The calm seas did little to diminish the unease Lieutenant Killian Jones felt.
A gnawing feeling had settled in his chest not long before the Jewel of the Realm had left port—when their passengers for this voyage had boarded.
One was a woman of roughly sixty, with dark brown hair streaked with gray and chestnut eyes, and the other two passengers were her armed escorts. The woman had smiled as his older brother Liam—the captain of their ship—had helped her onboard the vessel, but the smile just didn't seem genuine. Something else was in that gaze of hers. Killian could sense it, and he'd shared those concerns with his brother.
"Stop your worrying, little brother," Liam had replied. "The king has tasked us with an important quest. Lady Cora is going to lead us to a means of peacefully ending these ceaseless wars. The king has assured me of this."
"Younger brother," had been Killian's response. He rarely argued with his brother about their responsibilities on the ship. Killian knew the importance of duty and good form, and he was always willing to hear Liam's guidance on those subjects. When it came to the adjectives Liam used to describe him, though, Killian often felt the need to correct his older brother.
Liam's explanation of King Francis' current mission for the Jewel had appealed to Killian. It sounded like the Jones brothers had received a noble assignment, one that would show their honor and worth. This hero's quest would finally bring peace to their realm, but even that fact couldn't change Killian's view of Lady Cora. She might have a role to play in this, but she still made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, and no matter what his brother said, Killian couldn't shake the feeling.
"This task will be over in a matter of days," Liam had reminded him.
They'd made it through one day of this journey so far. Killian just hoped the remaining days would pass, and that his brother would be proved right—that they were going to save the people of their homeland, and that Killian's doubts about Lady Cora were misplaced.
Princess Emma wore her hunting frock as she scaled down one of the side walls of the castle. It wasn't an easy task, and she couldn't have managed it in the more ornate gowns she wore to perform her royal duties. She needed this simple dress to help keep her balance and her grip.
As she looked to the ground—still more than twenty feet below her—she wondered if she had done anything so reckless in her life.
Emma knew her parents probably could have provided a few examples. They always considered her to be too adventurous for her own good, but she was the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming. Could they really be surprised that she was bolder than a princess should be?
But this might be crossing a line, a voice in her head warned as Emma continued her descent. The voice sounded oddly like her godmother, Lady Regina.
Regina meant the world to Emma. Regina had help to raise her, and she had even taught Emma how to control the magic within her.
Emma's magic would have made her progress down the wall much easier, but there was also a possibility that Regina might sense Emma using her magic. Emma couldn't risk that. She needed to do this on her own.
This was Emma's chance to find true love.
She'd received the first letter from Baelfire just over a month ago. Emma had met the Dark One's son not long before that. He had arrived at her parents' castle with his father, who sought to make a deal with the royal couple. The Dark One's offer would mean an end to the war that had raged on for years with King Francis' kingdom, but as Regina often said, "All magic comes with a price."
Emma never heard the Dark One's price for his assistance; all she knew was that her parents were unwilling to pay it. She could understand their decision. The Dark One wasn't known for fair or kind deals.
Emma had been walking through the Great Hall as the Dark One and his son were preparing to leave. She'd curtsied before them, and when she looked up, Emma's eyes had met Baelfire's. No words passed between them—just that look, and then the father and son had disappeared in a cloud of smoke.
Her mind had drifted back to that look in the days that followed. There was a sadness in Baelfire's eyes, but there was also a glimmer of hope when he looked at her. Emma didn't understand it, but something about that look haunted her.
Then the letter had arrived. Deposited on her windowsill by a raven, the scroll was not lengthy, but it described the impression that Emma had left upon Baelfire. He too had felt a connection during their brief meeting, and now this letter asked for Emma's permission for them to begin a correspondence.
It had felt exhilarating to read his words and to compose her own response. He made it seem as if he already knew her through his understanding of her duties and her magic, and all of the concerns that came with those responsibilities. Baelfire's letters showed true interest in Emma in a way no suitor had ever displayed.
Her former admirers had always arrived at court speaking of her beauty or sweetness, but Emma could read people. She knew that they were more interested in a throne or the wealth of her kingdom than they were in her.
Thankfully, her parents had never pushed her into a match. They wanted her to be able to find love, just as they had. And now Emma had reason to believe she might be close to finding it.
Baelfire's letters contained so much hope and possibility. He was certain that together, he and Emma could convince his father to aid Emma's kingdom at no cost. They would stop the war with Francis, and Misthaven could once again prosper.
She reached the ground with that thought in her mind, and her now free hand grasped the silver swan pendant that Baelfire had included in one of his letters. Emma wanted to make sure she hadn't lost it during the climb down.
Emma was finally meeting with Baelfire tonight, after sharing so many thoughts and dreams with him. She wanted to have the necklace on to show him that his gift meant something to her—that he meant something to her.
She knew it wasn't proper to meet with a man unchaperoned, but Baelfire's words had spoken directly to her heart. From his letters, Emma could tell he was a good man with good intentions. He'd said that he wanted to tell her his plans tonight for how he would ask for her parents' blessing to court her. His only request was to tell her this in person, rather than through parchment and ink.
And Emma had agreed. Her mother always told her to trust her heart, and her heart had brought her this far tonight. She knew she needed to follow it for only a half mile further—to the edge of the forest, where Baelfire would be waiting.
"Emma!" she heard a voice cry out quietly as she entered the forest.
She turned toward the voice and saw Baelfire. He and his black horse were illuminated by the moonlight.
He smiled at her, and she couldn't help but smile back.
"Did you have any trouble leaving the castle?" he asked.
"No," she replied. "I apparently know the castle better than the guards."
Baelfire chuckled at that, but then an awkward silence followed. Emma found it odd—words passed so easily between them in their letters. Why did things feel so different now?
