Wow. Ok, so I know it's been weeks sinceI updated, and I am truly sorry. I was away for a week, and then proceeded to get sick, followed by everyone else in the family getting sick. (We're all ok now!). Anyways, without further ado, here's the next part! Thanks so much for all your support and patience!

XXV.

The late afternoon sun glittered on the water as her ship rounded a final turn, bringing her destination into view. She had thought of it as a prison, so when King John's startlingly beautiful castle finally appeared, she could scarcely believe that the elegant palace perched on a cliff was the home she'd been dreading. Far from the dark twisted fortress of her nightmares, its walls sparkled like a pearl above the clear azure sea.

Once docked, she was escorted to a royal carriage for travel to the castle. The harbor was filled with dozens of tall ships, from gigantic Man o Wars to maneuverable clippers, all of which she knew to be but a fraction of the king's navy. As the horses drew her into the city proper, it became startlingly clear that two decades of war had taken their toll on the coastal nation. Constantly looking to expand his influence, John had apparently bled the common people dry to outfit his military, and it showed with just a glance at her surroundings.

The fountain in the main square was dry, and the children who played in it went quiet as the carriage pulled near. The outdoor market sold staples such as bread and fish, but lacked any more extravagant goods that indicated people had spending money for the finer things. Much like the fountain, the rough brick buildings and cobbled streets suffered from obvious neglect. She could only begin to imagine the living conditions, and Emma knew that her first acts as queen would be to reduce the suffering of the common people. Just one of her jeweled necklaces could feed the better part of a neighborhood for a year, and her parents had always made sure their people were cared for before indulging in frivolous things. John may not have the same set of values, but that didn't mean she couldn't find ways to help. The people of both Sylvania and Leinster were counting on her, and she would not let them down.

The neighborhoods seemed wealthier the higher up the hill they went, eventually turning into opulent manor houses that dotted the open countryside as they approached the castle's fortified walls. The carriage finally stopped at a grand entryway, where she was met by a veritable army of attendants who made no secret of their fascination with her. A tall, elegant man stepped forward in a low bow as she scanned the group for the king. "Welcome, my lady! I am Matthew, head of his majesty's household."

Curtseying, she smiled graciously. "A pleasure to meet you, Matthew. I am Emma, princess of Sylvania and queen to your King John. May I ask, where is my husband? I confess, I had hoped to meet him when I arrived."

He seemed slightly confused by her question. "Ah, well, his majesty has been delayed while at sea, but fear not. I shall be happy to give you a tour of the castle in his stead."

They explored the gardens, bright with carefully groomed blooms of every shape and color, before going inside to the grand halls. The palace had a strange sort of pristine, perfect beauty, but it felt cold in a way as well. She realized that her earlier thoughts of its charm were misplaced. The opulent hall of mirrors, the ornate portraits and intricately carved furniture made John's palace striking and elegant, but it was little more than a gilded cage after all.

Although she rationally knew she was in her new home, Emma felt as though she were in a dream. She tried to imagine her life in this place, being treated as just one more beautiful thing that John had collected from his many conquered lands. Her only hope was that they would find a way to coexist, and that she could find ways to quietly improve the kingdom and make her parents proud.

Further exploration of the castle finally brought her to her private quarters, where Matthew again bowed before leaving her. "The king will attend you shortly," he promised smoothly, "but in the meantime please make yourself at home."

She settled into the bridal suite, a series of opulently furnished rooms that would apparently double as her permanent chambers. Walking through the cream and gold sitting room, she advanced into the bedroom, where dark wood and luxurious burgundy fabric gave it a seductive quality. The huge, canopied oak bed dominated the room and was outfitted with rich white drapes and bedclothes that contrasted with the room but were fitting for a wedding night. Realizing that she would be consummating her marriage in that very bed, she swallowed thickly, suddenly hoping that John would be, if not a loving husband, not a particularly cruel one either.

