Chapter 6

Swords and Secrets

Emma knew it would be entertaining to teach the meek sailor to fight. He was awkward enough with his words and actions. So she had expected his clumsy footwork and inefficient movements, but she hadn't counted on him flinching and blushing every few motions.

"Swan, are you sure I need to learn this? You and the Ice Queen seem to be very powerful yourselves. You don't need me," he tried to reason for the third time since they began sparring. It's starting to sound more like a whine than a logical argument.

"Arendelle is a pirate's haven. As long as they agree to do the occasional errand for the king, and they don't steal from the palace itself, they are allowed to do as they want," Elsa explains dryly, her eyes glued to her nails and an icicle nail file. "But those who are magical are hunted and imprisoned. We need someone who doesn't have magic to help us fool the guards once we get to the prison."

Emma lunges, and Killian deflects the blow with a flick of his wrist, using the movement they were currently practicing. She strikes again, aiming lower.

Killian deflects it again, rather clumsily this time. She breaks past his defenses and pokes him in the chest with her sword, sending him tumbling to the ground. She holds the blade against his neck.

"Dead," She states plainly. " Again."

"We're doomed," Elsa moans. "He's hopeless."

Emma shoots her a look, silencing her. While Emma didn't think Killian would be good, she had no way to know he'd be this bad at even the simplest of moves. He's smart, so she expected him to be a quicker learner. Something in Emma's gut doesn't feel right. She has the same prickling sensation she feels when someone tells a lie. She puts down her weapon and studies him for a moment.

"My apologies, lass. I'm just not a formidable foe," he murmurs, getting to his feet slowly. "Perhaps finding another assistant in a nearby port for this part of the mission will be more useful?"

Elsa perks up, looking at Emma hopefully. "Please? Come on, you can keep this guy on the boat, and we'll get someone who actually knows what he's doing."

Emma shoots her another look. "I'm not trusting a stranger with my life," she snaps angrily. "At least with Jones here, I know he's honest. He just needs some more practice, and for you to stop with the negativity."

Emma hadn't been paying attention to his feet during their sparring, more concerned with how he moved his blade. This time, as she lifts her weapon, she watches his feet slide into a perfect stance almost naturally. Emma hasn't shown him how to stand.

Elsa rolls her eyes and gives an exaggerated royal wave. "Then I'm going to take a nap. Wake me up when you realize that the sailor is useless." And then she is gone.

They both let out a sigh of relief.

Emma has never gotten along well with Elsa, and her presence on the ship is only making Emma's mood worse. Plus, Emma wants to speak to the sailor without the Ice Queen's frosty commentary getting in the way.

"I thought she'd never leave," Emma snickers, putting her sword aside. She moves closer to Killian so she is just behind him. She feels him tense as she places her hand over his where he grips the sword.

His breathing hitches as she moves with him, demonstrating proper technique. Up, down, to the right, left, a twirl of the wrist. "You're too bad at this for it to be natural," Emma says.

Killian flinches.

"Because it's not natural! You're faking!" she accuses, pulling back.

He scratches nervously behind his ear, making Emma grin. She knew it!

"Why don't you want to fight? Do you have some loyalty to Arendelle that I'm not aware of?" Emma questioned. "If you know how to fight, then why did you literally cut open your hand when you helped me with the guard?" Nothing's making sense right now, at least when it comes to the sailor. "I'd assume sword fighting is a necessary skill on a ship."

Killian doesn't respond, so Emma decides to give him a lesson in self-preservation. She draws her sword and strikes with full force. Killian, eyes wide, raises his blade to block the attack. He can tell she's done sparring. That attack was aimed to kill…or at least to maim. Emma could always heal any injuries that are too bad…maybe.

"Bloody hell, Swan! What are you trying to do? "

Emma doesn't respond, swinging her sword in another offensive maneuver. He is able to block this one too. She attacks over and over, noting his increasingly proficient parries.

