The docks were a hard place to work and an even harder place to live. Emma Swan knew this from first-hand experience but hoped one day to escape the swirling cess pit that was her home. Kidnappers and murderers were a constant worry, lurking in the taverns, huddled in dark alleyways, waiting in the darkness. Payday was an especially fruitful time. Sailors took their earnings to the pubs, to the brothels and drank away their troubles, drowning their cares in prostitutes. And at the end of the night stumbled back to their bunks, only to be waylaid in the shadows, robbed and beaten and sometimes stabbed. Daylight always found some poor sod bleeding out in the dirt, penniless and broken, sometimes breathing, sometimes not.
Emma usually preferred to pickpocket marks when she could. While she'd grown up tough and was handy with a knife, she wasn't foolish enough to try her luck tackling men outright for their money purse, to overwhelm them with brute strength even if they were drunk. The risk wasn't worth the reward, especially if it got her killed. Sitting in a doorway she watched a group of sailors walk past, most likely on their way to the nearest tavern, their weathered faces gruff and uninviting. Her best bet was to wait until they left the building. Drink would dull their senses, allowing her nimble fingers to unburden them of their coins without notice. She made sure to keep her face low, her hair tucked under her headscarf, face scrubbed with dirt. More than once she'd been mistaken for a prostitute, arms encircling her and promises sloppily whispered in her ear as she tried to extricate herself. On occasion it had served as cover in brothels but it was dangerous, only to be used in times of desperation.
She would have been better off if there had been a chance of sneaking into that fancy ball up at the castle. But Emma had neither the clothes nor the bearing to pull off such a feat. She could dream though and often did of dancing in a fancy dress, noblemen falling at her feet as she stole the rings off their fingers. Such dreams usually left her waking in the middle of the night, heart beating out a fast thump-thump in the hovel she called a home.
There was little else to do before the sun set and she had no intention of kicking through the scrap heap down by the water. On occasion it yielded coins and half eaten food but it was the mark of desperate people. So instead she waited, biding her time, bearing down on her hunger. Night would come soon enough and with it, the promise of a meal.
Standing on the deck of "The Jewel of the Realm" was a young Lieutenant, hands clasped behind his back as the crew carried out their duties below him. As part of a diplomatic mission to the kingdom of King James they had been tasked with escorting a royal vessel to begin talks of an alliance. There were rumours that this arrangement would possibly come in the form of a marriage but when Killian had stepped off the ship most of the townsfolk seemed to doubt the validity of that rumour. King James had rejected all proposals sent forth by the royal families in the surrounding kingdoms. Many were upset that he seemed determined to remain a bachelor, upsetting the 'peace of the realms' as they called it by refusing to wed and bed one of the many eligible daughters available to him. In the taverns it had been worse. One man had muttered into his cups that he heard the king "doesna even like princesses. Prefers his own footmen to those fine ladies."
The diplomatic visit had set everyone on edge and he'd had to break up more than one brawl between his men and the locals. And more than once he'd caught bands of young boys trying to sneak on to the ship. Of course his brother didn't have to worry about any of these concerns. He had boasted with glee of all he was going to be privy to and Killian had simmered with jealousy. As Captain of the escort vessel Liam had been invited to wine and dine with the king and his court. He'd had tours of the castle, spent evenings dancing with duchesses and even ridden on an excursion around town and through the surrounding countryside. Killian had smirked at that. Liam hated horses but couldn't very well refuse when everyone had to be on their best behaviour. That had been the one solace Killian had taken as he'd been relegated to looking after the ship and her crew, instead of enjoying the finer things this kingdom had to offer.
He didn't take the same pleasure in this voyage as the crew did however. Usually tasked with patrolling the border or chasing after pirates and smugglers, the crew followed the same routine, easily monotonous and unexciting. This however, was the rare chance to journey to a foreign land. Upon arriving, they had practically raced off the ship looking for the nearest tavern or whorehouse but Killian had been more circumspect. There was far too much at stake. If the talks soured, the locals might turn on them. Everywhere he looked eyes seemed to glare and he could have sworn one man had spat in his direction. He wasn't sure why the populace seemed so set against them but he had never visited this kingdom before. He'd heard that King James' father George had been a hard man but he had died long ago. His only thought was perhaps the townsfolk were afraid. A King without an heir brought instability and as far as he understood it, the king had yet to name a successor.