Shortly, as it turned out, was apparently a relative term. She was helped into, and then out of her bridal trousseau by an attendant several hours later, when Matthew notified her that the King was still away on important naval business and would see her as soon as he was able. As days passed without so much as a word as to where he was or when he'd be returning, the staff and courtiers were outwardly cordial, but there seemed to be an unsettling sense of amusement at her presence, and Emma was often alone and lonely in this new place. After her one public duty, which generally consisted of politely greeting the visiting nobles who came to see their king's new bride with a sort of morbid fascination, she was relegated to her throne to dine in the gathering hall alone beside her husband's empty seat before returning nightly to an empty room.


Hook knew these waters all too well. He had pulled the Jolly into this port countless times in his youth, when she had born the name The Jewel of the Realm and sailed under the banner of King John. Every rocky cove, tiny island and sandbar was etched into his memory, and it took mere moments for him to decide where best to moor the ship before changing course and pulling her into a small lagoon.

"Two days, Smee. Put her out to sea, follow the plan, and collect me in two days." He swung over the rail and dropped into the small boat, allowing the crew to lower him before rowing ashore.

A lesser captain might seem foolish, leaving his ship in the hands of a pirate crew, but Hook had no such fears. If they hadn't abandoned him during his months of depressed debauchery, they wouldn't risk a mutiny now. After all, Billy, Mullins and even cranky old Ed seemed almost as eager to have Emma back as he was.

Stowing the dinghy, he carefully picked his way through the wooded area outside the castle, using the cover of darkness to slip ever closer as he pondered the best way inside.

The main entrance would be well-guarded and difficult to sneak into, and without knowing the correct room, scaling the walls and creeping into her window would be nearly impossible. Though he was confident in his swordsmanship, fighting his way in was clearly not an option.

A dry cough nearby alerted him to the presence of someone, and he quietly circled around to find a half-drunk knight pissing by the roadside. Though the last ten years had clearly taken their toll, the knight's coat of arms made it easy for Killian to realize that the rather unimpressive man with his helmet off was Sir Geoffrey, a wealthy buffoon who he remembered with disdain from many years ago. At least this death would be no great tragedy, he thought, a plan forming in his mind.

He quickly dispatched the knight with a well-placed slice of his hook to the throat, carefully tipping the body forward to avoid excessive bleeding on the man's garments. Donning the full suit of armor and mounting the knight's horse, he was pleased to discover that he now had the perfect way to conceal his identity. He chuckled to himself as he was automatically granted entrance through the castle gates in his disguise, free to enter the halls and search for his princess. He obviously didn't need a ship to be a pirate.

He blended into the everyday bustle, anonymity allowing him to wander freely. He ducked into the library, the various sitting rooms and the grand salon before ascending the steps towards the bedchambers. After a few long minutes of searching, he stumbled upon a pretty young chambermaid, and felt his luck changing.

"Hello, my beauty," he purred, crowding the girl slightly as he stripped off his helmet, ready to use all of his seductive charm. "I have a confession to make."

The girls chocolate lashes batted flirtatiously at his attention. "And what might that be, sir knight?"

"I've always wanted to get an intimate look at a royal bedchamber. You wouldn't happen to be able to help me with that, would you?"

She giggled, cheeks flushing and head shaking nervously, but Hook knew women all too well and he could that tell her protests were merely for show. It took little effort to charm both the princess' current location and sleeping quarters out of the girl by promising a romp in the royal bed. He planned on fucking someone on that bed, he mused, but it wouldn't be the nervous lass blushing at his attentions. With a devilish wink, he plopped his helm back on and strode towards the grand hall.


The hall spread out in front of Emma like a stage, and she watched the various players from her raised seat as she dined. The young ladies of the court congregated on one side of the room, chattering excitedly and glancing at the knights and squires seated at the opposite tables. Occasionally, a man would approach one of the women or a few of the knights would stand off to the side to converse before things returned to normal.

