A/N: Thank you all for the feedback you've been leaving so far on this story!

Also, while this story is rated M for a reason, and the real stuff won't happen until quite a few chapters later, a brief warning that there's a really tiny, non-explicit mention of sex at the end of this chapter.

Chapter 3 - Ugly Duckling.

"Okay, now – sit down and explain what happened."

It's half an hour later, after Granny's insistence that she sat down and had some stew since she was looking far too boney, that Emma was able to sit down on the older woman's bed and began telling the story.

She realized at some point while telling the story, that she'd dropped the basketful of strawberries during her little adventure sneaking away from the pirate, and she cursed to her insides and cursed that darned pirate as well.

"…and he… he even had the audacity to act like nothing had happened, like everything was just water under the bridge, and asked me for a drink! Can you even believe it?"

Red, who had silently paid attention to the story, let out a mix between a sigh and a chuckle. "Okay, but will you go?"

The question threw Emma aback, and she glared at her godmother like she had just gone entirely bonkers. "What?"

"Will you go have that drink with him?" she repeated herself, and Emma blinked a couple of times, disbelief clear in her face.

"Did you not just hear the part where I said he tried to steal from me? Or that he held a sharp hook against my neck? He's a pirate and I'm a princess, he could've kidnapped me!" Emma cried. "Also, isn't your duty as my godmother to tell me not to go?"

"It is," Red nodded. "But I'm well aware no matter what I say, you'll end up doing whatever you wish to do. My dear, I was young once too. And I remember well how hard it was to resist a handsome man's offer."

Emma's eyes widened, and now she's certain that the she-wolf had truly gone out of her mind.

"I never said he was–!" she exclaimed, indignant.

Menacing, yes.

Dangerous, surely.

Handsome? No –

Red gave her a knowing look. "I can smell your pheromones going all crazy as you spoke of him. And your cheeks are red,"

"It's because I'm angry," Emma scowled.

"It's because he's cute," Red said right back at her.

And Emma couldn't help but have her mind wander off to those pale blue eyes.

She shook the thought immediately.

"Okay, let's say he is," Emma rolled her eyes. "I'm still a princess, and I know better than to hang out with pirates!"

"Fair point there, dear," Red chuckled, "Relax, honey, I'm just messing around with you."

The conversation about her adventure around the town stopped right there, and Emma decided Red would be the only one to ever learn about said incident. If her parents were ever to find out, they'd surely lose their minds over it.

A couple of days went by after that. And while Emma decided to keep going on normally with her life, and try and not put much thought into what happened, the thing is, most days she thought back to it.

She thought back to him, cursing herself and cursing his stupid good-looks as each time she would feel a blush creeping onto her cheeks.

She wondered a lot of times if she was going mad. It certainly seemed like it, as it was madness to be blushing around as if she fancied the stupid pirate she'd just met.

Because she didn't, of course.

She thought back to how it had made her feel, as he'd been dangerously close to her, hook pressed to her neck. The rush through her veins, the fastening of her heart.

Adrenaline, or perhaps something else?

But no – no matter the adrenaline nor excitement, no matter how she'd suddenly felt oh-so-alive as she faced the challenge, it wasn't something that could ever happen again.

Perhaps you could share a drink with me.

It was madness to even consider it.

And still, more often than not she had to shake the thought out of her head.

"You've been awfully quiet, my dear," Snow said, as they walked through the halls of the castle. "Something bothering you?"

"Oh, no, no," Emma snapped out of it quickly, giving Snow a reassuring smile. "Everything's good, I just… haven't got that much to say."

The older woman nodded, however, the slight deepening of the lines on her forehead told Emma that she wasn't that convinced.

Emma found, as Snow insisted a few moments later they go out for a ride together, that her mother could be a little more intuitive than she believed her to be.