"How was your journey here?" Emma asked, trying to end the uncomfortable moment.
"Not bad," he answered. "I got here earlier than I'd expected."
"That's good," she replied, before trying to find another topic of conversation. "So what do you think of it?" Emma asked, resting her hand on her chest just below the necklace.
"What?" Baelfire questioned. "The necklace?"
His reaction confused Emma. There didn't appear to be recognition in his eyes.
"You sent this to me three letters ago," she stated. "You said that I reminded you of a swan the first time you saw me."
"Of course I did," he replied, trying to sound confident, but Emma took a step back—a feeling of worry entering her mind.
"Wait," Baelfire said, taking a step back himself. "I'm sorry. I'm flustered to speak to you directly. I guess that's why I wrote to you. It just seems easier to form the words on paper than in person."
"But you said you wanted to meet in person?"
"Right," Baelfire said quickly. "You're right. I did want us to meet here, face-to-face. Seeing you that day and in the letters we wrote after, I see some hope for the future with you."
There was truth in his words, Emma could tell, but there was something else too. She couldn't place it. She didn't know if it was just nerves, or if she'd built this moment up so much in her mind that anything short of perfection seemed disappointing.
And then there was her father's voice in the back of her head saying, "If something doesn't feel right, listen to your gut and run."
Emma shook her head slightly at that. Looking back at Baelfire, she thought of the kind words that had filled his letters, and the potential for peace for her kingdom.
It was nerves—it had to be.
"Based on your letters, I'm guessing your father doesn't know about our meeting?" Emma asked.
"No, he doesn't," Baelfire answered. "And I'd recommend not mentioning his name. Doing that sort of invites him to join any conversation."
"I won't," Emma replied. Trying to find common ground in their conversation, she added, "My parents don't know about our meeting either."
"That's probably for the best. I don't know that your parents would've approved—of the letters or of this meeting," he said, with a sly smile on his face.
"You're right. My father probably would have challenged you to a duel for being so forward."
"Well then, I guess we'll just have to make the most of tonight," he said, stepping closer and extending his hand to her. "Come for a ride with me?"
"I thought we were only going to talk tonight—about what you're going to say to my parents when you do ask for their permission to court me," she replied.
"Right," Baelfire said, making it once again seem like he'd forgotten what he'd written to her. "I guess I just want to start sharing things with you. I can understand if you're not ready."
His tone sounded hurt, as he turned away from her.
"Wait," Emma said, trying to calm the nerves that were plaguing her this evening. "I do want to share things with you. We've shared so much in our letters already. I just want to be prepared to let my parents know what's between us."
"I understand," he replied softly, looking back at her. "May I ask for one thing first—before we decide how to tell your parents?"
Emma nodded silently in reply.
"May I kiss you?" he asked.
Emma was taken aback. None of her prior suitors had reached this point. She'd never had enough of a connection with any of them to allow it, but now, the words from Baelfire's letters ran through her mind.
You have such a true and pure heart…
I've lived with magic for nearly my entire life. I understand the struggles you've no doubt faced, and I can help you going forward…
You will make a great queen one day…
His words hit upon her deepest fears—that she wouldn't be able to live up to her parents' expectations, that she might not be able to handle the magic inside of her, and that she might not be good enough. As heir to her parents' throne, she knew how easy it would be for her to fail in one way or another, but Baelfire's words had comforted her.
Together, imagine the people we could save, and the world we could build…
We could be heroes, just like your parents…
Her parents' love had been sealed with a kiss over twenty years ago, and there was a chance for this to be her moment with Baelfire.
"Yes," she whispered, and he quickly crossed the distance between them.
It wasn't what she'd expected. His right hand had gone behind her neck, squeezing there and pulling her toward him. His lips against hers felt careless and completely wrong. She tried to pull back when she felt something being pressed against her right wrist.
Baelfire released her then, and she looked down to see a leather cuff on her lower arm. A feeling of cold swept through her body, but she knew there was no wind or storm in the air tonight.
"What did you do?" Emma demanded of Baelfire.
"What needed to be done," Baelfire replied, a harsh tone in his voice as he walked to his horse.
"What are you talking about?"
"Everything comes with a price—not just magic," he answered. "You're the price I have to pay to get what I need in life."
Baelfire had a small bag in one hand and a rope in the other as he turned back around to face her.
Emma knew she was in a dangerous situation now, but she'd had years of training from Regina and her father to prepare her for a fight.
Her first instinct was to use her magic. She tried to follow her feelings just as Regina had taught her, but there was nothing—not even a faint glow of magic from her hands.
Baelfire must have seen Emma looking at her hands, as he said, "The cuff won't let you use your magic. Now how about we do this the easy way."
When the magic failed, Emma wasn't going to just give up. She grabbed a large wooden branch from the forest floor and prepared to defend herself.
"Just give up already, princess," Baelfire said. "You're not going to win this."
"What makes you so certain?" Emma asked.
"You learned your lessons from good people—on the light side of magic," he answered. "Do you know who I learned my lessons from?"
A shiver of fear ran down her spine at Baelfire's words, but still she stood, prepared to face him.
"Very well," Baelfire sighed. "The hard way it is."
He opened the bag in his hand and tossed the contents toward her. Green powder flew through the air and slowly turned into the shape of a serpent.
Emma tried to swing at it with the branch, but it was no use. The branch went through the powder, breaking the serpent for just a moment before it reformed. The snake then wound its way around her neck several times before Emma felt a piercing pain just below her ear.
The creature may have been made of powder, but its bite was as painful as a knife.
She cried out as she lost the ability to stand. Emma was on the ground, and the world around her was becoming hazy. Through the fog, she could see Baelfire approaching.
"I would say sweet dreams, princess," he said darkly. "But I know there's only nightmares ahead for you."