The ballet was somewhat entertaining, if repetitive, and sitting alone on her throne, Emma watched the courtiers with a mixture of amusement and pity. Most of them were quite well-born, with all of the privileges and expectations that came with such a birthright. The flirting was mostly for show, she knew, for while some of them may be able to find a match that satisfied both love and duty, most of their dalliances would end in little more than a few stolen kisses. Her parents had been the exception, marrying for love alone, and had nearly payed a steep price for their decision. It was a price young nobles, herself included, knew all too well, and most eventually acquiesced to a suitable betrothal with little fanfare.

Then again, she had known love, which is more than she could say for a lot of women in arranged marriages. He had been a pirate instead of a prince, but he had been hers, if only for a few weeks, and the memory of their time together would soothe her soul in the years to come. Her hand may belong to King John of Leinster, but her heart would always beat for Killian Jones.

Of course, she knew little about her husband,save what she had heard from her parents and the Leinster court. The nobles showed no outward sign of displeasure with their sovereign, though their flattery spoke more of their fear than their approval. Even so, she had begun to make inquiries into public works programs that she hoped could benefit the people and perhaps improve the mood at court as well.

She wished she could ask her mother what else might be the wisest course of action, but she thought it best to wait until after the wedding to write. Once their kingdoms were allied, she could more easily obtain whatever advice or assistance she needed. She only hoped that John would take kindly to her efforts.


After three months, he thought he was ready to see her again, but nothing could have prepared him for the vision he saw before him when he entered the banquet hall. Dressed in a flowing, white silk gown that showed off a surprising amount of her glorious bosom and dripping in diamonds from the crown on her head to the bejeweled slippers on her feet, Emma looked every bit the beautiful princess bride. His heart nearly stopped as he stared at her, wanting nothing more than to climb the dais and have her right on her royal husband's gilded throne; a husband, he noticed, who was conspicuously missing from the festivities.

"Quite the beauty, isn't she?" He heard a young, round-faced squire remark. "Whether the rumors are true or not, she'll certainly make for an attractive sight beside the king"

"Rumors?" He inquired carefully, lowering his voice to ensure he'd avoid detection. "What do they say about her?"

The squire looked around, cautiously checking to make sure he could repeat the obviously tantalizing gossip without fear of chastisement. "I assumed you had already heard, Sir Geoffrey. The Sylvan princess was kidnapped by that pirate swine, Hook, while at sea. They say he had her in all manner of ways and worse yet, they say she enjoyed it!"

Damn right she enjoyed it, he thought proudly, briefly recalling how she cried out as she came undone for him before turning his attention back to the conversation at hand. "Then, dare I ask, why did our royal highness marry the girl? She's gorgeous, certainly, but surely he could have any woman he desired in his bed."

"Oh, I'm sure her beauty had something to do with it, but would venture that it had less to do with her and more to do with securing relations with her kingdom... And perhaps settling an old score."

"An old score?"

"You don't know? Hook's a bloody traitor, took his ship from John's own fleet when he went pirate! So John's going to take his woman, if you know what I mean."

Not if I have anything to say about it, he mused. Emma belonged to him, and it was time that he made that perfectly clear. Nodding to the squire, he moved into the shadows to watch his princess, knowing that she'd be in his arms again within a few short hours.


Emma finally slipped out of the bustling hall, padding lightly towards the bridal suite. Another night of waiting for her royal husband, only to learn that he'd been again delayed by some sort of nautical trouble. A large, very un-princess-like part of her hoped his ship would sink to the bottom of the ocean.

Approaching her rooms, she nodded cordially to the guards posted there, their polished steel armor glinting eerily in the firelight as it obscured their faces. She hated being watched like a prisoner, and the presence of armored sentries around every corner was suffocating. She slipped inside the heavy door, locking it behind her before trudging to the washroom. There was a half-full bottle of rum hidden in the linen closet, and tonight it was practically calling her name.