In fact the entire mission so far had been nothing but a headache for him. He stared down at the deck as a group of sailors scrubbed the wooden planks down with sand and water. Liam was once again dining up at the castle, leaving him in charge. But only until tonight. Being First Lieutenant did have its benefits, one being that the other Lieutenants were under his jurisdiction. And he had no intention of spending another night watching over the ship. Not when they could be leaving any day to go back to border patrol and he'd yet to properly enjoy the town.
"Lieutenant Graff!"
The young man turned, his clean-shaven face young enough to belong to a boy.
"Yes sir?"
"At six bells you will have command of the ship."
"Aye sir." Concern flickered on his face but he made no comment and returned to supervising the men under his command. Killian smiled. It was so much easier when they acquiesced without question. Exactly how a proper ship of his majesty's navy should run.
Descending below decks, his step had an extra bounce to it. He opened the door to his tiny cabin and flopped down on the hard cot. If Liam could have his fun in this port, then he could at least allow his younger brother the same. And Killian would take it now when all was calm. He would allow himself to indulge, just this once. He had no doubt he was leaving the ship in good hands as he rummaged through his trunk. Graff was young but a straightforward man. It would be just a hearty meal at a tavern, taking in the local fare and then he would return.
"Aha." He pulled out his second best hat and set to dressing for his night out.
Upon departing the ship he set off to the nearest establishment, a respectable amount of king's gold in his pocket. He was determined to partake in a good meal as opposed to ship's food. It worked in a pinch but there was only so much he could take of salted beef before he grew intolerant.
There were still plenty of townsfolk walking about, finishing their daily routines as the sun traveled the down the eaves of houses towards the ground. More than once he had to dance out of the way of a cart trundling towards him, scuffing up his boots on the hard-packed earth. He glanced in the direction of the castle, noting how much taller the spires looked here than on the ship. He silently wished his brother well as he ducked into The King's Rest, removing his hat and tucking it under his arm as he bowed his head to enter. Slotting himself into the closest empty spot near the kitchens, he pulled aside one of the young boys working to ask for a plate of meat and potatoes.
Waiting was almost impossible though. The smells of food circulating around the room were intoxicating as he tapped a rhythm out on the hard wood with his thumb. Every so often a plate would be carried past him, destined for another patron. His mouth watered at a haunch of roast pig handed off to his table neighbour, a stout man with a large boil on his nose. He tucked into his dinner with gusto as Killian looked over the rest of the patrons, trying to distract himself. A large group near the back of the tavern was supplying most of the noise, guffawing every so often, clinking mugs and toasting one another more loudly than necessary. A pair of what looked to be brothers were huddled over something on their table in the corner. And there appeared to be an illicit dice game going on near the door. Killian frowned at this. He knew for a fact that gambling of any kind was forbidden in this kingdom thanks to several of his men being fined by King James' soldiers after be caught participating in such activities.
But finally, finally his meal arrived and he couldn't restrain himself from digging into the plate, a large cut of roast steaming and bloody just the way he liked it. As the night progressed he got to know his table mates, even the man with the boil on his nose. They talked for hours and Killian found himself enjoying the company. They may not be fellow countrymen but they were amiable enough and he had little cause just to talk with someone aboard ship other than Liam. And even then it was mostly related to their responsibilities in some way or other. They shared stories of their kingdoms and he told them of how he'd personally boarded pirate ships when they asked for an exciting naval tale. He did his best to steer clear of any talk of the diplomatic mission he was on but as the men got further into their cups the mood began to sour. Some muttered under their breath that they feared open war from some of the greedier barons in the surrounding country if the king did not either marry or name a successor. There were constant worries about assassins when he went out hunting and fears of poisoning when he hosted a ball, such as he was now.
