Anamchara

by kymbersmith90

In the middle of a city center is a beautiful bronze statue of a woman. Legend states that she's the daughter of a local barley farmer, cursed by a jealous witch to spend eternity frozen as a statue – until the touch of her soulmate breaks the curse. It's been almost two-hundred-and-fifty years, and nobody's woken her… yet.

2. Part II

County Carlow, Ireland, 1769

A rattling cough rang out around the small hut; the windows were practically vibrating with the force of it.

Emma pushed gently on her father's shoulders and then reached for the damp cloth beside the bed. "You need to rest, Papa."

"No, I need to go to market." Another cough, this one wetter than the last, and Emma cringed at the way it seemed to drain all of her father's energy. "If I do not go, we will be unable to pay this month's taxes."

"I shall go."

"You ca–"

Emma helped support her father as he coughed into a handkerchief, then passed him a small cup of water.

"I can. Mr Miller has offered to ride with me since he has business in town. He will protect me, Papa."

David shook his head against the pillow, but it only seemed to make the coughing worse. Emma hated seeing him so sick. She knew that this disease had already worked its way through many of the townspeople: killing plenty in its path. Her father had tried to hide the truth from her for so long, and she could only hope that his stubborn determination to provide for his family would not end up being his ultimate downfall.

Casting off those morbid thoughts, Emma dipped her rag back into the bowl of cool water beside the bed, squeezed it out, and placed it upon her father's forehead.

"I have to go, Papa. You must rest," she urged, rising to her feet as she reached for her worn travelling cloak. "I will be back at sundown."

David's hand shot out to wrap around her wrist, and Emma tried her hardest not to notice just how weak his grasp was.

"Be careful," he begged.

"I always am, Papa."

With those four words, she pulled open the front door, cast another quick look over her father's shivering form, and then quickly closed it behind her. Emma did not want to think this may very well be the last time she ever saw him alive, but the idea plagued her thoughts throughout her entire journey from their small farm on the outskirts of the village to the town centre.

Once there, Mr Miller helped her unload the grains from the wagon before he made his way over to his own plot and began setting out his week's harvest.

Emma had been to market with her father many times before, especially as a little girl, but she had forgotten just how long and boring the days could be. Normally, she would have run off to explore the area and all of the exciting scenery it had to offer that their little farm could never hope to provide. But without her father there to watch over their harvest, she could not possibly leave her post. The last thing she wanted to do was return home without their barley and no coin to show for it.

Thankfully, her father's best customer arrived early in the morning with a few of his own men, all pushing large wheelbarrows.

"Miss Nolan, it is a pleasure to see you again."

"You too, Mr Guinness," Emma greeted, standing to offer the man her hand. He promptly pressed a kiss to the back of it.

"What brings you to market this fine day?" he asked, turning to scan the area, likely looking for her father.

"Papa is unwell," she reluctantly admitted, "And we have taxes to pay."

"I am so sorry to hear that," Mr Guinness offered; there was a genuine note of concern filling his voice. "If there is anything I can do, please do not hesitate to ask."

"Thank you, Sir."

"May we?" he inquired, gesturing towards the larger sacks of grain that Mr Miller had unloaded when the sun was lower in the sky.

"Of course."

Emma watched as the men with Mr Guinness helped themselves to almost half of her harvest that morning, throwing sacks of grain into the wheelbarrows they had with them like they were throwing around rolls of parchment. When they were finished, Mr Guinness stepped forward once more and handed Emma a small pouch of coins.

"I have included a little extra this time for the wonderful service we received this morning," he said, with a small wink. "Take care of yourself, Miss Nolan, and send my best wishes to your father for a speedy recovery."

"Thank you, Sir. That is most kind of you."

Mr Guinness tipped his hat in her direction before turning on his heels to head back to wherever he had come from. Emma waited until she could no longer see him before she pulled open the pouch and peered inside. She was certain she had never seen as many coins as she was holding at that moment, so she quickly tightened the strings and then slipped the whole thing into the bust of her dress for safekeeping.

---

Mr Miller returned to Emma's little plot of the market when the sun was at its peak, offering to take over for a while so she could wander about the stalls and pick up something to eat. Apparently, her father used to do the same for him, and Mr Miller wanted to return the favour.

Emma thanked him profusely before hurrying off, excited to explore the town a little without her father's overbearing presence. She strolled up and down the lines of small stalls, pausing here and there to examine the different items for sale. A local was selling different animals he had whittled from wood, and Emma found herself taking a moment just to watch as he worked on what appeared to be a small swan. There were luxuriously woven scarfs made from imported silk depicting faraway lands that Emma could only dream of visiting; and handmade gowns that she would never be able to afford. But best of all, there was every kind of food imaginable for her to build a lunch.

When she had an apple, a small chunk of bread, and a wedge of cheese in her hands, Emma wandered a little further out of the marketplace, looking for somewhere to sit. Eventually, she came across a patch of grass where a few young children were running around and decided that it would do perfectly. She elegantly lowered herself down to the ground, arranging her skirts neatly to cover her legs, before she began unwrapping her food.

While she ate, Emma watched the children around her play their games. Occasionally, women or men from the market would stop by to check on them, but mostly, they were left alone to enjoy the gradually warming day.

Emma had just finished her bread and cheese when one little boy sent the ball they were kicking around flying over her head and down towards the docks. The kids all seemed to freeze in place before they turned to look at each other, almost as if to say they thought their friend should be the one to retrieve the ball. Before anyone could move, however, a voice rang out from somewhere just behind Emma.

"Did someone lose a ball?"

As one, the group of children all turned to look at the person who had spoken. Emma watched as their faces shifted from annoyed and worried to elated and excited in a fraction of a moment.

"Captain Jones!" one little girl declared, as she turned on her heels and ran towards the man now making his way up the cobbled street.

"Hello, Miss Amy," he greeted, as he handed the ball to one of the young boys who had also approached him. "And how are you doing this fine day?"

The little girl called Amy blushed and giggled, and Emma could fully understand why. The man who was approaching the small clearing was nothing short of breathtaking. He was dressed in the soft white and dark navy blue uniform she had seen on the other sailors. His blue eyes were twinkling with affection, and his long hair was pulled back at the base of his neck. Emma was certain she had never seen anyone as beautiful as this man before.

Captain Jones took a moment to speak with each of the children who ran over to greet him, then began pulling off his heavy jacket and rolling up his sleeves. With a slight incline of his head, the ball was dropped, and play resumed. It was almost as if there had never been an interruption. The children were clearly used to Captain Jones joining their games.

Emma bit into her apple as she watched Captain Jones run around the field, delicately stealing the ball every now and then before he let someone else take it from him. He kept pace with the children well, passing it back and forth as they moved around until one young boy kicked it between two wooden blocks set down on the grass. The children shared a cheer as he did, so Emma set down her apple and brought her hands together in a loud clap as she called out, "Bravo! Well played!"

All eyes on the field swung her way, including those of Captain Jones. He seemed a little startled to see her sitting there, but once the initial shock had worn off, he offered Emma a polite smile and tip of his head, then turned his attention back to the game he was playing with the children.

---

After lunch, Emma returned to her small plot to relieve Mr Miller, settling onto a stool behind her harvest. Mr Guinness had been the reason she had made the trip to town, but now she was there, she was determined to make the most of the occasion – just as her father always did.

Throughout the afternoon, men and women would drift her way, looking for barley for their recipes - and even asking for ways in which it could be prepared. Emma was not exactly an expert in that area – truth be told, she could not stand the sight of the stuff most days – but she offered advice wherever she could and gladly took the coin offered to her in exchange for a small sack of the grain. Between sales, she would sit and work on her knitting. She wanted to make a warmer blanket for her father, now that summer was drawing to a close, and watching the people go about their lives only proved interesting for the first few hours of the day.

When a shadow fell over her stool, Emma turned to pack away her knitting, expecting to see either another customer or Mr Miller waiting for her attention. She was not expecting to see the sailor standing in front of her.

