Chapter 4 - Leaps of Faith.

Emma woke up with a groan, feeling a drumming in her head that she soon realized were the sounds of knocking on her door.

"What is it?" she exclaimed as the knocking persisted, throwing the blankets off of herself.

"Breakfast, milady." Emma recognized the voice of one of her handmaidens, Jane, speaking right outside her door. "The king and queen are waiting for you downstairs."

For some reason, the idea of eating breakfast made her nauseous.

She quickly remembered why – the previous night and the three shots of rum reappearing into her head, and she pressed her hand over her mouth; the memory of the bitter taste of the beverage making her feel like she was going to vomit.

And then there was Killian and her fight with her parents.

Emma groaned.

Since when had everything become so complicated?

She got up from her bed with a jump – cursing to herself for a brief second as the rushed movement had only worsened her headache, and then she walked to the door, opening slightly so she was face to face with her handmaiden.

"Tell them to begin without me. I'm not really hungry," Emma told her, feeling her mouth extremely dry. "Could you bring me some fresh water, though, Jane?"

Jane nodded, excusing herself and heading downstairs quickly.

Emma threw herself onto her bed as soon as the door was closed, shutting her eyes tightly as she willed her headache away. She focused on the sound of her breathing, her chest heaving, and she found herself nearly about to fall asleep once more.

She felt that no more than a minute had passed before knocks were heard on the door once more, and her eyes fluttered open.

"Come on in, Jane."

"Jane said you weren't hungry, but I thought you might want at least some fruit"

Of course, it wasn't Jane.

"Mom," Emma breathed out in surprise, rising into a sitting position as her mother walked into the room, a tray of fresh fruits and bread and a jar of water perfectly balanced in her hands.

Snow left the tray on top of the table by the corner of her room and sat on one of the chairs.

"I'm not hungry," Emma shook her head.

"You can eat later, then," Snow said sweetly, and Emma was certain her mother being there wasn't just because breakfast was the most important meal of the day. Sure enough, after a brief silence, the older woman inquired: "Are you still upset over what happened last night?"

As she'd always had, Snow acted as a mediator whenever there was an argument within the royal family. Her calm yet firm personality often soothed both father and daughter's more volatile behaviors.

"My father, he's… he's insufferable sometimes," Emma said with a scowl.

Snow sighed, getting up and walking towards the bed, sitting right next to Emma. "I know your dad can be a little stubborn sometimes, but so can you. And all he does, he does because he loves you. He was worried sick last night."

"Yeah, I know," Emma sighed, guilt making her feel even more nauseous than the hangover had. She took her mother's hand in her own. "I'm sorry I scared you last night, I just…"

"I know, my love," Snow interrupted her, a sad smile on her face. "I'm sorry too. I wish we could've given you much more."

The words surprised Emma, who watched her mother wide-eyed. "No, mom – Mom, you've given me everything –"

"Oh, don't lie to me, Emma," Snow waved her words off. "I'm your mother, I feel it. I know you want more than this… But being a princess means you have to put your kingdom first, always. It's never an easy life, but it can be a happy one, dear. I know you've never been one to stand back and wait, but believe me, good things are in your fate," she tucked a strand of blond hair behind Emma's ear. "I've felt it in my bones since you were inside of me. You just have to wait and see."

All Emma was able to do in response was to hug her mother tightly.

"Thank you, mom," she said.

"I'll speak to your dad," Snow continued after pulling back. "I might be able to make him loosen up a bit about letting you go out every once in a while. Now, how about you finish up your breakfast and accompany me out – Hilda's coming tomorrow morning, so I thought we could buy some silks for our dresses."

Hilda was the queen's and princess' old seamstress. She was the one in charge of finishing up their dresses for the upcoming ball, and always, she made the most beautiful dresses, making both mother and daughter stand out from all crowd.

And while she wasn't feeling too enthusiast over the ball, she knew accompanying her mother would make her happy – and she could just not bear to reject her.

Emma smiled. "Of course, mom."