"I know being inside the castle always can be frustrating," Snow had said. "Plus, we haven't gone out riding in a while now. We could even drop by visit Pinocchio–"

Pinocchio had left far behind his days as a young boy, having turned now into a tall, handsome man, now taking care of his family business. Geppetto had passed a year ago already, leaving his only son to take care of the old woodshop.

After some minutes of riding, the queen and herself had stopped by the door of the woodshop. It didn't take long for him to open the door, showing them a wide grin as he greeted them kindly, allowing them into the wooden house.

He prepared some tea and offered cookies to the queen and princess, and sat with them at a small table by the kitchen. They sat as they talked and drank until it's a bit more than an hour later, and the royal ladies decided it was time to say their goodbyes to him.

Emma left the woodshop, however, with something unexpected: a present, hugged tightly against her chest, just over where her heart laid, feeling troubled.

"An early birthday present for the princess," Pinocchio had said, presenting her the small wooden figure.

It was a beautiful bird, so delicate she could even see every single detail in its feathers.

"A swan?" Emma asked with curiosity, a smile on her face.

"I've always liked swans. Plus, I had a feeling you might like them as well," August responded with a shrug. "My dad always read me a story about swans when I was little. The ugly duckling, he called it. The duck who believed so deeply he could be a swan, he actually became one."

Emma listened to the story, holding the small figure tightly against her chest.

"My dad always said, believe hard enough in something and you can change your fate," he finished. "And as you're getting older, I thought you might appreciate that lesson."

Emma seemed dumbfounded by the words. "I do. I truly do," she spoke and hugged him tightly. "Thank you."

"It was a lovely detail from August, don't you think?" Snow smiled kindly, as they both rode their horses back to the castle.

"It sure was," Emma replied, forcing a smile on her face.

The gift was lovely, but the meaning of it to her was what really mattered. It felt like a heavenly sign had just landed right at her doorstep, screaming at her to just snap out of it.

You can change your fate.

She just had to believe she could.

Emma was certain by now that she had entirely lost her mind.

There wasn't any good reason for her to be there; if anything, it felt just as if she was entering the wolf's mouth. It's probably the most foolish thing she had ever done in her life, yet she kept on repeating to herself that she'd come too far to back down now.

A sign that read 'The Jackal's Inn' adorned the doors to the local pub, and Emma could hear the euphoric screams and singing coming from the drunken men even from outside. She could feel her stomach turning with anxiety at not knowing what could possibly wait for her in there, and she hated it.

Why was she even doing this? Coming here, probably risking her life like a fool.

She swore she wasn't doing it for him; because truly, she wasn't.

She was doing it because, somehow, she felt like she had something to prove. This was all a dangerous new world for her, far too different from her life in the castle, and if she backed down from it now – would she ever be more than just the fragile princess most would believe her to be?

Her mind flashed back to a couple of days before, when the adrenaline had pumped through her veins, making her feel more alive than ever. The rush and the danger had blurred out together, creating something she'd never felt before; and she wasn't about to let that feeling become forever lost in her memory.

So, after a few moments of hesitation, Emma finally took a deep breath and pushed the doors of the pub open.

The moment she stepped a foot into the pub, the first thing she noticed was that it was loud and dirty, and definitely not a place a princess should ever be in. Women in dresses that didn't cover much, sitting in the laps of men that drank and laughed loudly, forcefully clashing their cups together and spilling ale all over the tables.

Certainly, she felt completely out of place in there, and she had to repeat to herself a couple of times that she could do this. Quickly, she managed to find a table all for herself, the one farthest from the entrance, and farthest away from the loudest tables of customers.

She felt the sudden urge to look around; try to find a familiar face, catch a glimpse of those pair of blue eyes she'd told herself over and over she hadn't come here for. Yet, she fought the urge – if he was there, she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of having her look for him.

Emma sat down on one of the chairs. She could feel her hands sweaty, and she anxiously dragged them down the fabric of her dress. She'd learned her lesson from her previous visit in town; and now the dress she was wearing that evening was one of the simplest and oldest she had, all brown and beige, a bit worn-out. All of her jewels had been left aside back in the castle to avoid yet again getting any suspicious looks from the people of the town.