"So… how exactly does one cook with barley?" he asked, scooping up a small handful to let the grains trickle back down into their sack between his fingers.

"You have never eaten barley before?" she asked, a little surprised at the idea. Most of the people Emma knew in town ate barley regularly. Her father was a reliable provider, and his rates were so reasonable that even the poorest families could usually afford enough to feed their children for a whole week.

"Oh, I have eaten it," he chuckled. "I have just never prepared it before."

Emma flushed at her mistake and opened her mouth to apologise, but the Captain cut her off before she could speak.

"It is okay, Lass. No apologies are necessary. 'Twas an easy mistake to make."

Emma offered him a small smile before ducking her head and wishing away the colour in her cheeks. She did not want to be one of those maidens who flushed every time a pretty boy looked her way.

"You boil it, Captain," she replied, finally looking up from her lap to meet his eyes. "I would recommend soaking the grains before cooking them, however. I believe it makes them that little bit more enjoyable."

"Then I shall take a pound to try," he told her, reaching into the breast pocket of his jacket for his purse.

Emma took her time carefully weighing out the grain and then bagging it for the man standing in front of her. While she was working, a comfortable silence settled between the two of them, and when she looked up to check the Captain was still there, she found him staring down at her with another soft smile on his face.

"I have not seen you here before," he said, as her eyes caught and held his own. "Are you new to town?"

"No. I – I was born and raised on a farm just outside of town, Captain. My

Father usually makes the journey to market, however."

"Is your father here today?" The Captain turned his head left and right, almost as if he expected David to jump out and surprise them both.

"No. He is – he is sick."

"Oh. I am so sorry," the Captain offered. "I truly hope he recovers swiftly."

"Thank you, Captain."

For a moment, an awkward silence seemed to settle between the two of them before Emma remembered that he had actually placed an order with her.

She finished tying the small sack the way her father had shown her as a child and then held it out for the Captain to take. When his fingers brushed over her palm to collect his goods, Emma sucked in a harsh breath at the thrill that ran through her body.

The Captain either did not notice or was better at controlling himself than she was, as he simply offered her a dazzling smile while he dropped a few coins into her empty palm.

"It was a pleasure meeting you, Miss…"

"Nolan," Emma supplied, suddenly desperate for him to know her name. "Emma Nolan."

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Emma Nolan," he corrected, offering her a small wink that sent her heart into a flutter. "I hope to see you again soon."

"Yes. You – you too, Captain," she stuttered.

Even after he had left, Emma found her heart still fluttered around her chest like a hummingbird every time she thought of him.

---

It was not until the full moon had passed that David Nolan began to feel a little better. Emma fussed over her father as she helped ease him out of bed and walked him around the small cottage they called home.

She had done her best to take care of the farm while her father was incapacitated, but it had not been easy. She was unsure what she would have done without Mr Miller's help, and that was what she told her father later that first evening, over a bowl of chicken broth.

"I shall have to find some way to thank him," David mused, as he pushed himself unsteadily to his feet to take their dirty bowls over to the small table in the corner of the room, ready to be cleaned later that evening.

"Mr Miller was adamant that you already did enough for him, Papa."

"That is no reason not to thank someone for their kindness," David admonished, and Emma nodded her head in agreement.

"I could make him a new blanket," she suggested, looking around their small home for any other idea that would help convey the family's gratitude for his help.

"I think that would be a fine idea," David praised, dropping a kiss to the top of her head as he made his way back towards his bed. He had been in the blasted thing for so long now that he longed to be out of it, back on the open fields once more. But he barely had the energy to cross the room, let alone tend to his duties.

"You should sleep, Papa."

David wanted to protest, but before he could open his mouth to do so, his eyes had already fallen shut, and sleep had claimed him once more.

Emma watched her father breathe deep and evenly for a minute or two before she rose to tend to their dirty dishes. After taking a moment to clean their home, she returned to her small room at the back of the cottage and the knitting that was waiting for her. Winter was rapidly approaching, and both she and her father would need a few new warmer pieces for their wardrobe before it came. But for that evening, Emma would finish the blanket she had already started so she could take it to Mr Miller the following day, when she went to ask him to escort her back to market that weekend.

---

David insisted on making the next journey to market, even though he was still rather wobbly on his feet. Thankfully, Emma had given herself plenty of practice when it came to hooking the horses to their small cart, and with a little bit of help from Mr Miller, they were soon on their way.

Mr Miller stayed long enough to help David and Emma arrange their little plot at the market, before he disappeared to do whatever business it was he had in town, leaving Emma to fuss over her father.

"I am fine, Emma," he protested, as she shook out a blanket to drape across his lap.

"You were coughing up blood a few nights ago, Papa. You must rest."

David opened his mouth to protest but was cut off by a familiar voice coming from somewhere behind Emma.

"I must agree with your daughter. You are still looking a little pale, Mr Nolan."

David pushed aside the blanket Emma had covered him with but was prevented from standing by a firm hand landing on his shoulder.

"No, no. Do not trouble yourself," Mr Guinness told him. "How are you feeling, my friend?"

"Much better," David assured him. "I shall be back on my feet before the next full moon. How are you keeping, Mr Guinness?"

Emma tuned out the rest of the conversation taking place around her. She knew her father had always gotten along well with Mr Guinness, and the two men knew more about the business they were discussing than she did. So instead, Emma turned her attention to the activity around her. It was still early, but the town was beginning to grow busier as people from local villages made their way to market for much-needed supplies.

After a while, Mr Guinness and his associates collected their usual sacks of barley before bidding Emma and David a good day, and then set off towards the small cart they had waiting nearby.

For the rest of the morning, Emma kept herself busy fussing over her father's health and assisting the steady stream of customers that came their way. She spoke with mothers and fathers, cooks, and housekeeps from villages all around as they purchased their barley rations for the month.

When Mr Miller returned at lunchtime, promising to stay by David's side while Emma took some time for herself, she pressed a kiss to both men's cheeks before she took her leave. After browsing around the market for a few moments, Emma picked out some bread and fruit for her lunch and then returned to the spot she had settled in the last time she was in town.

The cooler weather had driven most of the children into their homes. While the odd pair of boys could be heard playing tag every now and then, the space was much calmer and quieter than it had been the previous month - but it was no less enjoyable for it. When she finished her lunch, Emma pulled out her newest knitting project and allowed the cool calmness of the breeze to wash over her as she added a few more rows of stitches to her new blanket.

"Miss Nolan?" a voice asked suddenly, startling her attention away from her needles and towards the man towering above her.

"Captain Jones," she greeted, dropping the blanket into her lap. "It is nice to see you again. How did you find the barley?"

The Captain cast a look around for a moment before he inclined his head to a spot on the ground just a few feet away from her. "Do you mind?" he asked.

"No. No, of course not." Emma gathered up the skirts of her dress and tucked them around her legs to make more room for him before setting her knitting aside. When she turned back around, she found the Captain now sitting beside her with his long legs stretched out in front of him.

"I must confess," he whispered, leaning in a little closer, "The first two attempts were dreadful. The first was barely edible, and the second tasted awful. But my third was a little better, and after that, my skills seemed to improve."

Emma giggled slightly at the thought of the navy Captain beside her standing in a kitchen, sweating profusely over a pot of burned barley. In her mind's eye, she could picture him reaching up to sweep his long, dark hair from his eyes as he tried valiantly to save his meal.

"I am glad to hear that," she eventually said, once the images in her mind had faded.

"How um… how is your father?" he asked, after a long moment of comfortable silence had passed.

Emma lifted her head to meet his eyes and realised with a start that the Captain looked almost afraid to hear her answer.

"He is better, thank you. Still not as well as he was six moons ago, but he is growing stronger and stronger every day."

"I am happy for you," he said. "I lost my mother as a young lad and my father a few years ago. While we know it will happen to us all one day, it is never easy to say goodbye to the people who love us the most."