"It's enough to drive a man mad."
Determined to steer the conversation into friendlier waters Killian offered up one of the stories Liam had told him as a child. "Have any of you ever heard the story of Red-Handed Jill?" They all leaned in, eager to hear of a woman pirate.
Some time later Killian had bid his new friends goodbye. Exiting The King's Rest he leaned against the building for a moment. He'd been careful about how much mead he'd drunk but the tavern had been hot and the cool night air was a bracing change. He lifted his head, sucking in mouthfuls of the crisp autumn night as he stared up at the stars. Little sparkling lights hung high in the sky. As he looked over to the moon he heard voices, loud ones coming from further up the street. In the dim light he couldn't see anything properly. But when he heard a woman's voice crying out in distress he stepped closer, cursing himself for not bringing his sword with him.
It had been a perfect plan. Emma had squatted outside The Ugly Dove in the cold, waiting for the more inebriated men to finally stumble their way home, whereupon she could relieve them of their money with none the wiser. Luckily for her this time it was a large group, more opportunity for a large haul. She slipped in behind them, crouching, knife at the ready, her hand reaching up to grab the money purse when the man turned and looking down at her, grabbing her wrist. A cruel twist of fate.
"What're you doing down there?"
She pulled the knife behind her back, hoping she could pass this off as something else.
"I thought I saw a coin on the ground." She kept her eyes downcast, hoping they were drunk enough to leave off.
"No you didn't" He shook her arm, as if expecting it to prompt her to talk. When she stayed silent and tried to pull away his grip tightened, fingers digging into the skin. The other men in the group had taken notice and were now moving to surround her.
"Let go." She'll use the knife if she has to, her hand still held behind her leg. But as a last resort only. Blood and wounds led to questions, led to guards and dungeons. She had no intention of being forced to leave town simply because one man hadn't been drunk enough.
"Not until you say. Not until you tell what, on the ground you were doing." He spluttered, yanking her towards him.
"I said let go!" As much as she might like to think she was tough there was no way she would be able to take on four men, despite how much they'd had to drink.
"Is everything alright here?" She looked over to see a tall man approaching, his outline barely visible in the half light from the tavern lantern.
"Not your concern." One of the drunk men stepped in front of Killian, tried to push him away. The Lieutenant raised an eye at the feeble attempt.
"I believe it is. This lady has asked you to leave her be. I think it best if you comply with her wishes."
He nodded in Emma's direction but before any of the men responded, one lazily swung at him. He easily sidestepped the punch but couldn't avoid the fist that connected with his stomach moments later. He gasped, trying to draw breath as he blocked another punch while one of the men grabbed hold of his arm. He clocked one in the face while Emma took her opportunity to try and shake loose the man who had hold of her. Though he was distracted by the fight he wouldn't let go so Emma reversed the hold on her knife and brought the handle down on his nose. She heard a crunch as he yelled and fell to the ground, blood flowing from his nostrils. Enraged he grabbed at her leg and pulled, knocking her off balance to the ground, her head smacking the packed earth with a decidedly loud crack, her knife skittering out of her hand. The world blurred for a moment, a white hot pain blasted over her skull.
Killian had knocked a man the ground. Another was trying to hold his hands behind his back as one pummeled his face. He leveraged his leg up to kick the man in the groin, trying to ignore the ache that was his face. Instantly the grip on his arms lessened and then disappeared. When he turned he saw the last man standing edge away from them, perhaps valuing his health over his aggression. Killian gingerly touched his face, fingers coming away with blood. Liam's going to kill me. He looked over the young woman he'd saved lying on the ground holding her head.
"Miss?" He looked her over for a moment, wondering if she'd been injured in the scuffle but she appeared unhurt. He took in her delicate features and soft mouth. Wisps of blonde hair peeked out from a scarf tied around her head. She opened her eyes to find the stranger looking down at her.