"D'you want anything to drink, ma'am?" A woman with a deep accent asked, startling her. Emma looked up to find an attractive brunette with a forced smile on her face, carrying a tray with cups of different sizes on one hand. Emma couldn't help but notice the woman didn't look too happy, annoyance lying behind her faked smile.

Emma bit down her lip. She knew she should probably order something, instead of just sitting there alone at that table, doing nothing like an idiot; but she had never drunk anything of what everyone else in the pub seemed to be having. Back in the castle, she'd only ever had the best wines, served in fancy golden goblets. "Do you have wine?"

The question provoked a giggle from the woman. "No fancy drinks around here, princess – only rum and ale."

Hearing the word princess come out from the woman's mouth made her feel like throwing up, and she tensed up at the idea that they've all already figured out who she really was. Quick enough, however, she identified the woman's tone as a mocking one, causing her to relax slightly, and instead frown at the waitress. "Nevermind, then."

"Actually – bring us a bottle of the finest rum you have."

A voice startled them both, making them jump slightly, just as Emma's heart suddenly raced as she recognized the thick accent right away.

Killian appeared from behind the waitress, grin on his face as he sat down across the table from Emma. He then winked at the woman. "Make it fast, love."

"Of course, captain," she gently nodded at him, and even from afar, Emma noticed the blush creeping down the woman's cheeks right before she hurried away from the table.

It all made her roll her eyes; it was clear the pirate was well aware of his good looks, and the effects they could have on women. She guessed he would probably use them more often than not to get whatever he wanted; lure women in with his forget-me-not blue eyes and his cocky smile.

Was she about to become one of his victims?

No –

"Aha, I knew you'd come, lass!" Killian claimed joyfully, a cocky grin spread across his features, yet she noticed a glint of surprise buried deep in his tone. "I was starting to wonder, though, what was taking you so long.

"Told you I was a busy girl."

Killian let out a snort, rolling his eyes as he replied, voice dripping sarcasm. "Right – horses been giving you trouble, heh? Or perhaps it's the crops?"

He'd raised a teasing eyebrow at her. Right; her lie to him had been that she was Ruth, the farm girl. Still, it was clear he didn't buy any of it. Emma shifted in her seat nervously and cleared her throat. "Yeah – exactly."

"I give it to you, love," Killian began with a chuckle, "You're the most terrible liar I've met."

Emma glared at him, feeling her cheeks slightly warmer. Crap.

"Does it even matter?" She attempted to shrug it off.

"Well, I have no idea of who you are," he refuted. "I don't even know your name – and don't say it's Ruth. You certainly do not look like a Ruth."

Emma's lips pressed into a thin line. If she gave him her name, he'd then place the pieces together and…

She'd surely become subject of a pirate kidnapping. Though, she wondered, if her own safety was the only thing that concerned her.

Deep down, a part of her enjoyed this – like a game of play pretend, she had become a mysterious, daring, nameless girl; much more interesting than her reality as a princess.

She tried to think of anything she could say to keep her identity still hidden, and for some reason, she thought back to her latest present, the one that sat in the hairdresser back in her room.

You can change your fate.

"Swan." The word slipped out of her mouth before she even realized it; still, a smile crept up her face. The word felt natural in her mouth, and she then repeated it with more confidence: "Swan. You can call me that."

"Swan?" Killian repeated the word with a mocking snort, leaning back against his chair and crossing his arms. He raised an eyebrow. "That's the best next thing you can come up with?"

"There's nothing wrong with Swan. And it's the only name you're going to get from me," Emma stated with a frown, and he opened his mouth to argue, yet their small banter was quickly interrupted by the waitress showing up.

The woman placed two shot glasses on the table in front of Emma and Killian and left the bottle right in the center. Emma noticed how the woman had made sure to graze her fingers along the pirate's shoulders as she left, a flirty smile on her face.