"I don't know, dear," Snow frowned slightly, watching the piece of fabric her daughter held out for her to see. They stood in the middle of a small shop, filled with all sorts of fabrics, of different colors. "I think that color makes you seem too pale."

Emma threw aside the light blue fabric and reassumed her search for another color.

"Hmm…" Emma bit down the insides of her cheek. "Aha," she exclaimed triumphantly, as she pulled out a deep red fabric, and showed it to her mother. "How about this one?"

She was certain it was the perfect color for her dress, and the queen seemed to agree on that.

Snow grinned. "Ah, you'll look lovely, darling! I can't wait to see you wearing it. I must tell Hilda to hurry with her work, we can't afford the dresses to be in too late –"

Emma cut off her mom's rambling. "Mom. The ball will be weeks from today."

"Exactly. There's no time to lose."

Emma rolled her eyes.

A few moments later, they'd walked out from the shops, their silks to be delivered to the castle by that afternoon. A couple of guards had been waiting for them just outside by the doors of the shop, watching over their horses.

"Should we go back now?" Emma turned to ask her mother.

Snow seemed thoughtful for just a moment, pursing her lips into a thin line. "Actually… I still need to find some matching ribbons. Do you mind waiting for me for just a moment?"

The suggestion threw Emma aback, still, she nodded in response. "Of course."

Snow gave her a small smile, and then addressed the guards. "Come."

One of them seemed hesitant.

"Shan't I stay here and look out for the princess, your majesty?" he asked.

Snow watched Emma for a couple of seconds, as if thinking it over, and then shrugged. "I'm sure she'll do fine by herself. It'll take us just a couple of minutes, surely."

And just like that, the queen gave her daughter a knowing smile – a smile that said I trust you – and walked away, guards following quickly behind her.

Emma took a couple of steps around, watching her surroundings. From afar, she could see the sea and the town's port, with maybe half a dozen ships decked. She couldn't help but wonder which one of them belonged to her newfound acquaintance.

Killian. That stupid pirate seemed to always find a way back into her brain.

Being with him that night before had been… definitely more pleasing than she'd expected.

And then he'd said he would be waiting for her. Would he really?

Would he be going to that bar, night after night, hopeful to catch a glimpse of her face?

The idea made her feel a warmth rushing through her being, for just a second.

The real question, however, was – would she go to him once again? She would be lying if she said she didn't want to, but…

Was it really the right thing to do?

Just like it was meant to be; as if fate was shooting a heavenly sign at her to answer all of her lingering questions, she saw him as she'd been turning around – or at least she'd believed she saw him, caught a glimpse of that usual leather outfit and that black tousled hair of his, walking out from one of the stores not too far from her. She wasn't certain if it was him, but at the moment the resemblance had been enough to make her move from where she'd been standing and approach him.

A surprised yet pleased smile appeared on her face, as after a couple of steps, she was certain it was him. "Hook," she called after him and watched him turn around quickly upon hearing the moniker, a surprised expression on his face that soon turned into a broad grin. She then added, holding back a chuckle as she teased him, "Are you following me?"

"Swan." Killian breathed out. "I could ask the same thing. What are you doing here?"

"Oh, just some shopping," she answered, and oh, things would be much easier if all the questions he asked were as easy to answer truthfully as that one was. "What about yourself? What were you up to?"

He shook his head. "Nothing that concerns you, lass."

"Oh." Emma's grin fell slightly, and Killian watched her, seeming thoughtful for a moment.

After some brief silence, he spoke: "I was looking for a damsel."

They began walking side by side, without really any direction at all, at a very slow pace.

"Oh." This time her brow furrowed deeply, a feeling of disappointment suddenly running through her veins, and she very much hated it and hated herself for feeling like that. She played it off, however, by giving him a mocking snort. "Well, after witnessing how women from around here react to you, I'm sure whoever she is, she'll be thrilled to have captain Hook searching for her.

"I – um, I didn't mean it like that." He seemed surprised, and then scratched the back of his ear, nervously. "There's this woman… she can give me information about the crocodile."