"I do not want to think of a day when he is gone," Emma mumbled quietly, as she picked at a loose thread on her overskirt. "My mother did not survive the night of my birth, and my father was encouraged to give me over to an orphanage. He was told men were ill-equipped to raise a child alone, but he would not listen. He was determined to hold tight to the last piece of her – to me. He is all I have, and I am all he has left. I would give anything in this world to keep him by my side for all eternity."

"Then I pray that he overcomes this sickness to remain by your side for many years to come," the Captain offered, and Emma sent him a small smile of thanks.

For another long moment, the pair sat in silence, enjoying the views they had of the bustling town and the smell of salt in the air. Emma ran her fingers through the blades of grass at her feet, enjoying the dewy feel of them sliding over her hand.

"So, Captain, how long have you been a navy man?" she asked, lifting her head slightly to look at him from the corner of her eyes. "It seems like an incredibly noble profession."

"Aye, that it is," he agreed. "I have been sailing all my life, so joining His Majesty's Navy when I came of age felt like the right thing to do. I have been an official recruit for around six years now."

"Six years!" Emma gasped. Six years felt like an eternity to her. She could not even remember what she was doing last year, let alone six years ago. Although, to be fair, she likely spent her time back then the same way she spent it now.

"Time flies on the open seas, Lass. It is a magical place to be."

"I shall have to take your word for it, Captain," she told him, with a rueful smile.

"You have never been on the water before?"

"No, Sir. My papa taught me to swim in it, but we do not have much need for a boat, so I have never been sailing before."

"Maybe one day we could rectify that," he offered, as he flicked a glance up at her from beneath his lashes and then began fiddling with the belt strapped around his waist.

"Thank you, Captain, but I was under the impression that a naval vessel was not the place for a lady."

"That is why ladies, such as yourself, should only ever come aboard when invited by the Captain."

Emma gave him a small chuckle as she turned the idea over in her mind. Truthfully, the thought of setting sail and heading out into the open water until land was but a mere speck in the distance felt liberating. But even as she considered the idea, the reality of her situation came crashing down over her. Navy men could become unruly while they were at sea. She had heard the stories passed around local taverns, even if her father always attempted to shield her from them. Putting herself into such a dangerous position would be unwise, especially while her father was still recovering.

"Thank you," she told the Captain, because she appreciated the gesture he was making, even if he was not quite able to see why it would never become a reality. "But I must take care of my father right now."

"Maybe some other time then," he suggested, and even though Emma knew the answer would remain the same, she still found herself nodding her head to his statement.

"I should probably take my leave now," the Captain said, as he pushed himself up to his feet and reached down to brush the dirt from his crisp white pants. "It was a pleasure to see you again, Miss Nolan. I hope our paths cross soon."

He held out his hand in silent offering, and Emma slipped her own into it.

"I hope so, Captain Jones."

The Captain bent forward and brushed his lips lightly over the back of her hand before he stood back up and allowed it to drop down to rest on top of her skirts.

"Stay safe, Miss Nolan."

"You too, Captain."

And with those parting words, he offered her a small bow and took his leave, fixing his hat back into place as he walked away from her.

Emma remained sitting where she was for a long moment – until the feel of his lips pressed against her knuckles had finally faded – then she stood up and brushed herself down to head back to her father.

---

For the next three moon cycles, Emma accompanied her father to market to aid him in the sale of their barley. She did not see much of Captain Jones during that time. There were some days when he would not be in town at all - and others when he was often swamped by other villagers who wished to speak with him or buy him a drink to thank him for his service to the crown. Emma did not mind this too much. While the Captain had been a pleasant man to spend time with, she continued to return to keep a close watch over her father and to escape the silence and loneliness of their little farm every now and then.

It took her father a while to recover from the sickness that had ravaged his body, but Emma soon found that with every passing week, he needed her assistance less. This was both a blessing and a curse as it gave her plenty of free time to wander the town, exploring areas she had never visited before, and allowing her mind to explore those she probably never would.

It was during one of those quiet market days when Emma found herself stumbling upon the most peculiar scene. The sound of a familiar voice floating on the gentle breeze had drawn her to an alleyway she normally never would have stepped near. As she moved closer, Emma began to realise that the voice was not the one she had come to know.

While it was definitely Captain Jones who was speaking, this was not the Captain Jones she had come to expect. His tone was harsh and almost cruel. Even without seeing to whom he was speaking, Emma found herself pitying the person on the receiving end of his anger.

She was three steps into the alleyway when another voice finally joined the conversation, just as harsh and cruel as the Captain's had been.

"I do not care how you feel about this," a woman snapped, in a tone that held far more malice than Emma had ever dreamed possible. "The deal is done! There is no backing away from it now, Captain!"

"I did not make that deal!" he threw back at her, and Emma flinched a little at the iciness of his voice.

"No, your father did," the woman replied calmly, "And as his only living son, it is your duty to fulfil it."

"That is unfair!"

"That," the woman said, stepping around him as though he were just a mere stranger on the street, "Is magic."

With a wave of her hand, the tunnel around them seemed to darken all of a sudden before clearing to reveal Captain Jones standing alone.

Emma must have gasped with shock as his eyes darted away from the spot where the woman had been standing just moments before, and over to where Emma was now standing, frozen with fear.

"Miss Nolan?" he asked, his voice much higher than Emma had ever heard it before.

She hesitated for a moment as she attempted to gather her wits. When she finally had a firm grip on them, Emma turned sharply and began marching her way back towards the entrance of the alley.

"Miss Nolan!" Captain Jones called out, "Please wait!"

Emma froze briefly for a moment and then turned slowly on her heels. "You – she – I – she –"

"I know," Captain Jones reassured, "I know what she did. I am aware of how scary it looks, but I promise you, Miss Nolan, you have no need to be afraid of me. I cannot do as she does."

"Witchcraft," Emma finally spat out. "What she does is witchcraft."

"Yes," the Captain reluctantly agreed.

"And you let her. You are no better than she is!"

"I do not – I am not letting her do anything," he said, his eyes imploring her to see the truth behind his words. "My… my father made a deal with the witch. Do not ask what he sought from her, for I do not know. I was yet to be born when the deal was made."

"Then why…"

"Her deal concerned my brother, Liam. She wished to betroth him to her daughter, and my father agreed. After all, the witch was a wealthy woman who had once been married to royalty. Our family's status would only improve with Liam betrothed to the child of a prince."

"So why does she concern herself with you?" Emma demanded.

She had not noticed the Captain taking the few steps necessary to put himself closer to her. Emma had been too enchanted by his tale to pay much attention to his positioning.

"Because my brother passed before the marriage could take place."

"I – I am so sorry to hear about your brother," Emma whispered, as a cold dread lined her stomach. Losing her mother had been hard enough - she could not imagine losing a sibling too. And she definitely could not imagine how difficult it would be to find out you are expected to fulfil your brother's obligations. "But you are not him," she emphasised. "You should not be expected to take his place."

"I made the same argument," he said, and the wistful smile on his face told Emma there was so much more to come from this story. "Unfortunately, my father was not the most intelligent of men. He did not agree to a betrothal between Liam and her daughter. He agreed to a betrothal between his son and her daughter. As his only living son, I am bound to fulfil his contract."

Emma was already shaking her head before he had finished speaking.

"No! No, that is not fair. She cannot expect you to fulfil a contract that was agreed upon before your birth. That is not fair!"

"That is the way of dark magic," the Captain soothed, as he reached out to take her hands into his own, hoping to offer her some modicum of comfort. "I have tried everything I can think of to negate this contract, but it seems no matter how far I run, she will always find me. And now – now she has discovered a secret I have tried to hide from her. One that she will use to get her way."

"Secret?" Emma whispered, "What secret?"

The Captain hesitated for a moment, and Emma felt certain he was about to change the subject before he finally spoke up again. "She has discovered that I harbour affection for another. She has threatened to harm the one I care for if I do not marry her daughter this summer."

"You have found someone else?" Emma asked, her voice coming out as the barest of whispers while she considered the impossible position in which the Captain had found himself.

"I believe so. Alas, it looks as though I shall never truly know."

"That is… that is not right, Captain! You did not make this deal. You should not be expected to keep it. You should – you should not be expected to pass on a chance at true love because of a bargain your father made before you were born."