"Don't lie to me, Killian. Lying makes me very, very angry," she says, lashing out.

"Because I don't want to hurt anyone!" he shouts back, expertly performing the move she had been "teaching" him. "I don't want to know how to fight! I don't want any part of this!"

"Why?" she demands. "Did you lose one bad fight? Are you too cowardly to pick up the blade again? Or did you accidentally kill someone?"

Something flickers in his eyes, she just isn't sure what.

"I think someone died the last time you held a weapon. Someone you loved ," she taunts. Emma can see she's making him angry. Good! Anger is one of the most driving emotions. Anger sparks her most powerful magic.

"Were you too weak to protect someone? Or were you the killer? I prefer the latter. It would be so annoying if you got squeamish at the sight of blood."

He slashes out at her, moving offensively for the first time since their lesson began. It's a hasty and clumsy attempt, but it's the most progress she's seen so far.

"Good! Tuck in your leg a bit, stay balanced," she encourages. "Now spill."

Killian takes a moment to recover his footing. "Why should I tell you my painful past when you haven't shared much of your own?" he counters darkly.

"Oh? Aren't you quick to make deals with the Dark One?" she purrs. "Alright. Question for question. But we spar as we talk. You need the practice." He makes another aggressive movement, trying to strike her in the shoulder. She takes that as a sign of agreement.

"When was the last time you used a blade?" she asks, making him smirk.

"Used or held?" he replies with a snap, coming in close to her. "Because if it were up to me, I'd do neither."

She shivers as she sees the utter certainty in his words. "Used," she clarifies, driving him back. "And knowing how to use a weapon isn't dark, nor evil." There are definitely some skills Emma has acquired over the years that can be classified as such. Sword fighting isn't one of them.

"I tried to defend someone. Ended up making everything worse. It cost me dearly," he says sadly.

"And you blame the art of fighting for that?" Emma asks.

"I seem to recall it being my turn. Who taught you?" he asks in lieu of an answer.

Emma smiles warmly, recalling one of the few childhood memories that she cherishes.

"My father. Before he became his ruthless current self, he thought it would be wise to teach me how to ward off all my suitors," she laughs. "I think I still have the wooden sword he made for me when I was about ten." Or at least she used to. Emma winders if her mother kept her things or lit the whole room ablaze when she left.

Oh, how right he had been. Her mother tried to pressure a young Emma into an engagement that suited the Queen's fancy, and by that point, her father had lost all interest in protecting his little girl. Emma recalls using that same wooden sword to knock a wizard over the head when he tried to get too familiar with a sixteen-year-old sorceress. When she told her father, he simply shrugged.

"Now, why blame the skill for your tragedy? I'm sure there are people more deserving of the blame," she snorts.

"I do blame others for it. I blame my brother for leaving me, and I blame that bloody island for disappearing from existence," he growls. "I blame Liam for teaching me that I was strong, that I was invincible. I lost someone I loved because of him. I blame myself for ever daring to pick up a weapon." He lowers his blade in defeat.

Not the reaction Emma was going for.

"This was a mistake, Swan," he mutters, unable to stop the trembling of his arm from shaking his sword. "I'm bad luck. I ruin everything I touch. You may think me a coward, but I've seen enough pain and misery started by me to know it's true. Isn't it better for me to be the only one who suffers? Why drag everyone around me down too?"

It is a question designed for her, a question from one toxic individual to another, a question only people like her can even comprehend.

Emma doesn't know what drives her in that moment, what brings her to put down her weapon and grip his arm with her own. Perhaps it's the sudden outburst of pain that tugs on the cracks in her own soul. Perhaps it's because she is surprised to hear that anyone could truly understand her.

"Killian," she says softly. "You're wrong. You came to my tower to rescue me. You saved my life. I'm not one for thank yous, but I'll give you one now." She closes the distance between them. "So thank you. You were brave. You saved me not once, but twice."