Emma recalled his story the previous night, about a crocodile taking his hand. Except she was now pretty certain it's not a crocodile he's referring to.

"The man you're looking for…" Emma carefully began, and Killian nodded. "Any luck?"

"Unfortunately, no. The last clue I've got was that she came to the local pub not too long ago, and then… It seems like she poofed into thin air," he spoke, frustration clear in his voice.

"Who is she?" she asked curiously.

Killian hesitated. "A woman named Belle."

It took all of her willpower to keep her face as still as she could and not to stop dead in her tracks, as surprise and confusion rushed throughout her.

Was he talking about Belle - her friend Belle?

No –

Commoners always loved naming their children after royalties – so just like Emma had, she was sure Belle had become quite a popular name since the princess' birth.

It couldn't be her. The dead giveaway was the fact he was looking for her around the town - when Belle in reality remained locked away in Rumplestiltskin's castle, unable to leave.

Emma felt a dozen of curious questions about this woman and why was she important to him, but the idea of her being her Belle had her growing nervous; so she decided it was best to not push the subject. She cleared her throat, "I'm sorry I can't help you. I have no idea."

"I didn't expect you to. Normal people aren't interested in the whereabouts of princesses."

He seemed to think nothing of the information he'd just given out, but to Emma, it was a fact that made her halt in surprise.

Killian seemed to notice her sudden stop, and Emma looked away in an attempt to disguise her reaction to his words. They were near the docks, she could see the sea and ships swaying against the crashing waves. A perfect way to shift the conversation into another subject.

"Which one is yours?"

"Eh?"

"The ships. Which one is yours?" Emma repeated the question. Turning her face to watch him, she saw a mischievous glint suddenly appear in his eyes.

He grabbed her arm gently, pushing her to keep on walking. "Let's go and find out," he spoke with a smirk.

Emma pulled her arm away, keeping right where she stood. She looked behind herself. Would her mother be already looking for her? "I'm not sure I should –"

"Have somewhere else to be, love?" she heard him say and turned her face to look at him.

"In fact, I do."

"That's unfortunate. I thought I might show you my ship - I promise if you stick long enough to see the sunrise, you'll see it's something else from up there," he was being truthful, almost hopeful. However, a glint of mischief appeared on his face, as he added, "And besides, you still owe me the story of why you're in such trouble with the royal guards."

"Well, I wouldn't have thought of you as the curious type," Emma teased him, avoiding the question. "Didn't you know curiosity killed the cat, captain?"

He snorted and leaned into her, cocky grin on his face. "I'm no cat, love."

In an impulse of confidence, Emma took a small step towards him, mimicking his smirk. "Perhaps you could invite me for another drink sometime. Then, I might tell you my story, Hook."

Her heart skipped a beat as she came to notice they'd both had taken steps towards the other, leaning quite close to each other. They were so close, she could notice the little details she'd never seen before – that small scar on his right cheek, the reddish tint his stubble had under the sunlight; and damn his soul, he was truly a sight.

He seemed to be staring just as much as she was; at what exactly, she wasn't sure, but his cocky smile faltered, and so did hers. Like they'd both fallen under some sort of spell, the ambiance suddenly turning quite flirty, and then…

"Step back!"

A man's voice coming closer made them jump and pull away from the other, snapping them both out of the trance; and Emma felt her stomach sinking as she saw the uniformed man approaching them: one of the guards that'd been watching over her and her mother.

Killian's eyes met hers, and she noticed a small glint of panic in his eyes that mirrored hers. For a brief second, she wondered what it was about, but quickly realized, he was concerned for her, believing the guard was out to get her.

So, of course, a string of confused and surprised curses left the pirate's mouth as the guard unsheathed his sword in the blink of an eye, pressing it against Killian's neck.

"Was this man doing you any harm, your highness?" the guard addressed her, and both Killian and Emma responded to his words simultaneously:

"No!"

"Your highness?!"

The words coming from Killian made her cringe – just like that, her cover had been blown up. She felt Killian's eyes burying into her; however, she kept her focus on the guard. "Let him go. He was being friendly; he just showed me around."