Emma stared in confusion. Why did he interfere? Her gaze flickered over his uniform as she tried and failed to recognize what part of the kingdom he was from. He held out his hand for her to take but she ignored the gesture. There was no knowing what he expected of her and she didn't intend to put herself further into his debt. She stood unassisted, keenly feeling all the sore place that would be bruises by morning. But as he seemed the kind to concern himself with other people's affairs, she resisted placing hands over where she hurt.
"Are you alright?" He stepped closer, the pub lantern revealing sharp blue eyes. There was a cut above his brow bleeding rather badly. A split lip and black eye rounded out the look. In any other circumstance he would probably have looked rather dashing but here he looked like he'd fallen down a set of stairs and gotten beat up by a brass door. He looked naval to be sure, but the clothing was all wrong for officers of King James for that was what he was. An officer. She could tell by the gold buttons and the fine hat he had been sporting before it had been knocked off.
"I'm fine."
As he bent to retrieve his hat, she turned to step over the nearest groaning body and be on her way when his hand caught her elbow. She discovered he had quite a firm grip on her when she tried to pull away.
"Let. go."
As she would not turn to face him he kept hold of her, softly murmuring, his voice filled with a lilt unfamiliar to this kingdom.
"You've just been attacked by these ruffians. I'm not releasing you until I know you're alright and even then I'm not about to let you walk off by yourself."
"That's, unnecessary." Her mind raced as she thought how best to rid herself of him. With him tagging along she had no chance of taking any more purses tonight and she needed to eat.
"I insist."
Emma rolled her eyes. Men had made her promises before. It never ended well. He would prove to be no different.
"I'm fine." She knelt to retrieve her knife, trying to hide a grimace as her head was starting to pound in time with her heartbeat. She brushed off the blade and sheathed it, placing it back in her boot. Close enough to grab if this stranger proved to be a problem.
"You took quite a tumble. Are you sure you're alright?" She could hear the concern in his voice. He even looked worried, mouth set in a frown, though that could easily be from his mangled face.
"What ship are you from?" She turned towards him, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
Killian hesitated. She might not recognize the name but he'd rather not advertise why he was in town. It had so far only caused frustration and anxiety.
"The first one off the Harbour Master's dock." Emma started towards the shore. Maybe she could lose him there. Walk him to his ship and wave goodbye.
"Yes but what's her name?"
As he followed behind, arm still on her elbow, she heard the distinct clink of money. The side of her mouth twitched. Perhaps I can eat tonight after all.
"Jewel of the Realm." He murmured, resisting the urge to pry. She apparently had no interest in discussing what had happened. She also didn't seem interested in thanking him for intervening. He could feel his eye swelling shut with every step. As they descended towards the docks he took in the gentle sway of her hips, the lean cut of her body, too lean perhaps. And her clothes were not exactly what he expected from a citizen living in the capital. Patched and torn, they were more rags than anything. As she hopped up to a crooked door he couldn't help but wonder what she had been doing with those men. Was she from one of the brothels? Had they been arguing over payment?
"Thank you for the escort. And for…helping me." She pulled away from his grasp and he had no choice but to dock his hat and turn to go. What a strange way to end the night. Not that he could ever tell Liam about it. No, he was expected to remain on the ship at all times. But he couldn't help feeling sorry for the woman. Her circumstances appeared bleak and her drawn face, though pretty, spoke of hunger. And he knew nothing about her. Perhaps he could help under the guise of wishing to know her name for a few coins. But he had no chance to turn around.
Emma waited for him to turn his back before she whipped out her knife and brought the handle against the back of his head as hard as she could. He crumpled to the ground instantly, knocking his hat off, limbs all akimbo.
Since he'd ruined her last attempt at stealing enough coin for dinner she thought he owed her. So she dug through his pockets until her hand curled around a pouch. A goodly sum by the weight of it. Tucking it away in her shirt she smiled. The day had ended well after all.
"Thank you good sir." She mock bowed to the still form in front of her and without thinking, stepped forward and placed a soft kiss on his cheek, smoothing his unruly dark hair back from his forehead before turning and walking into the dark.