He doesn't react, and she keeps talking. "As for why bothering to try? You can't let the world just beat you down like this! You can't let them win!"

He looks up, confused. "Them?"

"The people who insist that we are nothing, that we are better locked up and thrown away. Because you and I, Killian…we're a lot alike," she admits. "You may call it toxic, but I…I call it being resilient, taking what the world's given us and having to fight to get by." She looks up, picturing a dark-haired man who once said similar words to her. "Not a lot of people can handle us, you know? They have to find some way to understand, so they blame. Don't give in, ok? Don't give up the fight just to make them happy."

Killian still looks unsure, his eyes clouded by doubt. But Emma sees something else as well, something she saw before when he was at the helm, navigating by the sky, adjusting the sails, feeling the wind. Emma sees fire in his eyes.

"Am I right to assume that your brother taught you to use a weapon?"

He nods.

"Well either he didn't finish, or you're rusty, Sailor. Your form is clumsy, and you have the balance of a sponge."

He grimaces, but looks amused by her word choice.

"I think you owe it to both him and yourself to never find yourself in need of saving. If you're always the one doing the saving, you will be a true survivor," she continues. "If you're going to survive on a pirate ship with a couple of sorceresses, then you're going to need to man up and let a little of the pirate in you out to play, kay?"

He thinks for a moment, then nods, lifting his sword as a wild grin appears on his face. "Aye. What next, Swan?"

And then she lunges.

They spar for hours, and Emma has to admit, once he set his mind to the task, he made remarkable progress. She will turn him into a swordsman yet!

He wants to keep going, but Emma knows he's reached his limit when he slips on a board and falls on his face, nearly knocking himself out cold. He tries to insist that he's fine, but Emma isn't having it.

"I am not going to go to all this hard work just to have you exhausted when we get to the real battle!" She is lucky that her magic keeps her body from tiring the same way a regular mortal's would.

"That is good thinking, Emms," Elsa purrs, as Emma closes the door to the Captain's room. She figured it was the most appropriate.

Emma shoots the Ice Queen a questioning look. Making a quick decision not to risk trusting her, Emma flicks her wrist, enchanting the lock on his door. Just to be safe. The last thing Emma needs right now a mutiny.

"Smart to pretend you actually care about his pain." Elsa puts her arm around Emma's shoulders. "You even had me going for a bit, what with the stuff about your dear old dad and about honoring his sainted older brother," she laughs coldly.

Emma shrugs off Elsa's touch with a glare, daring her to try to touch her again. They aren't friends, nor the sisters they once considered themselves. "I'd have believed you if you had bothered to tell the sailor that he is probably going to die." Elsa reminds her. "Once they realize we're gone, they're going to hang him, or maybe behead him. I haven't beheaded anyone in a while..." She says trailing off.

"Elsa. Shut up." She snaps. She doesn't want to think about that.

"If you truly cared, you would have told him he's just another pawn in your game, a pawn to be sacked at the next possible moment."

Emma growls at the frosty royal, warning her away. When she doesn't get the message, Emma turns her back on her and leaves, but she can't leave behind the echoes of Elsa's laughter.

She isn't upset because Elsa called her out on her plans.

No, Emma would much prefer that to the truth. Because in truth, she hadn't meant to tell him about her treasured wooden sword. She hadn't planned on wanting to help him move on from the loss of his brother. She didn't want to face the fact that she would get this man killed.

Her own brother had died just moments after birth, when their mother realized he was a boy, and boys don't have magic, and her mother had –

Emma cuts off the memory.

He would be three now.

No. She doesn't want to hear the truth.

She's happier pretending that the Dark Swan has no heart for the sailor to touch, no heart for the sailor to win.

Sorry for the delay, November is going to be a crazy month for me. I have some things to tweak for this story so I'm going to try and spread out the updates so it won't be so many so close together than a long gap during a cliffhanger. That's no fun.

8/26/17: Beta read by notoriouscs

~Luna