"But – but, milady," the guard stammered. "He's a pirate. You were lucky he didn't harm you."

"Gee, you've heard the lass," Killian chimed in, annoyed, eyes still solely focused on the princess. "She just told you to let me go."

"Have a little more respect for the crown prin-"

"He's right," Emma spoke over the man in annoyance, crossing her arms over her chest. "I've just given you an order. Let him leave, now."

"Forgive me, then, princess," the guard gave her a court nod, putting the sword away from Killian's neck, who immediately took a small step back – muttering curses under his breath as he rubbed his neck. "The Queen is ready to head back to the castle and asked me to come to look for you."

"Thank you. We'll get going now," Emma nodded at the man politely and then turned to Killian, who stared at her in a mix of emotions – surprise and awe and disbelief.

She felt the urge to explain, to let him know it hadn't been her intention to lie to him, hoping he'd understand. But right then and there, she was no longer Swan – she was princess Emma, and she had to play the part. Giving a sharp look at the guard, who seemed to understand right away, as he turned his back from them, Emma faced back to Killian and gave him a small curtsy.

"Thank you, Captain, for walking me all this way here. You are very kind," she spoke calmly, like the diplomat she was.

Killian raised a curious eyebrow at her; however, he then nodded and, just like he'd had the day they'd met, took her hand in his and placed it to his lips. "It was my pleasure, your highness," he said, and Emma could sense the small glint of irony in his voice. Then, he added in a hushed tone, mumbling against her skin. "You have a lot to explain, Swan."

"I know," she mouthed the words.

He released her hand, taking a quick step towards her. He leaned into her, making her breathing hitch, as she felt his breath on her skin. "Tomorrow at noon, by the port. I'll be waiting."

And just like that, he had turned around and walked away from the scene.

Emma watched him leave, biting down her lower lip. Tomorrow.

She quickly composed herself, turning her gaze away from Killian to look at the guard. She cleared her throat and spoke to him as he'd turned his face to her. "I'm ready to leave. Lead the way, sir."

The guard turned around and gave her a brief nod, before starting to walk, with Emma following closely behind him.

"I hope you're well aware you are to be discreet about this. There's no need to make my mother worry over something as trivial as this," she spoke after a couple of steps.

He remained quiet for some brief seconds. "Yes, your grace."

They continued walking in silence, and Emma's mind raced, thoughts filled with Killian and herself and all that'd just happened. Would he be upset that she'd lied?

Or would he be thrilled to find his newfound acquaintance happened to be a very rich princess?

Emma pushed the thoughts out of her brain as soon as she spotted her mother, waiting for her along with the other guard, and she forced a wide grin.

"Where were you off to, my love?" Snow asked kindly, locking her daughter's arm with her own.

"I got distracted looking at the sea and the ships. It's a lovely view," Emma simply stated with a shrug.

The only thing Emma truly wished for as she arrived back to the castle, along with her mother, was a long, relaxing bath. Thankfully, her handmaidens had already taken care of most of the task; as she came to find her tub already filled with bubbling, warm water.

Emma had been quick to send them away with a polite thank you and stripped out of her clothes as soon as the door was closed. Her dress quickly fell to the floor, and she slipped a toe into the bathtub, checking the temperature before sinking entirely into the water.

She sighed happily at the feeling of warm water against her skin, and leaned her head back, closing her eyes for a couple of moments as she allowed her muscles to relax under the heat.

Tomorrow at noon.

It would be mad of her to go back to him - when he already knew who she was.

She couldn't hide her identity from him anymore. She could no longer avoid his questions, no longer she could hide behind a fake name – she was princess Emma to him now, and as the pirate he was, he would see her just as the crown that usually would rest upon her head, see her as just the riches that filled her castle.

Another treasure to loot.

It was bound to happen, of course. Her little pretense was only made to eventually break.

How long had she believed this could last? Sneaking out, pretending to be someone else –

She was nothing but a princess and he…

He's not somebody you should care for.

"Dumbass," Emma mumbled to herself, splashing water on her face as if trying to make herself snap out of it. Since when did it matter so much what a stranger thought of her?