"That always happens?" Emma asked with amusement right after the woman had left, nodding at where she'd just been, eyebrows raised.

"What can I say, love?" he shrugged, a smug look on his face. "I've yet to find a woman who resists my charms."

Emma was sure she'd never known a person as cocky as he is, and it sure as hell annoyed her.

"I'm sure there's plenty who can," she replied with an eye-roll, watching him as he poured the drink on the glasses.

"You included?" Killian inquired as he offered her the small glass.

"Yes," she immediately responded, taking the cup from his hand.

Emma looked down at the clear drink, wrinkling up her nose as the strong scent reached her nostrils.

"Why'd you come here then, love?" he asked curiously.

Emma looked up at him, watching him as he took the glass to his lips and drank, placing the now empty glass on the table, and watched her back, gaze filled with curiosity.

"I didn't come here for you," she stated simply. She knew the answer wasn't enough, but how could she possibly explain her feelings to a complete stranger? How could she bare herself completely to him – tell him about how she wanted to be so much more than she already was, learn and see much more than what her life had offered her for nearly nineteen years.

How she wanted her life to offer her that feeling of rush, the excitement of not ever knowing what was about to come next.

"I just wanted to see what this place is like," she decided to simply say instead of baring her feelings to him, knowing it wasn't a convincing answer still she didn't care and allowed the drink to pour down her throat.

While Killian had drunk it as if it were mere water, Emma felt it burning all of her insides, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. "What the hell was that?" she exclaimed, shutting her eyes tightly.

Killian seemed surprised, then amused by her reaction. "It's called rum, love. You've never drunk before?"

"I have but –" Emma began with a grimace, making him laugh. "The beverages I'm used to are by far less distasteful as this."

"Don't worry, love, you'll stop noticing by the third shot."

And turned out, he was right about that – by the third time she's put the cup to her lips, she discovered the taste was not as bad as she remembered the first time to be.

Along with that, Emma also discovered a feeling of lightheadedness – she's felt it before, back in her fifteenth birthday, as her parents had finally allowed her to have a couple of glasses of wine. She'd ended up stomping on everyone's feet as they tried to dance, claiming that 'e'rything 's okay' to anyone that asked, and had woken up with the hell of a headache and a sick stomach the next morning.

So, the next time Killian tried pouring her yet another drink, Emma decided it was best to hurt her own pride slightly, and say no.

She'd beat him while fighting, he'd beat her while drinking.

It's that usual feeling of bravery that comes along with a couple of drinks, that allowed Emma to make the question that'd been bugging her since she'd met him, yet she'd been too afraid to ask.

"Can I ask you something?"

Killian raised an eyebrow at her. "Go ahead."

She cleared her throat, leaning over the table. "How'd you get it? I mean," she glanced down briefly at his left arm. "The hook."

Killian didn't seem bothered; in fact, it seemed like he'd actually been expecting the question. "It's a reminder. To kill the crocodile that took my hand," he stated calmly.

"A crocodile took your hand?" Emma repeated dumbfounded. Something about the way he spoke the words, made her feel unsure if he was really speaking of a crocodile per se.

"It's not a fun tale, love," he replied and took yet another shot of rum. "And not one I intend to share tonight."

There was a dangerous glint in his tone, one warning her not to try and push the subject any further, and she decided to keep quiet and not continue asking.

"Now, I barely know anything about you, Swan." He was quick to change the subject of the conversation, and a small smile appeared on Emma's face as he used the nickname she'd told him. "Tell me something – anything."

Emma raised her eyebrows, "What do you want me to say?"

"Whatever comes to mind."

Emma hesitated; what could she possibly tell him that wouldn't give her away? All of her life revolved around her castle and her duties as a princess, and that was something she couldn't speak of while being with him.

But she was more than her life as a princess, wasn't she? That was what she'd been wanting to prove all along.