The Captain offered her a slight smile, but Emma did not like the look of resignation behind it.

"It is not fair," he agreed, "But it is the way things must be. I will marry the witch's daughter at the end of summer, as was agreed."

"And what of the woman you love?" Emma asked, as tears began to fill her eyes. "Is she doomed to live a life of misery?"

"I do not believe she knows of my feelings for her," the Captain assured her, "And I think it is best it remains that way."

As the last few words fell from his lips, Emma observed a change come over the Captain. It was almost like a wall had fallen down behind his eyes, blocking off a part of himself from the rest of the world. She wondered if that was the part of him that would always belong to his true love - the part of him that would never be seen again.

"Well then, you should make the most of the time you have left until summer," Emma declared. "Do all of the things you always wished to do; the things you might never get a chance to do once you are a married man."

"Thank you, Miss Nolan. I shall – I shall take that under advisement."

Emma offered the Captain a small smile as an awkward silence settled between the two of them. There was so much she wished she could say and, yet, Emma knew it would make no difference. The Captain had made up his mind. He was an honourable man, and he would honour his father's debt, even though it should never have fallen upon his shoulders.

"I should get back to my father," she suddenly declared. "He will worry if I am gone for too long."

"Of course. Enjoy the rest of your day, Miss Nolan."

"And you, Captain Jones."

The Captain would never know just how hard Emma wished her words could become true for him that afternoon.

---

Emma was a little surprised to see Captain Jones at her father's stall during the next market day, but she still offered the man a wide smile as she introduced him to her papa. After making polite conversation with David for a moment over his improving health, the Captain shifted his attention her way to ask, "Would you care to join me for lunch, Miss Nolan?"

"Oh… Um…" Emma turned to face her father, who gave her a puzzled look, before she turned back to the Captain. "I would like that very much, Captain Jones."

After shooting a look at her father, just to check that he was happy with the arrangement, she gathered up her sewing and made her way out from behind the small stall.

"I will have her back before the sun reaches its peak," Captain Jones promised, as he offered his arm for Emma to take.

"To what do I owe this honour?" she asked, as they made their way around the market, purchasing freshly made cheese and warm bread to eat together.

"After our last conversation, I decided to take your advice and make the most of the time I still have as a free man. That includes spending it with the only real friend I have in this town."

"Then I am honoured to spend lunch with you," she said, as the Captain paid a young boy for a small container of strawberries before they headed down towards the docks.

Even though the skies seemed to threaten rain, the rare warmth of the late winter morning had brought all of the children in town down towards the water's edge. Some had removed their stockings and shoes to dangle their feet in the cool water. Others were chasing each other around the trees or kicking a ball back and forth. It was not as peaceful as their last lunch together had been, but the little slice of sunshine they found felt oddly isolated.

Emma took a moment to nibble on her bread while she enjoyed the feel of the sun on her face. When she turned toward the Captain, she was a little surprised to find him watching her. Emma dropped her gaze down to her skirts and busied herself with breaking off a chunk of cheese.

"Have you had any luck in finding a way out of your deal?" she asked carefully.

"There is no way out," the Captain declared firmly, almost like he sought to put an end to their conversation by doing so.

"There must be a way," she pressed, because Emma had not been able to stop thinking about the Captain's predicament since he had told her about the witch's deal. While she might not have known much about the man, Emma was certain that he did not deserve the fate that seemed to lie in store for him - as some sort of slave, trapped in a loveless marriage to a woman he had never even laid eyes on before. He deserved to find true love, to live a happy life with someone who loved him back.

"I have made my peace with this decision, Miss Nolan. You should do the same," he instructed, his tone much harsher than he had taken with her before. "I am sorry," he said, after a long moment of uncomfortable silence had settled between the two of them. "I did not mean to snap at you. I just – I wish to enjoy my time with you, Miss Nolan, before I am prevented from seeing you again."

"She will not lock you away, will she?" Emma gasped.

"I have no way of knowing," the Captain sighed, "But what I do know is that she is the ruler of some faraway land. I do not believe I will ever set foot in Ireland again."

The thought left a heavy weight in Emma's stomach, a weight that completely stole her hunger.

"So we will never see each other again?" she asked, turning to face the Captain.

"I do not believe so."

"That – that is unfair! That is – You are my friend. My only friend! I do not wish to lose that. I do not wish to lose you."

"I am confident you will make other friends," the Captain soothed.

"I do not want other friends. I have you!"

The Captain chuckled a little as he tossed a chunk of bread down onto the ground for one of the ducks that had waddled their way onto the bank.

"What?" Emma demanded.

"I like your fire, Miss Nolan."

Emma flushed a little under his praise and fidgeted with her skirts once more. "Thank you. And I – I like your – courage, Captain."

"Killian."

"Excuse me?"

"Killian," he chuckled. "I should like for you to call me Killian when we are alone."

"Killian," Emma repeated. It was an unusual name. One she had never heard before. And yet, it felt perfect for him. An unusual name for an unusual man in a wholly unusual predicament.

For a moment, silence settled between the two of them as Emma picked at the grass beside her. When she spoke again, her voice was a soft whisper upon the breeze.

"If I am to call you Killian, then I should like for you to call me Emma."

She lifted her head to meet his eyes and found the Captain beaming in her direction.

"I am honoured that you would permit me to do so," he told her.

"As am I, Killian."

---

As the months passed, Emma and Captain Jones fell into something of a routine. She would make the long journey to market every moon's cycle to assist her father with their barley sales, and at lunchtime, Captain Jones would arrive to collect her so they could dine together. On the weeks that it rained heavily, he would take her into taverns for warm meals and drinks. On sunny afternoons they would spend their time outside, eating in different spots around the town, sometimes completely alone and other times, surrounded by the local townsfolk and their children.

Emma had been expecting her father to say something but, so far, David Nolan had remained oddly silent. Emma could not tell if it was because he respected the uniform that Captain Jones wore or if it was because he knew enough people in town to ensure his daughter's safety. Either way, she was certain it would not last, but she would take his silence while she had it because Emma had much more pressing matters on her mind.

The more time she spent with Captain Jones, the more Emma understood that she had to help him find a way out of the deal his father had made with the witch. Captain Jones was a good and kind man. He was the sort of man her father would have loved for her to marry one day. The kind of man that would treat her well and love her until his dying breath. He did not deserve whatever fate awaited him in some faraway land, because Emma was certain it would not be pleasant. The Captain's story would not end in some unlikely romance - the kind often spoken of in fairy tales.

Whenever they were alone, the Captain did his best to dissuade Emma from any conversation relating to the deal. Instead, he would ask about her childhood or her life on the farm. It was nice to have someone other than her father to speak with, and it was even more enjoyable to learn all about the life the Captain had lived at sea. The way he spoke about the ocean made it feel like such a wonderful, magical place that often left Emma longing for the open water.

It was during one particular spring afternoon that Emma found herself being collected by the Captain a bit earlier in the day.

"We may return a little later than usual," the Captain informed her father, before quickly adding, "But rest assured, your daughter will be in the safest of hands, Mr Nolan."

"Make sure that she is," was all David had said, before Emma was ushered away from the market.

"Are we not stopping for food?" she asked, as they passed the last of the stalls selling warm, freshly baked bread.

"Not today. Today, I have a special plan in mind."

"That sounds exciting," Emma chuckled, weaving her arm through the crook of his own, as had become a tradition for them both.

"I hope you will think so."

The two of them walked mainly in silence as they made their way along familiar roads and through well-trodden gardens to the docks at the edge of town. However, the sight that greeted her that afternoon was anything but familiar.

Emma gasped as her eyes fell upon the large vessel standing just before them.

"What is this?" she wondered aloud.

"This is my ship," the Captain explained. "She is called The Jewel. I thought you might like to dine with me abord her this afternoon."

"Wha – what of your men?" Emma worried.

"All enjoying what I am sure is a raucous lunch in a local tavern," he chuckled. "So it will just be the two of us and my cook, Mr Barnabee."

