Author's Note: Apologies for the delay-an unrelated Captain Swan one-shot (or perhaps three-shot) for Valentine's Day has been stealing my attention.

I want to thank everyone for your continuing support of this story, and I hope you enjoy the adventures that lie ahead for Emma and Killian. As mentioned, this story will pull from OUAT, other sources, and my own imagination. I would greatly appreciate your feedback as I continue to develop these characters and their storylines.

And, as always, thank you for reading.

Killian watched the shoreline as the Jewel completed its circle around the small island.

There were no ports along the coast, nor were there any other signs of civilization that he could discern amongst the thick vegetation and uneven terrain of the island.

He didn't know if he should be worried or relieved at the lack of human life visible.

Without other people present, they would have an easier time restocking their supplies. They were also at a lower risk of running into the less savory folk that Rumplestiltskin had warned them about the previous evening. Killian didn't know what other beings were cursed to this place, but his preference was to avoid as many of them as possible.

If the stories of the Timeless Sea were true, several dark creatures of legend had been banished here through the ages—and many of them had not returned. Killian didn't know if it was because they'd met their end here or if they'd chosen to stay, even after they'd completed the time they owed.

Killian wasn't sure about the particulars of the curse surrounding this Sea, but he'd decided to let his crew know their location this morning. He'd called everyone up to the deck and informed them of the waters in which they currently sailed.

He wanted to be open with them. The only facts he'd withheld from his crew were the source of this information and the price the Dark One would accept for their freedom from this place. He wasn't going to risk Swan's safety like that.

Killian had given his men options, though, based on the tales he knew of the Timeless Sea. All that the stories of his youth had said was to keep moving through this place. Whether that meant the Jewel should stay sailing on the water for twenty-eight years or if they could simply stay on an island and walk in circles each day, the stories were unclear. Killian recommended to his crew that they keep the Jewel sailing, stopping only to replenish their supplies or to search for any means of returning home faster. Their only other option was to set up camp on some habitable island like the one they'd just found and hope that they were transported back to their realm at the end of twenty-eight years.

Killian was grateful that the majority of his crew had agreed with his plan. The few dissenters didn't vocalize much opposition—they just seemed upset to learn their current fate.

"They'll come round," Warren had said to him after the meeting with the crew. "They just need time to accept the hand Fate's dealt them."

"You and the other men seem to be handling the news well," Killian replied.

"I've seen you and your brother guide this ship through many a storm, Captain," Warren stated. "You'll get us through this too."

His first mate had returned to the helm then, and Killian was left hoping that the man's faith in him wasn't misplaced.

Approaching the island, the crew recognized that the waters were too shallow for the Jewel. They prepared the longboats so that a small party could investigate the island and begin collecting supplies. Killian's plan was to oversee the mission to the island, accompanied by five of his men. Warren would have command of the ship in his absence.

"Captain?" Murphy said from behind him.

"What is it, lad?" he asked, already certain that he knew what the deckhand was going to ask him.

"Beg pardon, sir, but Miss Swan is asking if she can go ashore with you," the young man replied.

"Remind our guest that the Jewel is a safer place for her," Killian said.

"Aye, sir, I did that already, but she insisted that I ask you."

"And did she have any other requests?" Killian asked.

"One, sir," Murphy answered. "She said if it seemed likely you'd say no, I was to ask you to speak with her before you depart."

Killian was torn. He'd already disagreed with the princess earlier that morning on whether she could join the landing party.

They'd discussed the subject after they'd gone through Cora's things and found no way to return home. Swan had said she might be able to make a few balms and remedies based on the supplies in the chest, but nothing powerful enough to bring them back.

"What if there's something on the island?" she'd asked.

"If my men and I find anything, we'll bring it back to the ship," Killian had told her.

"And before yesterday, would you have known to bring a bean back to the ship?"

"Then tell me what else I should look for, and I'll bring it back to you."

She'd released a frustrated sigh at that. "I can't list off all the possibilities."

"Well then, I suppose you'll just have to make do with whatever the men and I bring back to the ship," he'd replied, before leaving the cabin and returning above deck.

Now she was apparently summoning him back. Killian knew she had a valid argument, but he also recognized the dangers in exploring an unknown island—especially one in the middle of a cursed sea. There were too many risks involved in bringing her ashore.

He knocked on the cabin door, and the princess invited him to enter—but the woman in front of him didn't look the same as the one he'd seen earlier that morning.

She'd plaited her hair back and replaced her dress with a pair of tan breeches and a tunic—both of which she'd managed to fashion so that they hugged her frame tightly. Over those layers, she wore a gray vest and the burgundy coat she'd claimed the day before. The sleeves now appeared to be rolled up more securely.