After a couple of moments, she opened her mouth and spoke the first thing that came to her mind:

"Well, I've… I've always wanted to see the world," she told him. "Even if it's just for a moment, to get away from here and pretend I'm just…"

A normal girl. Not a princess, not the product of true love, not someone to be cared after and protected. Free to do whatever her heart wished for, go wherever she wanted to.

"You're just…?" Killian repeated, asking her to continue.

Emma sighed. "Someone different than who I am today."

Killian raised a questioning eyebrow. "And why would you ever want that?"

His eyes were buried into hers, and Emma had to look away for a moment, intimidated by how to her it seemed like he was looking into and analyzing each and every corner of her soul.

"My life isn't really interesting," she shrugged. "Surely not as interesting as a pirate's might be."

"I don't believe that." Killian leaned back into his seat. "You might as well be the most interesting lass I've encountered in a long time."

Killian's words faded into the background as another thing caught Emma's attention, and her eyes focused right behind him, noticing a couple of guards entering the pub.

Turning her head to the side, she looked out through the nearest window: she could barely see anything, as it was pitch black outside.

"Crap, how long have we been here?" Emma mutedly cursed, sinking slightly into her seat, hoping the guards wouldn't take a second look in her direction. "I need to get going."

Killian seemed confused. "The night's still fairly young, lass."

"Yeah, but I really need to go," Emma insisted, eyes flickering back to the guards, who spoke to one of the waitresses. Killian turned slightly, following her trail of sight. "I can't let them see me."

He looked back at her, his confusion turned into surprise. "You've gotten yourself into some trouble lately, Swan?"

"Yeah, you could say so," she mumbled with a frown. Could it possibly be that her parents were looking for her now?

Killian seemed thoughtful for a brief second, before sighing, and leaning closer to her. "See that door? It leads to the kitchens," he explained, discreetly pointing at the wooden door at the back of the pub. "There's a backdoor in there. I'll meet you outside, aye?"

Before she'd even gotten a chance to reply, the pirate had already gotten up to his feet, turning around from the table and walking off, passing right next to the guards at an awfully calm pace.

And the next thing he did had Emma raising her eyebrows in surprise.

He smacked down the bottom of the waitress walking by, causing her to jump and turn around, searching for whoever had done so.

But as quick as the waitress had turned around, he was already gone out of sight, leaving the woman to think it'd been one of the guards who'd smacked her.

"'Ey, don't you have any manners?!"

Emma used the brief moment of distraction to her advantage, getting up to her feet and rushing towards the door.

The pub's kitchens felt definitely hot and were a whole lot dirtier than the kitchens back in her castle. Emma hurried past a couple of cooks dicing up onions and carrots, and the hot cauldrons filled with what seemed a not-so-appetizing stew.

"Oi, what yer doing here, lass?!" one exclaimed, as she nearly ran into him.

Emma quickly pushed past him, exclaiming a sorry! right before pushing the back door open and running outside.

The cold air of the street hit her, and just like that, she found herself alone in a small alley. The streets were awfully dark and silent, and Emma folded her arms over her chest, the chilly night air making her shudder.

It didn't take more than a minute for Killian to let himself be known.

"Swan."

"Hook," Emma nodded at him, as he took a couple of long steps towards her. "Thank you… for helping me back in there."

"No need to thank me, love," he shrugged, and then gave her a questioning look. "What could you have possibly done to have royal guards looking for you?"

Of course, he'd be asking questions.

With a sigh, Emma shook her head. "It's a long story, and I need to get home now."

It wasn't a lie, after all. And, surprisingly, Killian nodded in understanding.

"Another day then, lass," he said. "Should I accompany you, love?"

She chuckled at the chivalrous offer, one she hadn't been expecting from the pirate. "No need, captain. I can take care of myself."

"I've already noticed that," Killian replied with a small laugh.

They fell into silence, and Emma took it as her cue to leave. She nodded at him.

"Good night."