Emma's shock stopped her from moving, and the Captain turned back to make sure she was well.

"It will not quite be the same as taking you out into open water," he explained, "But I hope this will suffice your curiosity for now."

"It will. It is… It is magnificent, Killian. Thank you so much," Emma praised, flinging her arms around his neck to hold the Captain tightly. She was sure that her actions had drawn a few scandalised gasps from passers-by, but Emma could not seem to bring herself to care about the gossip that was sure to follow her now.

When she pulled back, she noticed that the Captain looked a little flustered, and Emma took a moment to straighten out her skirts and give him some time to pull himself together. When she finally lifted her head, he was looking his usual and composed self once more.

"Shall we?" he asked, offering her his arm.

"We shall," she giggled, slipping her own through his to allow him to guide her towards the plank of wood that would take them up on deck.

The climb was much steeper and more difficult than Emma had been expecting. She was grateful to have the Captain beside her, guiding her movements and keeping her upright as he helped to navigate the difficult entryway before finally jumping down onto the deck of his ship.

"May I?" he asked, extending both of his hands towards her hips.

Killian waited for Emma to nod her head before he finally touched her, wrapping his fingers tightly around her waist to lift her down and onto the wooden floor beneath his feet.

It took her a moment to gain her bearing, and once she did, Emma cast a quick look around the ship. It was much cleaner and tidier than she had pictured in her mind, and at the very centre of the space was a small table, already dressed for lunch with two settings.

"Oh, Killian," she breathed, "This is beautiful."

"I would have liked to set sail with you aboard," he teased, "But I know your father would not appreciate that, so I am hoping you will enjoy this little taste of a life on the ocean instead."

"I will," Emma assured him. "I already am."

The Captain offered her a small smile before gesturing to the table behind him. "Shall we take our seats?"

"Yes, please."

Emma practically skipped her way over to the nearest chair and was a little startled to find the Captain standing so close behind her, ready to pull it out. He was the perfect gentleman as he helped her into her seat, pushed it under the table, and then removed his naval jacket to take the chair opposite hers.

They had only been seated for a matter of moments when an unknown man came scuttling out from somewhere behind Emma to pour them both a glass of mead, then disappeared again.

"This is wonderful," she praised, as she cast her eyes around the deck. The table had been positioned in the middle of the space, giving Emma a good view of the town on one side, and a clear view of the ocean on the other. "You must eat here all the time when you are at sea."

"I regret to say that I do not," he told her, as he fiddled with the knife on the table. "I tend to take most of my meals in my quarters."

"Oh, of course. It must be much busier up here with a full crew," Emma reasoned.

"Aye, Lass. That it is."

The strange man from before made his way back out onto the deck, this time carrying a bowl of food in each hand. He set down the first for Emma before placing the second in front of his Captain. He then offered them a small bow before he scampered off once again.

"He is not being punished, is he?" Emma worried.

"Of course not," the Captain chuckled. "He is free to go and join his comrades when he is finished here. Mr Barnabee, however, is not the drinking type. I presume he will spend most of his day in the crew's quarters, enjoying the silence and reading his book."

"That sounds like a wonderful way to spend a day," Emma mused.

"Aye, Lass. It certainly is."

The two friends fell silent for a moment, and Emma used the time to make a start on her stew. It was honestly some of the best food she had ever eaten, but maybe that was because it was the first meal she could not remember preparing herself for a very long time.

Whenever she looked up from her bowl, she would find the Captain staring her way. He would quickly avert his gaze and fill his mouth with food to avoid her questions, but his lingering looks were not lost on Emma.

When they had both finished eating and Emma had pushed her bowl away from herself, Mr Barnabee came scrambling back onto the deck once more to pour another glass of mead for them before he cleared away their dishes.

The Captain waited until Emma had taken a long pull from her cup to ask, "Would you like a tour of the ship?"

"I would love one!"

Emma waited for the Captain to make his way to her side before she looped her arm through his. She followed him down a small flight of steps and through a doorway hidden in the wood panelling below. The corridors were dark and damp, the smell of seawater much stronger here than it was on deck, like the sailors had not been able to fully rid themselves of the water they had been doused with, and it had seeped into the wood of the ship. But there was an odd kind of intimacy to the space too. If Emma had not known that the ship was usually filled with big, burly men, she would have described it as romantic.

Captain Jones showed her the crew's quarters at the back of the ship, where Mr Barnabee was lounging in a bunk and reading some sort of novel by candlelight. From there, she toured the kitchen and the long dining area where the men usually ate their meals. The last stop on their tour was the Captain's quarters. Killian hesitated briefly with his hand on the door before he finally pushed it open, taking a step back to allow Emma to enter the space.

The room was much larger and brighter than she had been picturing in her mind. The windows that lined the space offered a wonderful view of the ocean, and the bench underneath them had been scattered with cushions and blankets to make it as comfortable and inviting as it could possibly be. Emma had never thought of the Captain as a man that enjoyed reading before, but he was clearly full of surprises. The shelves in the space were lined with old and obviously well-read books, and the desk was strewn with maps and instruments Emma could not even begin to guess at naming. A small bed was tucked against the wall on the other side of the room, perfectly dressed and ready for an occupant later that evening.

"It is wonderful," Emma complimented. "So bright and spacious. I can just imagine how amazing it must be to wake up every morning and have the ocean be the first thing you see. I cannot imagine anything better!"

The Captain mumbled something under his breath that Emma did not quite catch, but she was not overly worried. She was still enjoying taking in her new surroundings.

When she finally turned back to face him, there was a look of determination upon her features that Killian did not like.

"This is your life," she stated confidently, because the more she looked around the space, the more of the Captain she could see in it. The way he had ordered his books from largest to smallest reminded Emma of the way he would arrange his food when he sat down to eat. The sheets on his bed were made from similar colours as his uniform, reflecting his dedication to his role. The maps across his desk were littered with notes he had made about places he wished to visit and how they could benefit the crown and the country. Captain Jones was built for a role with the Royal Navy, and she hated that he was being forced to give it up - to surrender himself to some witch with no possible idea of what his future would hold.

"You belong here, Killian. Not with her!"

"Emma," he protested weakly.

"No!" she yelled at him. "No! I will not let you silence me. This is too important. You have to fight this. You must! There has to be some way for you to keep your life, Killian. Some way for you to pursue your love."

"There is no way," he told her, as a look of steely determination fixed its self upon his features. "I have already told you this, Emma. I have tried everything!"

"I do not believe that."

When his features darkened, Emma took a small step forward and reached out to run the tips of her fingers over the stubble covering the Captain's cheek. He softened instantly under her touch.

"I believe that you have tried everything you can think to try, Killian, but I do not believe you have exhausted all of the possibilities in this world. There must be a way around this. I truly believe that."

The Captain reached up to cover Emma's hand where it rested over his cheek and tilted his head down into it. "I wish that were true," he told her.

"I will never stop fighting for you," she whispered softly, as tears gathered in her eyes.

"You must, Emma. You must let me go and live your life."

"Never!"

---

"Thank you, sweetheart. That was wonderful," David praised, as Emma cleared away their dishes from dinner.

She decided to sit for a while and savour what had been a very enjoyable meal before washing them clean.

"So," her father began, after a long moment of silence, "I think we need to have a conversation."

"What about?" Emma asked, as her heart started to race.

"The young man that keeps whisking you away for lunch."

"Captain Jones?" Emma's voice was a little higher pitched than usual, and she hoped her father would not notice it.

"He seems nice," David mused. "Do you… do you think he is nice?"

"Yes, Papa," she chuckled, "I would not spend time with him if I did not believe him nice."

"Naturally," David mumbled. His next few words were unintelligible, and Emma assumed they were for himself, not for her.

When her father finally spoke up again, it was with a determination in his voice that she had never heard before. "Has he asked to court you?"

"No. No, of course not, Papa," Emma replied, a little stunned by his question. "Captain Jones is – his situation is difficult," she finally settled on, because Emma had a feeling that explaining his situation to her father would only result in David's insistence that she stay far away from the Captain.