"My lady, I'm not certain why you've called me here, but there's nothing you can say that will change my mind on this subject," Killian stated before she could speak. "I don't care that you're now dressed for walking about a strange island. Your new wardrobe won't protect you from whatever hazards may lie in wait there."

"You're right," she said, catching him off guard.

"I am?" he questioned.

"Of course," Swan replied. "I simply wanted to wish you luck before you departed."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Thank you, my lady," Killian said, feeling relieved.

"You're welcome, Captain," she said.

He bowed and turned to leave just as she added, "And one more thing—if Cora shows up while you're gone, I will inform her that you have unsettled business with her."

Killian spun on his heel to face Swan once more. "We haven't seen Cora in days. There's no reason to think she'll show up today."

"And there's also no way to know for certain that she won't show up today while you're gone," she replied. "The only thing we do know for certain is that when she does show up, she'll show up for me."

There was a finality to her tone that bothered Killian, and what was worse, he knew that she was right.

He needed to find some sort of justice for his brother, and the only way he could think to accomplish that task was through vengeance against Cora. Only the witch wasn't interested in his need for revenge; she was after Swan. Once Cora had her, both women would be gone, and Killian would still be stuck in this cursed place with twenty-eight years separating him from his quarry.

If he allowed Swan to stay with him, though, there might be a chance. Perhaps he could find a means of fighting Cora when she appeared, or perhaps the witch would drop her guard when she went after the princess. But no matter how the possible scenarios played out in his mind, there was always one common factor—Swan.

She might be in danger if she went to the island with him, but wouldn't she be in greater danger if Cora came onboard the ship to claim her—especially without him there to guard her? His men could provide some protection for the princess, but none of them had his reasons for feeling personally responsible for her safety.

"You are not to leave my side while we are off the ship" Killian said finally, in the same tone he used to issue orders to his crew. He could tell he had her attention with those words, so he continued, "If I tell you to run, you will do so. If I tell you to hide, you will do so. In fact, any order that I give, you are to follow—is that understood?"

"Aye, Captain," Swan said. She smiled at him, but not mockingly. She was happy he was agreeing to her request—even if she'd forced him to accept it.

"If we're separated while on the island, you will return to the longboats and wait for someone to return you to the ship," Killian stated, trying to prepare for worst case scenarios. "In such a case, we'll also need to work out a means for you to navigate back to the landing point."

"I have a decent sense of direction," she replied.

"A decent sense of direction may not be enough in an unfamiliar jungle," Killian said before making his way across the cabin. He retrieved a key from his pocket and opened a trunk containing his brother's belongings. "Do you know how to use a compass?" he asked, handing her a golden, round object.

"Yes," she answered, stowing the compass in her vest pocket.

"Good," he stated. "Thankfully, they still seem to work in this place. We'll be landing on the western side of the island and heading east as we explore, which means—"

"Which means I would need to head west to make it back to the boats," she interrupted.

"Yes, and should you encounter anything on the island, do your best to run or hide as I've said, but if those options are not available," he said, reaching for a small cutlass in the trunk, "use this to defend yourself."

Swan took the blade from him without hesitation and unsheathed it.

"You should be careful with that," Killian insisted, concern clear in his voice. "I only expect you to draw that weapon if you have no other choice."

"Captain, I've studied swordsmanship since I was three," she replied, stepping back from him. She spun the blade a few times with her wrist, and Killian could tell she was testing its weight and familiarizing herself with its grip.

"You're not a typical princess, are you?" he asked, surprised at the skill behind her movement.

"Well, I don't think my father cared that I was a princess," she said, with light mirth in her tone. "He wanted his first child to learn how to sword fight."

She sheathed the blade and attached it to her belt.

"Anything else that we need to bring with us?" Swan asked.

"My men are gathering the other supplies. We should be prepared to depart shortly," Killian replied. "Are you ready to leave?"

"Yes," she answered.

"Very well," he said. "We can head above deck and prepare to cast off."

She nodded before following him out of the room.

Emma recognized several of the crewmen traveling with them to the island. Hale, a tall, broad-shouldered man with a deep tan and a dark blue kerchief around his neck, rowed the boat carrying Emma and the Captain. Four other men were in the second boat.

When they arrived at the beach, Jones disembarked first and approached Emma, offering her his hand. She didn't think that she needed his assistance to make the small step out of the boat, so she hesitated before accepting his help.

Emma was glad to have his support a moment later, as she felt the ground sway beneath her feet. His other hand quickly went to her waist to steady her.

"Argo doesn't discuss regaining your land legs in any of his treatises," Jones said to her softly.

"No, he doesn't," she agreed, flushing at the contact and hoping the Captain didn't notice. She'd received a hand or an arm from countless knights or guards throughout her life; she didn't understand why his brief touch affected her so.