She absent-mindedly scrubbed the soap against her skin, to then let the water wash away the bubbles that have latched onto her body.

And then there was what he'd said…

Belle. He was looking for Belle.

He'd right then and there had confirmed it, by saying the woman he looked for was a princess.

But what could Belle have to offer in Killian's quest to get revenge on the so-called crocodile?

And why would he ever think Belle was out there when in reality she was to be imprisoned by perhaps the darkest sorcerer ever known.

Rumplestiltskin, that was his name. Emma had never had the distaste of meeting him in person, but she'd heard the stories. Both her parents had met him a couple of times before she'd been born, struck deals with him, and both recalled the experiences to be quite displeasing.

The stories she'd heard from him had a lot of times brought nightmares into her bed in her younger years; picturing the man as some sort of evil monster.

Snow would use the term beastly. Crazy and powerful, with scaly skin and those big yellow eyes, staring right into her soul.

Almost like a...

Crocodile.

The thought made her stand up quickly from the tub, not caring about the large amount of water that had just splashed down onto the floor or the couple of bubbles that still remained unwashed from her skin. How had she not made that connection earlier?

Emma quickly moved around her room, towel wrapped around her body, as she hurried to find a simple dress to place over her figure.

So, wet hair falling over her shoulders, she rushed down the stairs of her tower, only stopping as she'd found herself inside the castle's library.

As she closed the door behind herself, she took a minute to think what it was she really needed. If there was a place to look for information in the kingdom, this would certainly be it: with hundreds of tall bookshelves, filled with thousands of books, some that dated even back to the beginnings of the castle.

Whatever she needed, she would find it in here.

The question, really, was why she was doing this?

She should put a blind eye on all this; allow the pirate to go all by himself down his path of revenge, or whatever. But there was Belle – and then there was him. If her trail of thought was correct, then the pirate was foolishly planning to take on the most powerful dark wizard alive by himself, and it was all something she felt she couldn't ignore.

She needed to make sense of all this mess, somehow; and the only thing she could think of at the moment was reading.

Emma's first stop was by a couple of shelves filled with books about all sorts of magic, and for perhaps an hour, she carefully examined all the titles before finally deciding to take three large books with her.

Just as she was about to walk out of the library, carrying the heavy books in her arms, she stopped as an idea quickly popped into her head, and she took one final book – Contemporary History of the Enchanted Forest. Emma could remember reading it a couple of times before, and she was certain that on more than a couple of occasions, the name Rumplestiltskin was mentioned among the pages.

The walk upstairs to her room was a long one, struggling as her arms were filled with big, heavy books. The books were quickly thrown into her bed as soon as she'd managed to get the door of her room opened; and the princess soon followed into the bed, getting comfortable as she sure as hell had a lot to read.

The first book she'd picked to read, Theory of the Dark Magics, had been a complete waste of time. Emma went quickly through the pages, finding nothing but explanations on how to cast spells and curses, perform voodoo magic and make potions. There weren't any mentions of the Dark One or anything that could pique her interest.

She ended up closing it with a loud thump, a groan leaving her mouth as it clearly wasn't what she looked for.

Just as Emma had set the book aside on the bed, and grabbed the second one, a couple of knocks on the door made her jump. Her gaze raised to the entrance of her room; realizing how difficult it would be to explain to anyone why was it that she'd suddenly taken interest in reading about dark magics, she quickly took the rest of the books in her hands, except for the history one, and threw them under the bed.

She grabbed the remaining book and placed it on her lap, opening it at a random page, just as she exclaimed: "Come in!"

Emma pretended to focus on the book right in front of her as she heard the doorknob turning, raising her head to find David's head had just peaked out from the door as he spoke. "Hey, sweetheart."

"Hi dad," Emma greeted him, curving her lips into a faint smile. "Did something happen?"

"No, just – we've been waiting for you downstairs," David spoke with a frown, leaning against the doorframe. "It's time for dinner."