"Because he is a navy man?"

"Yes," Emma lied. "His heart belongs to the sea."

"That does not surprise me," her father said, startling Emma a little. "However, while a man's heart may belong to the sea, that does not stop him from giving it to a woman he loves."

"Captain Jones does not love me," Emma protested.

"Are you quite sure of that?" David challenged, and while she opened her mouth to respond, no words emerged. After watching his daughter flounder for a moment, David finally said, "I thought not. Just – be careful, my darling. I do not wish to see your heart broken. True love is a wonderful thing to behold but, when it is gone – it is crippling."

Tears filled Emma's eyes as she pulled an image of her mother to mind. She had no idea if that image was accurate. She had no memories of the woman who had birthed her, the woman her father had loved so deeply. All she had were her father's words and his pain. She could not imagine living with that much anguish in her heart. She could not imagine anyone living that way and, yet, two of the men in her life were planning to do so. Emma might not have been able to help her father, but she was determined to do all she could to help Captain Jones.

Swallowing hard around the lump that had lodged itself in her throat, she found herself asking, "Papa, if a man finds himself trapped in a deal he did not make, is there a way out?"

David cocked his head to one side as he considered his daughter's words for a long moment. It was obvious that he did not understand what she was asking, or why she was asking it, but his love for Emma forced him to give her an answer.

"There is always a way," he told her. "Mr Guinness taught me many years ago that the wording of such deals is important. That is where you will find a way out."

Emma rose to her feet and crossed the small room to press a kiss to her father's forehead.

"Thank you, Papa," she whispered, before she turned her back on him to hide her tears and began busying herself with cleaning the dishes.

---

The solution came to Emma one night as all good ideas tend to do – in a dream.

She had been sleeping peacefully, dreaming of the warm summer days where she could spend all of her time outside, helping her father with his harvest and roasting meat for dinner over an open flame. Suddenly the image dissolved around her and then reformed itself into an unfamiliar one. It took a moment for Emma to realise that what she was seeing was the vastness of the ocean spread out before her, the sun shimmering on the surface and the horizon seemingly never-ending.

She turned slightly, hoping to see land somewhere close by, but was greeted by the sight of Captain Jones sitting in the same chair he had used when they had dined together upon his ship.

"Are you coming, Love?" he called to her, and Emma's heart leapt into her throat at the sound of that one small word. "Your lunch will be cold soon."

"Yes. Yes, I am coming," Emma called back, as she stumbled her way across the slightly swaying ship to fall into the seat opposite the Captain. Thankfully, he did not seem to have noticed her lack of grace.

Emma took a bite from her chicken and chewed on it thoughtfully before she finally asked, "Where is the crew?"

"Crew?" he queried, looking around the deck before settling his gaze intently upon her face. "What crew, Love? It is just you and me, as it has been for many moons now."

"Just – just us?" Emma wondered, her voice taking on that high-pitched and uncomfortable tone again.

"Of course, my love. Why would we bring my crew along for our wedding celebration?"

Emma had not heard the rest of their conversation. She had woken suddenly at those final two words, her heart racing and sweat beading upon her forehead. Why had the idea not come to her sooner? It was not the perfect solution for the Captain's problem, but it was something more than he had been able to come up with so far.

She scrubbed a hand down her face and then turned to look at the moon shining above the farm from her bedroom window. There were still a few more days to go until she would be headed back to market with her father, and then she could pitch her plan to the Captain.

Emma only hoped that the woman he had fallen for would agree to help him out - that she loved him as much as he seemed to love her.

---

There was a bounce in Emma's step as she helped her father load the cart later that month with their bountiful harvest, ready for market. She knew that her papa could probably sense it, but no matter how hard she tried, Emma could not seem to keep her excitement under control. She finally had a way to help the Captain out of his predicament, and she could not wait to share it with him.

The morning seemed to pass by at an excruciatingly slow pace, with the highlight being their usual visit from Mr Guinness, who lingered to make conversation with David. Emma listened as best she could and threw the odd word in whenever it seemed necessary, but she had to admit that the inner workings of business were not of interest to her.

As the sun climbed higher in the sky, her excitement became almost uncontainable. Emma had tossed her knitting aside what felt like hours earlier because she simply could not concentrate on what she was doing. Unpicking the rows of stitches she had incorrectly added would take long enough once they returned to the farm.

And then, just when she thought that Captain Jones was too busy to see her, he arrived from nowhere, lingering behind a customer her father was busy serving and waiting his turn to speak with them both.

David was not surprised to see the Captain at his stall that morning. He had gotten used to the young man collecting his daughter for lunch, and now, all he was waiting for was an opportunity to speak alone with him. David assumed once they could speak without Emma overhearing them, the Captain would likely ask him a very important question.

"Good morning, Mr Nolan," Captain Jones greeted, before tipping his hat in Emma's direction, "Miss Nolan."

"Good morning, Captain Jones," Emma replied, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she did.

"How has your morning been?"

"Slow and steady," David replied, before Emma could say anything else. "Just the way we like it here."

"I am happy to hear it, Sir."

The men locked gazes for a moment, a silent understanding passing between the two of them, before the Captain wrenched his eyes away to turn them in Emma's direction once more.

"Would you care to join me for lunch, Miss Nolan?" he asked, as he did every time she accompanied her father to market.

"I would love to."

Emma stretched up to press a kiss to her father's cheek before she slipped out from behind their stall and made her way over to the Captain's side. After looping her arm with his own, the pair set off to explore the market, stopping to purchase some bread, cheese, cured meat, and apples. Emma took the lead this time, tugging the Captain towards one of the spots they had found during their exploration of the town, a place where she knew they were unlikely to be overheard and interrupted.

She managed to keep herself composed just long enough for them to take a seat on the grass and break their bread, before she said, "I think I know how to get you out of this deal, Killian."

"Emma," he sighed wearily, "We have been over this many times before. There is no way out for me."

"But I think there is," she pressed, as she pushed herself up to her knees. "You said the witch told you that you needed to fulfil your father's oath because he bargained his son, and while you were not the son he intended to marry off, you still fit that description."

"Yes," he agreed, "And unless you have found some sort of magic that would somehow sever my parental lineage, I do not understand where you are going with this, Emma."

"We do not need magic to escape this contract, Killian. We just need to be as crafty as she is. She changed the rules to suit herself based on the wording of the contract, so why can we not do the same?"

The Captain tilted his head a little to one side, a clear indication that he did not understand where Emma was going with this line of thought.

"She cannot expect you to marry her daughter if you are already wed, Killian. All we need to do is find you a bride."

The Captain snorted out a type of laugh Emma was not sure she appreciated. While she could detect an undercurrent of amazement in the tone, she also felt like a part of it was mocking, and Emma did not like being mocked.

"That… that is not as easy as it sounds," he finally explained, as he turned his eyes down to the cheese in front of him.

"But you said you had found someone," Emma pressed. "Would she not marry you to save you from a lifetime of misery?"

"She is unaware of my feelings for her."

"Then tell her," Emma pressed. "Tell her how you feel and ask for her hand in marriage, Killian. Surely this is worth a try."

"It is not – it is not that simple, Emma," he snapped back. "We do not know that this witch would even acknowledge any marriage I may enter into that is not with her own child. We also do not know how she would react to such news. I cannot tell the woman I love that I am in love with her and then effectively place a dark price over her head. I also cannot tell her I love her and that I must marry someone else. That is just – that is cruel, Emma. To me, and to her."

"Should she not get a say in this?" Emma demanded, as she raised her hands to her hips. "Maybe she would want to know. After all, they say it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all."

"The people who say that have never lost someone they loved, Emma. I can guarantee you that."

"I just – I do not understand why you will not fight for this," she finally exploded as hot, angry, frightened tears began to fall from her eyes. "Why will you not fight to save yourself, Killian? Why will you not even try?"

"Because…" he shouted back, before softening his voice to whisper into his lap, "Because you deserve better, Emma."

"What? I – I do not understand."