Killian didn't allow her to walk past him, however, as he grabbed her arm. "Wait, Swan –" he spoke, making her turn around to face him. "Come back – soon. I'll be waiting."

She tried to find malice or any glint of that usual mischief of his in his face, but instead, she found something that scared her slightly: hope.

"Why's that, Hook?" she wondered, the glimpse of a smile appearing on her lips. "You enjoyed my company tonight?"

The usual cocky look on his face was quick to return to his features. "A pirate should not keep his treasure out of sight."

"So now I'm a treasure to loot?"

"Perhaps," he answered, and he seemed to be trying to hold back a faint smile. "I'm still trying to figure that out."

Emma wasn't sure of what he really meant with those words, but for some reason, it brought a smile to her face.

The cold night air and the long ride home helped Emma sober up slightly. She had no idea of how late it was, but surely, it was late enough for her to be in trouble.

Her assumptions were confirmed by the guard attending his night shift by the entrance of the castle, as she rode through the bridge.

"Your highness!" he exclaimed, as she halted her ride in front of him. She couldn't see his face through the helmet, but the tone in his voice expressed worry. "What were you doing outside, at these hours? The king and queen are worried sick."

Emma threw her head back slightly and sighed. She was surely in lots of trouble. "I should've known."

"They've ordered us all to report immediately to them if we were to find you," the guard explained. "Allow me to accompany you inside, milady."

"There's no need, sir," Emma shook her head. "I perfectly know the way around my castle on my own. Thank you, still."

Leaving the guard behind, she led Autumn back to the stables, jumping off of her, and giving her a couple of pats as a good night. And then, she walked all by herself through the dark, quiet grounds towards the castle.

Emma opened the large doors to the castle carefully and slowly, cringing slightly when the door creaked for a second. She was sure most of the castle's servants were already fast asleep, and the last thing she wanted was to make noise while entering and waking anyone up.

She wondered what she could possibly say as an excuse for her being outside, so late at these hours. Perhaps, if she only said she'd just lost track of time while being at Red's… but no, if her parents had been that worried to have guards looking for her, they surely had first made sure Red nor any of their friends had any idea of where she was.

Tip-toeing into the room, she quickly came to realize she didn't really have any time at all to figure her excuses out – as she quickly spotted her parents pacing around the large room as soon as the door had closed behind her.

Snow was the first to notice her presence.

"Oh, Emma!" Before Emma even knew it, Snow had already run towards her, and soft arms had wrapped tightly around her, and she had her mother's face buried deep in her hair. Soon enough, Snow pulled away from the embrace, taking a few moments to check Emma's entire figure, searching for any signs of damage. "We were so worried. Are you okay? What happened?"

"Mom, it's fine," Emma began, yet the frown on Snow's face only deepened.

Dear Gods, don't let me still smell of rum.

"Where were you?" David was the one to speak now, his look of concern imitating Snow's as he approached his daughter.

Emma could taste defeat before she'd even opened her mouth to speak; lying to her parents would be useless, so she just admitted: "I was visiting the town."

As expected, she saw her parents' faces turn from concern to surprise and then, especially David's, to anger.

"The town? You mean you were out there at this hour, without guards, without any type of protection…" David began.

"I was doing just fine, dad. Nothing happened to me, I promise," Emma interrupted quickly, in an attempt to fix the situation.

"Still, you're exposing yourself - without anyone knowing or around to protect you," David replied sternly.

"Can't you just place some trust in me already?" Emma couldn't help but feel exasperated. "I'm not a child anymore, I don't need someone watching over me everywhere I go."

"Honey, understand it's not you that we don't trust, it's…" Snow quickly chimed in, trying to act as a mediator between the tempers of both father and daughter, yet Emma knew exactly what she was going to say.

For as long as Emma could remember, it'd been like that. Her peaceful kingdom hadn't always been peaceful, and her parents feared things would someday return to their old ways.

More specifically, that she would someday return to her old ways, come back to haunt them, and take away all that's precious to them.