"It will get better with time," he reassured her, and from the look on his face, she realized he was referring to her land legs, rather than the feeling he stirred within her.

The Captain then turned his attention back to his crewmen and divided their party. A slender man with dark red hair named Pickett was to remain on the shore, gather coconuts from the nearby trees, and guard the boats. Hale and a stout man named Gibbons were to head straight into the jungle before them, and the other two men were sent on a route to the northeast. Emma and the Captain would venture southeast, according to the plan.

Jones took the lead as they walked into the jungle, and Emma followed closely behind him, keeping her eyes peeled and her senses open for any trace of magic. Every twenty paces, the Captain used his knife to mark an "X" on a tree.

"Are those marks meant to aid us should the compass stop working?" she asked.

"Aye, and to serve as reminders of ground we've already covered," he replied. "I've also been looking to see if there are any other marks from prior visitors to this island. So far, I've seen none."

"Is that unusual?" Emma asked.

"Marking one's path is a common enough practice in our realm, but who's to say what we should expect here," he answered.

"I remember seeing hunters do something similar in my country," she noted, recalling hunts that her godfather Robin would lead through the forests of Misthaven.

"I imagine hunters would find it useful in tracking their prey," Jones said. "Explorers often see it as a way of mapping out an area even when they don't have an actual map in hand."

"Have you explored many uncharted places?" Emma asked, as they reached a steep slope in the landscape.

"Some," he answered, before easily jumping to the ground below. Without much thought, he turned around and put his hands on her waist to help her down. Emma placed her hands on his shoulders for support, and soon her feet were on the surface. She looked up to see the Captain's face only inches away from hers. Their eyes met for just a moment before Jones suddenly seemed to recognize their proximity.

He pulled away briskly, turning away from her and running his fingers through his hair, and Emma was left debating whether she should question his reaction or leave it be.

He decided for her as he regained his composure and then began speaking on the previous subject.

"My brother and I were only able to journey through uncharted seas for a brief time before being called back to Eirinn," he explained. "Pirates have been taking an interest in Francis' navy over the last few years. The Jewel was needed closer to home as a result."

"I haven't heard of an increase in piracy in Misthaven's waters," Emma said. "Our merchant vessels occasionally run into trouble on the open seas, but attacks on our navy have been very rare."

"Understandable," Jones replied. "There's more reward to be gained from plundering a merchant ship, and there's more risk involved in attacking an armed naval vessel. That's why pirates generally prefer to pursue the former over the latter."

"Why do you think they're going after Francis' navy then?" she asked, curious to hear more of the Captain's story, but also interested to learn of a potential weak spot in Francis' military forces.

"I can't say for certain," he answered. "They've never been fool enough to take on the Jewel. As for the other ships that were attacked, it might be the result of some grudge held against Eirinn or its king. Knowing more about Francis, I believe he's capable of inspiring animosity in others."

Emma agreed with Jones' thoughts, and tucked away the information she'd just learned about Eirinn's navy. If she could make it home, perhaps Misthaven could form some arrangement with these pirates in exchange for their assistance in the war.

"You're fortunate that pirates never went after your ship," she said to him. "I can't imagine how horrifying it would be to have such an experience."

"I didn't always serve upon the Jewel," he replied somberly.

From the way he'd spoken about his current ship, it sounded as if he'd been onboard her for years. Jones didn't appear to be that much older than her, so she wondered how long the sea had been his life.

"My brother Liam and I worked on a merchant ship, the Kingfisher, before we joined the navy," Jones explained. "One night, we were attacked and boarded, but we managed to hold the pirates off. Unfortunately, though, several lives were lost in the fight."

"How awful, Captain. I'm so sorry you had to go through that sort of experience," Emma said.

"It's been some years now since it happened. I was eight at the time," he answered, matter-of-factly.

"Eight?" she exclaimed in surprise and stopped walking. "That's too young to be in service. Did your father work on the vessel? Is that why you were there?"

"It's not a tale I care to recount, your highness," he stated firmly, clearly not wanting to discuss the subject further. He halted and turned back to look at her. "There must be something more agreeable about which we can converse. Perhaps you can tell me what a princess who's mastered magic and sword fighting knows about piracy."

"The only story I have about piracy is rather trivial," Emma admitted.

"Sounds delightful," Jones replied, extending his arm out to signal that they should resume their walk as they spoke.

"Just over two years ago," she began, as she treaded carefully through the jungle, "my parents held a masquerade ball for my eighteenth birthday. It was a normal enough event for what it was, until one of the guests informed me that he was a pirate."

"Forgive me," the Captain interrupted, "but if it was a masquerade, is it not possible that the man was just pretending to be a pirate?"