"Oh – right, right. I'm sorry, I had completely lost track of time," she replied, shaking her head as she closed the book and set it aside. "I'll be down right away."

David nodded, and Emma expected him to leave just then, but instead, he lingered. He wore a troubled expression Emma had seen a quite few times in him before; mostly whenever he'd argued with her.

"Has something been bothering you, Emma?"

Emma's eyebrows raised. "What?"

David took a couple of slow steps into the room, shutting the door behind him, and approached the bed. "Well, your mother and I believe you've been… behaving oddly lately," he explained, taking a seat next to her on the bed.

Of course, they did. She'd be a fool to ever think she could fool her parents. They knew her like no one ever did.

"It's nothing to worry about, dad, it's just…" Emma hesitated for a moment, wondering what to say.

She would never lie to her parents, mostly because she didn't need to, and the few times she'd done it they had caught her right away. But now, she could perfectly picture David starting a witch hunt to find the darned pirate who'd made his baby girl sneak out of the castle and had her drinking in taverns.

No – she had enough trouble already trying to figure out what was really going on with herself and said pirate, and the last thing she needed was an overprotective David stepping right on their toes. So, knowing lying was futile and speaking the truth was not the best of ideas, she settled for something in between.

Truth omission, she called it.

"I just… Lately, I've been hoping for…" she began and struggled to find the words. "I wish I could see and know more than what I can see and learn in here. You and mom went through so much and I… it's silly, but I've always wished for an adventure of my own."

The words she spoke were truthful, at least – she thought back to all the stories of her parents, the epic journey they both went through only to run right back into each other, again and again.

She'd never find that while being kept hidden behind the tall walls of the castle.

David seemed thoughtful.

"You know, you have a wild spirit, just like your mother…" he spoke after some brief moments of silence with a sigh, yet a small smile graced his features. "You were right, I am scared – scared you'll ever have to face the dangers your mom and I had to endure back in our youth. Perhaps, when you have a child of your own, you'll understand my fear." He paused. "But maybe… Maybe I should start placing a little more trust in you from now on. Allow you to take your chances."

He placed a hand on his daughter's knee. "Just promise me to be careful, will you, dear?"

The conversation had taken a turn Emma had certainly not been expecting, and glad that she wouldn't have to worry that much about her father's overprotectiveness, she grinned widely at him – placing a small kiss on the older man's cheek. "I promise, daddy," Emma grinned at him, before adding: "And thank you."

There was still the glimpse of a troubled look on David's face yet he nodded, smiling back at his daughter, and took her hand in his, helping her up from the bed. "Now come on, I'm starving."

The next morning, Emma was awoken by the Queen and her handmaidens bursting right into the room. Before she'd gotten enough time to blink away her sleep and become well-aware of what was going on around her, they'd gotten her up on her feet, and started taking measures of her body – her arms and chest and hips; all while the elderly seamstress, Hilda, wrapped pieces of red fabric around her, sticking them in place with a couple of pins.

She watched the scene unfold in a blur, absent-mindedly hearing her mother make suggestions, and every now and then hearing Hilda ask questions about how would she like the dress length to be and any other details, to which Emma would reply kindly, though she wouldn't really put much thought into her answers.

While her body was present, a living mannequin as they prepared her dress for the ball, her mind had flown away from the moment she'd woken up.

I'll be waiting.

He'd be waiting for her to meet up with him, give him some answers.

He deserved some answers, and for some odd reason, she longed to open up and speak truthfully for once to this man.

But it was stupid, too stupid to even be considering it.

She should be afraid of him, that she'd known from the beginning. She'd heard the stories, that pirates were cruel and ruthless and cared of nothing but their gold.

And now she wasn't just a mysterious, nameless girl. She was Princess Emma of Misthaven, and if that didn't cause her any trouble, then she didn't know what else would.

In moments like that, she had the childish urge to run to her mother, lay her head on the older woman's lap and let her comb her fingers through her hair, as she asked for advice.

She knew quite well, though, what Snow's piece of advice would be in most cases: follow your heart.

And Emma wondered if perhaps there was something wrong with her heart because it seemed to urge her into seeing him again.