"Of course you do not," he chuckled bitterly.

"Then why not explain it to me?" Emma challenged, frustrated with his half-answers and the avoidance of her questions.

"Is it truly not obvious to you, Emma? Have you really not worked it out yet?"

When she continued to glare in his direction, Killian sighed before pushing himself up to his knees.

"It is you, Emma. You are the woman I have fallen for. You are the one I love."

Emma gasped in surprise as she sat motionless for a long moment, playing those words on a loop in her mind.

You are the one I love… You are the one I love… You are the one I love…

"No," she finally declared, "No, there has to be some mistake. You cannot – I am not – you cannot love me. You barely know me."

"I know enough," he sighed heavily. "I know how much you care for your father - how deeply you love him. I know that you enjoy playing with the children at the end of the day when you think nobody is watching you. I know that you like to take care of the people around you – how you make their clothing and prepare their meals, and you are always ready to share your knowledge with others if they need it. And I know how hard you have been fighting for a man you barely know. A stupid man who is trapped in something you should never have known existed in the first place. You are a good, pure, generous, loving woman, Emma Nolan. And I have selfishly fallen in love with you."

Emma's tears were falling freely once again, and she lifted her hand to dash them away.

"Oh, Killian," she cried, "You are not selfish! You are simply human!"

She leaned across the short space between them, and the Captain's eyes fluttered shut as she brushed her lips over each of his stubbled cheeks. For a moment, he seemed to draw comfort from having her close. Then he pulled back and lifted his hands to frame her face.

"Do you see now why I cannot risk this plan, Emma? Why I cannot risk your life?"

"I will not let you marry yourself to that witch's daughter!" Emma sobbed. "I cannot!" She pulled back so their eyes could meet and firmly declared, "Marry me, Killian! Marry me instead!"

"She will kill you," he whispered, his face paling at the mere thought of such an atrocity. "She will kill you, Emma, and she will kill your father. I cannot allow that to happen."

"She will not," Emma protested firmly. "I have to believe that. Papa always said that true love was the strongest magic of all. She cannot hurt us if we are together."

The Captain leaned in to rest his forehead against her own, so close that Emma could feel his nose brush against hers with every breath she took. Close enough to feel his tears fall onto her face.

"I cannot ask that of you."

"You are not. I am offering. I am offering myself to you, Killian. Take me as your wife," she pleaded, "Marry me. Be with me. Save yourself, Captain, and save me too."

He squeezed his eyes shut tight for a moment, soaking up all of the emotion and feeling behind Emma's words before he twisted his head slightly to press his lips firmly to her own.

Killian was not the kind of sailor that the townsfolk gossiped about, but he had kissed other women before. The small gasp his actions drew from Emma told him that he was her first, and suddenly, there was nothing he wanted more in life than to be her last – her only!

He pressed another small kiss to the tip of her nose, then pulled back to rest their foreheads together again.

"We should – we should speak with your father," he said, in a somewhat shaky voice.

"Why?"

"Because, if he is to give blessing for this union, he should be fully aware of what he is agreeing to and the danger that comes with it."

Emma gasped again as she pulled back to fix him with a watery-eyed stare. "Do you really mean it?"

"Only if your father agrees," he declared firmly. "If he is against this union, I will respect his wishes, Emma. I have no intention of taking his daughter from him."

"He will not be," she promised, because while Emma had no idea how her father would react to the knowledge that witches and dark magic existed, she knew that he would never stand in the way of true love.

The Captain did not look as convinced of this idea as Emma was, but he did not protest either. Instead, he simply said, "We should finish our lunch before he thinks I have abducted you. That certainly would not help our cause."

Emma giggled at the way his brows wiggled with his words but did as he asked, turning her attention down to the food she was supposed to be consuming instead of the man who could become her husband in just a few short days.

---

As the Captain did not wish to discuss the rather startling details of his life in the middle of a busy market square, he agreed to meet with Emma and her father at their farm later that evening. Emma was fairly quiet during the ride back home, a detail that did not escape her father's notice.

"Are you well?" he asked, as he helped his daughter down from her seat on the wagon.

"I am fine, Papa. I just – we will have a visitor later this evening."

"Oh, will we?" he challenged.

"Captain Jones has something he wishes to speak with you about in private."

David's confusion evened out into a knowing smile at Emma's words, and she had to fight hard to hide her own.

"It is not like that," she chuckled. "He has something important to tell you that cannot be spoken of around others."

"I am sure he does," David countered, as he set to work unclipping the horses.

Emma shook her head fondly at her father's tone. She then leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek before heading into their small home to begin preparations for dinner.

She was not sure how much time passed while she was chopping vegetables and stewing meat, but the sun had sunk behind the horizon, leaving nothing but darkness behind when a firm knock echoed around the cottage. Emma almost dropped the wooden spoon she was using to stir the pot of stew, as her papa threw her a knowing look and hurried to answer the door.

"Mr Nolan."

"Captain Jones," David greeted, extending a hand for the younger man to shake. "Do come in."

"Thank you, Sir."

The Captain pulled off his hat as he made his way over the threshold, inclining his head in Emma's direction. "Miss Nolan."

"Captain Jones," she greeted, trying to contain the smile that wished to break free upon her face.

While Emma finished preparing the evening's meal, her father encouraged the Captain to take a seat at their small table and then poured him a cup of mead. By the time she finished setting out fresh bread and bowls of stew, the two men were talking happily about their experiences on the open water. Emma was a little startled to learn that her father had enjoyed fishing as a young boy. She had always thought of him as growing up on the farm he inherited.

By the time they finished eating, and Emma had cleared away the dishes, the Captain looked a little more at ease inside of their home, and David seemed to be in a relaxed and jovial mood. Emma had been the one to suggest waiting until after dinner to tell her father the news they wished to share, as she knew that he could become a little tetchy on an empty stomach.

Now that they were running out of conversation topics and the evening was growing darker, Emma felt the gentle hum of butterflies beginning to fill her belly. Setting the dishes onto the side for cleaning a little later, she made her way around the table to take a seat beside the Captain, drawing a raised eyebrow from her father.

"Papa," she began carefully, "There is something Captain Jones and I wish to discuss with you."

David sat back in his seat, smiling a little smugly.

Emma turned to look at Killian, wondering where to begin. He must have sensed the hesitation on her face, as he reached out to cover her hand where it rested on the table before turning to meet her father's gaze.

"Mr Nolan," he said, and then paused for a moment as he wondered how to word everything that needed to be said. "I am eternally grateful that you have given me this chance to get to know your daughter. She is a wonderful person, and I am sure it comes as no surprise to you that I have fallen completely and hopelessly in love with her."

He paused again, and Emma watched as her father nodded his agreements to the Captain's words.

"I would love your blessing to marry your daughter," Killian continued, but when David opened his mouth to respond, he quickly added, "However, there is something you must know before you can give that permission."

David's brow creased with his confusion as he leaned forward in his seat and folded his arms on top of the table. "Go on," he said, in a tone that was much darker than any Emma had ever heard her father use before.

David sat in silence as he listened to Killian and Emma take turns to explain the horrific predicament they found themselves in. At first, he thought that the story was ludicrous - that the Captain must have spent too long at sea to believe in such nonsense as witches and magic, but his daughter's insistence that she had seen the witch use magic herself changed his mind. David knew better than anyone else just how intelligent and sensible his daughter was. She would not make up stories about supernatural creatures just for attention. She knew how dangerous that could be.

The Captain explained the details that the witch had shared with him about the agreement his father had entered into, before Emma jumped in to explain her solution and how David had helped her come to it. By the time they both finished speaking, David was starting to worry that he had come down with the chills once again. He had never felt as sick and weary as he did right then.

"So," Emma began carefully, after the three of them sat in silence for what she deemed to be far too long, "What do you think, Papa? Will you allow us to marry?"

"I do not think that is really the question you should be asking," David sighed. He knew his daughter well enough to understand that even if he withheld his permission, Emma would find a way to marry the man she loved. She was too much like her mother in that respect. But at that very moment, it was the least of his concerns.