So, they took extra measures to make sure Emma would always be safe. And Emma understood, mainly the days when she was in a good mood, but tonight –

She was just tired of not being able to just live her life.

"Regina's been gone for years now!" she snapped, frustrated, "Since I was born, and you're watching over me like I'm a baby, just because you're afraid she might get me!"

"There are things you don't understand, Emma," David responded sternly.

"I understand you've allowed your life to be consumed by your fear of her coming back for us!"

"That's enough!" David rose his voice, and Emma flinched slightly. In the few moments he ever acted like this, she could see him more like the king he was, than the fatherly figure he'd always been. Decided and stern, a king anyone would be a fool to try and defy. "You cannot leave the castle without the royal guards, or your mother and myself. Do you understand me? That's an order."

Emma opened her mouth to argue, but the look on her father's face told her there was no point in it. She'd already lost the battle, and there was nothing she could do about it.

"Fine," she claimed with a frustrated sighed. "Good night, mom. Father," Emma addressed him with a sharp nod, and turned away upstairs, to her room.

For some reason, as he laid on his bed, and the swift swaying of his ship relaxed him until he was nearly asleep, she popped right into his brain.

It wasn't the first time either – truthfully, she'd been appearing in his thoughts ever since he'd seen her walking around that town, looking like something he'd never seen before. She easily stood out from any crowd; not only for her beauty but for something about the way she carried herself, so graceful and gentle. Yet, he'd seen her be sharp and fierce, a fiery personality contrasting against her perfectly polished looks.

He'd spent many nights after that first day thinking back to her, wondering if perhaps the beautiful girl who'd bested him twice had been just a mirage, a product of his imagination. After all, something about her definitely felt ethereal, magical – almost like a dream.

He had found himself more and more wondering if he'd ever see her again, even just for a moment, so he'd know she'd been real.

And then she'd showed up at the bar. He'd seen her, walking into the place with her head up high, and it was like she'd suddenly lit up the entire room. He'd felt hypnotized, suddenly not caring about the wenches who'd caught his attention earlier that evening.

It was she the only thing that suddenly occupied all of his thoughts.

At least, he'd gotten to know a little more about the mysterious girl that night. Swan, that was her name – or at least, the name she wanted him to call her by. He'd at first laughed at the nickname she'd given herself, seeming ridiculous to him at first, still the more he thought about it, he realized it was damn spot-on. There was surely a swan-like grace to her.

But who was she, really? Not an ordinary girl, that was for sure. The question seemed to haunt him since he'd met her, and he wondered why it mattered so much to him learning the answer.

Why was it that he felt so determined to get to know her, to learn the mysteries that lied beneath that pretty face of hers –

He rubbed his hand through his face, hoping to shake the thoughts away. Whoever this bloody lass was, she should not be occupying his thoughts like this.

He'd come here to find information to help him kill the Dark One, not to flirt and lose sleep over a nameless beauty.

He couldn't lose his focus, now that he was so close.

And he wouldn't allow that Swan-girl to get under his skin just like that.

That was the last thought that popped into his brain before the waves finish rocking him into sleep.

More often than not, his dreams start happy. He'd sail the seas next to Liam, or peacefully hold Milah in his arms. He dreamt of himself as a man of honor, with the people he's loved and the opportunity of a good future.

But they all always ended up the same way. Fights and blood and death.

And loneliness.

It's all he remembers by the time he wakes up; the feeling of loneliness and hurt.

That night, right before his dreams twist and turn dark with every deep fear held in his heart, he dreamt of something different.

It's a woman. His eyes are closed but he could feel her under him, as his lips trail down and savor the salty taste of her skin, feeling every curve of her body.

He tasted every inch of her skin, over and over until she writhes and pants beneath him, and he feels her come undone.

It's only when he pulls back up to kiss her, settling between her legs, that he opens his eyes and locks them with hers – finding them to be a lovely shade of green.

By the morning, he remembered none of it.