"That's what I thought as well," she answered. "But not long after he spoke to me, there was a scuffle on the grounds between the man and a few of our guards. The man was able to escape, but not before also telling the guards that he was a pirate. Why would he keep up the act in such a situation?"

"Perhaps he was inebriated," Jones suggested.

"He didn't seem to be," Emma replied.

"Very well," he said, brows furrowing in contemplation. "The man wasn't a guest, as shown by his altercation with the guards. But was there any other proof he was a pirate—other than his statement to that effect? Did anyone report anything stolen?"

"He only confessed to stealing one thing," she answered. "And no one else reported anything stolen."

"What did he steal?" the Captain asked.

"This is the part you'll think silly," Emma answered, thinking back on the evening as Jones once again gave her a hand to help her traverse the landscape. She didn't look him in the eye as she said, "He stole a dance."

"The pirate stole a dance?" he repeated, laughter in his tone. "Let me guess—with the princess who was celebrating her birthday?" he inquired.

"Yes," she admitted reluctantly.

"Pardon my ignorance on the matter, your highness, but isn't stealing a dance a common occurrence at such balls? Don't people cut in from time to time?"

"No, not among the marriageable members of royal families," she explained, frustration evident in her tone. "That's one of the main reasons I've always hated that sort of party. Dance cards are filled a month in advance, and refusing one of the scheduled dances or trying to change partners can be viewed as one country slighting another. Some kingdoms have started wars over such pointless offenses—as I was often reminded before such events."

"Someone wanted to make sure you followed orders," he said. "Should I preface all of my requests to you with the warning that you may start a war if they are not followed?"

"You could try it, Captain," she replied with a smile, "but I'm not sure how well that tactic will work for you."

"So I take it the pirate's stolen dance didn't cause some sort of conflict to begin between Misthaven and another country?" Jones asked.

"No, it didn't," Emma answered. "I suppose the Duke I was scheduled to dance with couldn't blame me for the actions of a pirate."

"And the Duke didn't try to cut in?"

"Well, that was another reason why we believed the man actually was a pirate," she explained. "A few hours later, the Duke was found tied up in a storeroom."

"It sounds as if that pirate was determined," the Captain said before a concerned look appeared on his face. "He didn't harm you, did he?"

"No, no one was seriously harmed that night—well, other than the Duke's pride perhaps," Emma answered.

She could remember clearly how flustered the Duke had been after he'd been found, and how angry their guards were that the man had escaped. Despite how vivid these memories seemed, her recollection of the pirate from that night was less detailed. She could recall his bold words, his humor, and his wit much more than his features, but perhaps that was simply because of the mask he wore.

A familiar sound distracted Emma from her reminiscence. It was as if something were drumming in short, repeated bursts against the trees above them.

"Do you hear that?" she asked the Captain, as she looked up.

"Aye," he said.

She caught sight of a small bird flying from one tree to the next. When it settled, Emma could see a bright red crown of feathers on its head before the creature once again drilled its beak almost frantically against another tree.

"Are woodpeckers common on tropical islands?" she asked, unnerved by the agitated movements and sounds from the bird.

"No, they're not," Jones replied, as he also watched the woodpecker.

It continued to circle them ominously, beating against the trees around them. Emma was so preoccupied by the bird, she didn't notice the Captain's approaching hand until his fingers began to weave in between hers.

"Stay close to me," he whispered.

An odd grunt from several feet ahead of them caught their attention, and Jones drew his sword.

A large, wild pig emerged from behind a bush and began pacing in front of them, squealing anxiously.

"What the devil is possessing these creatures?" the Captain asked, just as Emma caught sight of a dark blue cloth wrapped around the pig's neck.

The cloth was identical to the kerchief Hale had been wearing earlier.

"Captain," she began—hoping her suspicions were wrong but knowing that there was a chance they were right. "I don't think these are just creatures. I think they might be—"

"Your companions," a woman's voice interrupted from behind them.

Jones turned them quickly, keeping their hands interlocked and drawing Emma behind him, as they faced the woman.

She was beautiful—Emma could see that immediately. The woman had light red hair, kissed by streaks of blonde in the sunlight, and her skin was radiant and smooth. Emma suddenly realized as she stared that she could see entirely too much of the woman's skin. She wore a thin lavender dress made of silk that draped down from her neck, leaving her arms, sides, and the dip between her breasts exposed.

"Are you thieves, like your associates?" the woman asked.

"We are not thieves," the Captain stated. "We are in need of supplies, and we are more than willing to make payment for them."

"I've already started collecting my payment," she replied, gesturing to the pig that appeared to be Hale and the woodpecker that Emma now thought was Pickett.

"Why would you do something like that?" Emma demanded.

"Because this is my island," the woman answered harshly, "and no one steals from Circe."