Well I can't say I'm surprised." The eye contact held a bit longer – too long, really. Long enough for Regina's heart to race with something other than exertion, skin turn warm from something other than the sun. Then she shook her head, voice less suggestive. "Come at me, princess."

Regina breathed in slowly, blood pumping. Then she swung her sword up to meet the pirate's first attack, ignoring the ache in her muscles. Their blades met high with a sharp glint of sunlight and a metallic ringing noise. She felt the contact in her shoulder. Breath caught in her throat, she darted back away from Emma's next lunge, buying herself enough time to step forward and land a thrust of her own. Emma met it, of course, blades kissing and springing apart in the sunlit air, but at the very last second.

A grin spread over the pirate's face. "Good!" She praised, nodding. Regina was ready for her next swing, blocking and parrying almost easily. The clanging music of their lessons was loud enough to rival the blustering winds, the rushing swelling ocean, the seagulls cawing and the men shouting on the poop deck.

Regina blocked her next attack hard, driving her back. Emma's grin widened. "Good, Regina, that's brilliant!" Regina swung again. Their blades crashed together. Sweat was gathering on her neck, adrenaline pistoling through her veins. "Higher!" Emma urged. Regina swung higher, arm muscles aching, groaning in extortion. "Higher! Come at me, princess, higher and under, you got this!"

Regina winced, pushing through the pain to raise her sword higher, slamming it against the pirate's. She saw what she meant now – if she got Emma focused on defending herself higher, she could dart in and make contact lower, across the stomach, or spin around and attack from behind – this was what she'd meant about using her stature properly. Breathless, she lunged higher still, meeting Emma's thrusts with as much aggression as she could muster.

And suddenly it was all there, everything she needed – all this rage that she could just unlock and finally, finally use. It was her mother, and it was the Dark One, and it was the king. It was every time she'd ever been made to feel weak or useless or stupid. Every time she'd been made to feel like a pawn, a weakling, a bargaining piece. And it was working.

Regina darted forward, skin buzzing, watching Emma's sword gleam in the sunlight, her blonde hair ripple through the breeze, her grin curve her cheekbones. There was her chance – she could do it now, but – did she go around or thrust straight? If she went straight the captain could block her at the last minute, granted she was fast enough...

She darted awkwardly over the wooden planking, trying to go for her side, and the next thing she knew the hilt of her sword was knocked from her fingers and metal was clattering to the deck. Strong arms were thrown tight around her, pinning her own arms against her sides, legs against hers, feet between hers, keeping her from moving.

Regina stared at the planks beneath her, chest rising and falling rapidly as her breath fell back into order, lungs burning. She could feel Emma's long hair tickling the side of her face, breath against her ear. Heat prickled over her skin.

"You missed your chance. You paused too long." Emma's voice was strained and breathless, her arms locked tight around Regina's small frame. Their cutlasses caught the light, glinting on the wooden deck. "And you lost."

Regina breathed in carefully, watching the sun glancing off the metal. "Maybe I'm exactly where I want to be."

Her words hung in the air for a moment like soap bubbles. The minute they left her lips she knew there was no going back. No taking them back. She listened to the implications echo and the sound of the sea rushing and her heart beating, pulse thumping in her veins. She could hear Emma's breath catch beside her ear. Regina sensed the shift in their air between them.

Then Emma released her, stepping back hesitantly. "That's a really good start, princess. I think we can call that a day with the sparring." Regina glanced over at her, cheeks hot. The blonde was staring at her with her head slightly cocked, arms folded. "You know, princess, I'm not usually in the business of giving out free combat lessons."

"Well then, maybe I can teach you something in return." Regina countered. "Hygiene, maybe." She pretended to consider. "Manners."

Emma rolled her eyes, but the dazzling grin didn't waver for a second. She took a few measured steps towards Regina, curling ends of her hair lifting in the breeze. Her green eyes were trained on hers. She only stopped when she was close enough for Regina to see the sheen of sweat on her flushed cheeks, the reflection of the rising tide in her gaze. "Dancing."