After all, here she was: a newlywed, and still alone in this foreign place. She didn't want to know if she should cry or rejoice.


Hook casually moved through the castle, letting the dome of polished metal hide his face and grant him the freedom to approach Emma's chambers. As he prepared to turn the corner, he heard the muffled voices of a guard stationed by her door. He risked a quick glance at the men, who seemed engrossed in their conversation.

"Ha! Maybe they should just use the grand hall! Put the bed right in the middle and charge admission. I know I'm hoping to be on duty that night."

Their suppressed laughter echoed quietly down the otherwise empty corridor. Ducking into the alcove behind an ornate tapestry, Hook froze, listening to the two men stationed outside the bridal suite.

"With your luck, all you'd see is the king's royal arse. Now me, I'm hoping to get a look at those pretty tits o' hers, or that little pink cunny. I wonder if the hair down there matches the hair on her head."

"Probably. You know how obsessed pirates are with gold." The taller one, with the deeper voice, laughed again. "Gods, it's hard to believe that she let scum like that fuck her. Have you even heard the stories?"

"Some of 'em. I heard he used to have her suck his cock while he was steering his ship, right there in the open, and that it got her so wet that she'd get off every time he filled her belly."

The other guard groaned. "Fuck. I could go for a princess's lips around my cock right now. You think she'd oblige me if I asked nicely?"

Hook's cock twitched at the thought of Emma's mouth on him, sucking while he manned the helm. Fuck, he was hard, and so close to finally making his dirty thoughts of her a reality again.

"Your cock? Please. Like she'd want that tiny thing. Still, you can fuck her mouth if you want. It's that royal cunt that I'm interested in."

"Yeah, she may be a princess, but I'd bet you anything that she loves getting fucked, and moans like a little whore."

Hook had had enough, anger and lust coursing through his veins like fire. He had killed men for less, and these two had dug their own graves the moment they dared insult his princess. He stepped back into the torchlight, drawing his sword.

"Gentlemen, and I use that term loosely," he announced. "I am here to relieve you of your post. Any last words?"

They raised their swords, the larger one charging him immediately, not expecting his opponent to be nearly as fast or strong. Hook dodged as his cutlass caught the knight in the exposed area under his arm, slicing through the mail and quilted gambeson to the soft flesh underneath. A muffled shriek sounded as the man crashed into the wall, clutching at the wound.

"Who are you?" The shorter guard asked, fear and confusion in his voice. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm the man who'll be taking my princess, and unfortunately for you, I can't have any witnesses." He brought his blade down on the injured knight, piercing the area between neck and shoulder and plunging the hall into silence again.

"So, you're the pirate," the remaining guard chuckled, raising his own sword. "Is her cunt really that sweet? Maybe after I'm done with you, I'll go in and find out for myself."

Gods, he wanted to kill the bastard, but Hook knew when he was being baited, instead feinting a lunge and striking when the guard miscalculated, slicing at the backs of his knees before thrusting his sword into the visor of the helm. A sickening gurgle sounded from the steel's depths, and then all was quiet again. He dragged the bodies to the alcove and, stealing a set of keys, returned to the now-unguarded door.


Returning to her bedchamber, Emma froze when she noticed the broad figure standing in its center. The helm hid his face from view, but even without seeing his eyes, she could feel his hungry stare practically peeling the silk gown from her body. Fear shot through her as she took in the unmistakable crimson of fresh blood spattering the plate armor he wore.

"What is the meaning of this?" She snapped. "Get out this instant and I may not decide to tell my husband, your king, that you were gawking at his wife."

A deep chuckle sounded from the shadowed depths of the mirrored steel. "Oh, that bastard is no king of mine, and I plan on doing far more than looking, darling." He reached up and removed the helmet, revealing disheveled dark hair and familiar blue eyes that sparkled with intensity.

"Hook," she whispered, prompting a cocky smirk from his lips as he responded.

"Did you miss me?"