It'd become a constant fight inside of her brain throughout the day, of what was right and what she longed for; until she was eating lunch in the dining hall with her parents, and she could swear the grand clock by one of the walls ticked louder than it ever had before.

Tomorrow by noon.

So, she finished the food in her place at a way too quick pace and hopped up from her seat as soon as she was done with it, words coming out of her mouth in a rush: "I'm in need of fresh air. Is it okay if I go out?"

David stared at her, baffled. "But we have practice in a couple of h-"

"I know, I know," Emma quickly interrupted him. "I'll be back in time, I promise."

Her parents shared a glance, and after a couple of seconds of suspense, David nodded in response, and that's all she could possibly need before she turned around and took long steps away from the table.

The door closed behind her with a thud that resonated around the room, and David sighed, running a hand through his greying hair.

"Is this because of a –" he began, the word 'guy' getting choked up in his throat.

"I thought I was the only one who'd noticed," Snow stated, a curious yet amused look on her face, as she watched her very distraught husband from across the table.

"Do you think we should…?"

She quickly shook her head. "You know better than to push Emma. She'll come to us once she's ready."

"Yeah – yeah," David nodded a couple of times, the frown on his face softening. "Good. I don't really think I'm ready to have that kind of talk with her."

Emma found, as she walked by the docks, it wasn't hard identifying his ship, at all.

The ship stood out from the others; large and beautiful, without not even the slightest trace of damage from all the adventures Emma could barely begin to imagine she'd gone through. Of course, his ship had to be the most magnificent among the docks.

Also, she'd read enough about pirates in her books to recognize the crimson flag high up in the ship's mast, identifying her as a pirate ship.

And the captain, of course, was waiting for her just as he'd told her; Killian was leaning against the hard wood of his ship, looking out on the street, clearly looking for somebody with his gaze. As soon as his eyes locked with hers, his lips curved into a broad grin. "'Ey, love! Hop on," he called her, waving at her.

Emma bit down her lip. There she was – for once, she wasn't hiding behind any lies or fake names, and she wished she could say her only concern was that she was a princess, and meeting up with a pirate could easily be the same as walking into a wolf's mouth.

No, that's not just it. What really made her hesitate, was a burning question that seemed wouldn't leave her alone since the previous day:

Would he find her just as interesting as he'd had before, now he knew who she truly was?

"Come on, Swan. I thought you wanted to see my ship," Killian called her again, as he watched her hesitating.

And in the end, Emma decided to place some trust in him, and more importantly place some trust in herself, and headed towards the ship.

Emma looked around the ship as soon as she set a foot on deck; it was awfully quiet, with only the sounds of the sea to be heard. She turned her face to Killian, raising her eyebrows as she noticed it was only the two of them on deck. "No crew?"

"They usually try to make most of their time on land – spending all of our loots in women and rum."

Emma nodded and took a couple of steps around, hands locked behind her back, admiring the fine details on the ship. "You have quite a lovely ship, captain," she complimented after a few moments.

"She's the Jolly Roger, love," Killian told her. "Fastest in all the realms."

"Jolly Roger, huh," Emma repeated with a nod, chuckling softly. There was something oddly familiar about the ship, something she was quick to identify, and she added: "She looks like… like a royal vessel."

"Used to be," Killian reaffirmed her suspicions, and then explained: "I was a Lieutenant back then. My brother was the Captain."

This new piece of information about the pirate had her halting, focusing her entire attention on him. She'd never put much thought in wondering about the pirate's beginnings – for some reason, she'd just pictured him having been born into the pirate life.

She tried to picture in her brain a younger version of him, wearing a naval uniform as he sailed under his brother's command, serving his kingdom; and she had to fight against the smile that threatened to break through her lips. Who would've thought, Captain Hook had once been a man of honor.

She wondered then, what could've possibly turned him into this darker version of himself.

"How'd you turn into a pirate then?" Emma inquired.

"King was a corrupt man. I went rogue, renamed the ship, and began my life as a free man," he stated simply, and Emma watched him curiously, stopping her walk next to him.