"I believe the real question you should be asking yourselves is what prevents this witch from just taking what she wants regardless of your marital status?"

The Captain offered Emma a look that clearly said he had been expecting this question, and Emma deflated a little in her seat.

"Nothing," she finally admitted, "I guess… if this witch wants Killian badly enough, she will find her way to get him. I do not possess magic and I have no hope of stopping her. But that does not mean we should not try," Emma pressed. "Papa, you always told me that true love was the strongest of all magic. I believe you are correct, and I have to believe that our love will save us. That it will save Killian," she finished, as she turned to offer the man at her side a small smile.

The Captain lifted one of her hands to his lips and brushed a light kiss over her knuckles before he guided it back down to the top of the table.

"I hope you are correct," David offered softly. "I truly do. But I also hope that you will prepare yourselves for the chance that you could be wrong."

"It is why we are here. We wanted you to know that you could be in danger, Papa."

"I do not believe I am the one in danger here," David sighed, because if only that were true. He would gladly lay down his life to allow his daughter to live hers with the man she wished to marry. He flicked his gaze between the two young lovers for a moment before he pulled himself up to his full height and settled his eyes on the man across the table from him.

"You have my blessing to marry my daughter," he began carefully, "But do not do it here. You are a naval officer. You have a ship. Wait for the next market day. Buy as much food as you can afford, and then set sail alone. Marry my daughter while you are at sea. Marry her and then run with her. Take her somewhere this witch will never find you. Somewhere that you might find people who can help you both escape this deal, and do not return until you have found some form of protection against this witch's magic."

"Papa! No!" Emma gasped, because she could not imagine marrying the Captain without her father there to see it.

"It is the only way you can be together," David explained. "If this witch has access to magic, she cannot be the only one. There must be someone else who can help you both - who can protect you both. Find that person. Do not return to County Carlow until you have. And whatever you do, be careful. Asking for magic could send you both to your deaths."

Emma turned watery eyes from her father over to the man sitting beside her.

"We do not have to do this, Emma," he soothed, reaching out to cradle her face in the palm of his left hand. "You can stay here with your father and forget I ever existed. You do not need to leave with me."

"I do not want to forget you," Emma sobbed. "I never want to forget you."

A look passed between the two of them before the Captain nodded his head firmly.

The matter had been decided.

---

Over the next few weeks, Emma kept herself busy on the farm, preparing a store of food, blankets, and clothing for her father before she left. David continued protesting that he had managed just fine taking care of the two of them when she was young, but Emma could not seem to stop herself. She knew her father was ageing and that as he did, taking care of himself would become harder. But she tried to comfort herself with the belief that she would return with her husband when they had found a way to defeat the witch and they would take care of David together.

Captain Jones kept his distance during those weeks. When he had said a tender goodbye to Emma the night they arranged to flee, he had known that his beloved would need time with her father before they departed, and he wanted to give her as much of that as he possibly could. So, instead, he busied himself with preparing his ship, replenishing as much of the food and water supplies as he could. He purchased books and small treasures that he hoped would give his wife comfort when they were on the open water, and he made arrangements for his men to visit a brothel outside of town so they would not be around to stop him from leaving.

On the morning that Emma and her father were due at market, he dressed in his naval uniform for perhaps the very final time and then swept through the ship, checking his supplies once more to be sure he had everything he would need. He could not be certain that someone in town was not working for the witch, so everything needed to remain as normal as possible.

And then he sat down beside the window in his cabin with one of his new books to wait for his beloved's arrival.

Across the town, Emma was making what she hoped would not be her final journey to market at her father's side. She had hidden some blankets and clothing in a sack on the wagon and intended to pass it over to the Captain, disguised as a sale of barley later that morning.

The ride was painfully silent, the air full of all the things Emma and her father wished to say but knew they could not, if they were to go ahead with their plans.

When they finally arrived in town, Emma helped her father prepare his stall and tie up the horses before she gave him a small kiss on the cheek and hurried away to browse the local stalls and stores, purchasing the last of what she would need in order to make her voyage.

It was as she was leaving a small medicinal store that Emma became aware of the feeling that she was being followed. She turned to look over her shoulder and saw nobody behind her, but that did not stop her from speeding up a little. Emma would rather be paranoid and safe than reckless and dead.

She turned a corner at the end of the street and found herself staring at the entrance of the alleyway, inside of which she had first discovered Killian's secret. Just like the last time she had been there, the alleyway was not empty.

"Miss Nolan," a harsh voice greeted, "I have been waiting for you. Thank you, John."

Emma turned her head quickly and saw a man scurrying away from where he had been lingering just behind her. Belatedly, she realised that he must have been the one following her – shepherding her towards his mistress.

Swallowing down the lump of dread that had lodged itself in her throat, Emma called back, "I am sorry, I do not believe we have been introduced."

"Do not play coy with me, girl. I know that you know who I am just as I know exactly who you are."

The woman standing in the shadows took a step forward, and Emma took two back.

"I… I think you must have me confused with someone else," she croaked out, as she searched for someone to call out to for help.

"Nobody else is here, dear," the witch cooed, suddenly standing much closer than she had been before.

Emma let out a squeak of surprise and fear as her arms suddenly lost all feeling, spilling her goods to the ground while her legs took another couple of hasty steps backwards. She prayed, silently, that someone would notice her absence soon. She prayed for Killian to come looking for her - to save her.

The witch reached out a cool hand to twist a piece of Emma's hair around her finger. The action was so very tender and, yet, Emma had never been more terrified in her life.

"A little bird tells me that you have been scheming with a certain navy Captain," the witch explained, untwisting the hair before she began the process again.

"I do not –"

"Do not lie to me!" the witch yelled, and Emma flinched at her tone. "You plan to wed him - to flee from this land with him today. I know it. I have seen it."

"You – you cannot have."

"Oh, my poor dear. You have no idea just what I am capable of," the witch breathed. "Which is why I am offering you a chance to save yourself. Call off the wedding. Tell the Captain you have changed your mind. Break his heart, if you must. I do not need it to work. I just need it to be mine."

"And if I will not?" Emma challenged, in a voice a lot steadier than her legs felt at that moment.

"If you do not, then I shall be forced to punish you both."

"I do not fear death," Emma spat out, and the witch released a delightedly twisted laugh.

"Oh, my dear girl, there are far worse things in this life than death."

Emma swallowed hard to try and dislodge that lump again, but the look in the witch's eyes made it hard to achieve.

Surely there was nothing in life worse than death.

And then it hit her suddenly, like a bolt of lightning to a tree. There were things in life worse than death. Things she had already contemplated, things her father had already lived through, things she knew she could never survive.

"I will not let you take him from me," Emma stated, her voice firm and true. "I will not!"

The witch released another delighted giggle that had the hairs on the back of Emma's neck rising.

"So be it," she stated simply, as she took a small step back.

Emma was so busy keeping her eyes on the witch that she did not notice the person running into the alley ahead of them both. She did not hear the Captain screaming her name, begging the witch to stop. She did not notice what was happening to her until it was too late to stop it.

An unbearable heat was building in the tips of her toes, somehow paradoxically freezing every place in Emma's body that it touched.

She raised her eyes to beg the witch to stop, to ask for some sort of explanation for what was happening, and saw Killian struggling behind some kind of invisible barrier. He was pounding the air as he screamed her name over and over and over again.

Emma just managed to raise a hand, stretching it out towards him as the fire in her body consumed her chest and limbs, locking them in place while it made its way slowly up her neck.

"I told you there was no escaping this, Jones," the witch cackled, as she finally released the magic holding him at bay.

Killian stretched out a hand to meet Emma's but, before he could touch her, he recoiled in pain at the unendurable heat radiating from her body.

"Now, you will always have something to remember your precious Emma by," the witch cackled as she circled them both.

The last thing Emma heard before the fire consumed her soul was her beloved's anguished whisper.

"I am so sorry, my love. I will find a way to free you from this life. I promise."

After that day, Captain Killian Jones and Emma Nolan were never heard from again.

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