"And your brother?"

"Dead."

Emma flinched slightly at the word, regretting having made the question as soon as the answer reached her ears. "I'm sorry…"

Killian shrugged it off, giving her a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "It was a long time ago, princess."

She didn't even consider pushing him on with the subject; and sighed deeply at the way he had addressed her. Right, she was a princess now – one who owed him an explanation.

"I'm sorry I lied about who I am."

"You had me fooled, Swan," he chuckled, incredulously shaking his head. He even seemed disappointed – not at her, but more at himself. "I knew you were no ordinary lass – but a princess! Huh, I should've known..."

"And you're a pirate!" Emma exclaimed, folding her hands over her chest. "It would've been madness telling you who I was."

"Most would say you, a princess, coming here now, to meet with a dreadsome pirate, is madness," Killian raised an eyebrow at her, taking a slow step closer to her.

"You don't scare me." Because truly there wasn't a reason to be scared, now, was it?

No – she could see it in his eyes; those pale blues that seemed to glow brighter as he watched her.

She could easily have a million reasons not to trust him – mainly, the circumstances in which they'd met had proven this wasn't a man afraid to steal or harm people to get what he wanted. But she'd constantly found herself catching glimpses of the man behind that dreadsome pirate façade, and she felt it deep within her that he wouldn't dare to harm her.

He chuckled lowly. "Now, don't get too comfortable around me already, love. I do love my treasures."

Her breath hitched in her throat and her heart raced in her chest, and she wasn't sure if it's because of his low, dangerous tone or the sudden proximity of his body to hers.

She snorted. "I'm not your treasure to take, Hook."

"That makes no difference to me, Swan. I always take what I want," he leaned towards her, and she caught a glint of mischief and playfulness as their eyes meet.

Emma's lips curved slightly, and she did her best to play it cool even though having him so close to her made her incredibly nervous. "Do you really? May I remind you, I've already bested you once?"

Killian's smirk turned into a full-on smile – and she was surprised to find it made her heart skip a beat, making her feel suddenly flustered. Curse his stupid good looks.

She turned her face away from him, suddenly feeling desperate to focus on anything that wasn't him.

The sea is the next best option she could find.

He seemed to notice her sudden interest in the sea since, after a couple of moments in silence, he asked: "You ever sailed before?"

"Once," Emma answered. "I was a child, though, I can barely remember. My parents and I went to a wedding back in Arendelle."

"That's it?" Killian raised an eyebrow, looking surprised, and it made Emma chuckle softly.

"Aye, captain," she said, doing her best to imitate his accent. "Might be surprising for a free man like you, but this kingdom is where I'm meant to be."

"I don't really believe that."

"And why's that?" She rolled her eyes at him.

"You've told me so yourself. The other night in the bar - you said you always wanted to see the world," Killian answered matter-of-factly. "The princess wishes for a taste of freedom, perhaps?"

Emma's mouth opened, surprised that he'd been actually paying attention to what she - drunkenly - said back then.

"Right," she grunted, looking away from him. She wasn't too sure yet of how to feel about the fact that he seemed to already know her too well.

A brief silence followed.

"So, princess, I was hoping –"

"Emma," she interrupted him. "It's Emma."

Killian smiled, triumphant as she'd finally admitted her name to him. "Emma," he repeated it, and it sounded delicious in that thick accent of his. "I was hoping you hadn't changed your mind about that drink you asked for yesterday."

As she turned to watch him, she found there wasn't that typical cocky and flirty expression of his plastered all over his features. There was a smile on his face, a truthful one; and perhaps, if she looked a little bit deeper into his expression, there was something that resembled nervousness.

But that was silly, of course – this was Killian Jones, perhaps the most confident man she'd ever stumbled upon, and she doubted anything could ever make him nervous, much less herself.

Emma chuckled. "I haven't."

"Good," he said with a nod, and added, scratching behind his ear: "Will tomorrow do?"

Emma suppressed the smile that tried to break through, already knowing too well what her answer would be.