As always, thank you for your patience with this fic, each chapter takes so much out of me and this one was probably the hardest yet. We delve into some dark depths here and there is definitely adult themes that some readers may feel slightly uncomfortable with. I've tried not to be too detailed in some areas but there is a bit of violence and bloodshed in this chapter.

We're going to see the darker sides of Killian and Emma and a little bit more of Emma's past.

Watching Emma command her ship with unquestioned authority had become one of Killian's favourite pastimes; it was clear from the moment they lifted anchor in Aaralyn that she was in control of her ship and respected by her crew but as they journeyed on he could have sworn that the waves themselves revered her and bent to her will. He was in awe of her knowledge of the stars and how effortlessly she read them to mark their courses; she seemed acutely aware of the change in winds and harboured an uncanny ability to foresee changes in weather. These were skills he'd too studied during his time in the Royal Navy and while he considered himself adequate in such areas he was far from her effortless fluency in all things nautical; it was as if she and the sea had a built up dialogue over the years and had now formed a relationship and mutual respect. Time and time again since the day she'd appeared in his castle cell she'd proven herself capable and yet each unexpected trait he discovered surprised him. As she stood with the unmistakable presence of a leader and commander it was hard for him to recognise the Queen he brought with him across the realm after their marriage, the stately woman who gave every impression of good breeding and quiet dignity, along with intelligence and clever wit. The Pirate Princess was a bloody marvel, he'd said it back then in those first few weeks getting to know her and he was sure it'd only be a matter of time before the sentiment left his lips again.

She often wondered what her husband was thinking in those moments she caught him watching her captain her ship, often forgetting the novelty a female pirate captain was, and all but forgetting those few years she spent where her only role was Queen of Aaralyn. It seemed a lifetime ago despite being so recent. Slipping back into the pirate life was an effortless transition, a part she played well. Being Queen, while a completely foreign concept at the time, came easily enough also. However balancing both would be more complicated, it was fine now when there was scarcely a kingdom to rule, turning to the sea was their only choice, but how would she balance both sides of herself once all this was over, not to mention the added role of wife. Yes, she and Killian were married before for all intents and purposes but now they were married and in love and this new development, while wonderful, held its own fears and insecurities. She wondered if she would settle comfortably into all these hats she juggled before wearing another, one she could never have anticipated – daughter. It was a role most are born into, not knowing any different while they grow up, often unfazed, by everything that comes with it. The idea that she would be beginning her role of daughter at 22 years old was difficult to get her head around.

She stared out at the horizon trying to imagine what her parents looked like, what their voices might sound like, and what they would think of her. She shuddered imagining them hearing of her past, all the mistakes she'd made, sins she'd committed, she didn't know exactly what future they had hoped for their princess but it was unlikely it involved a life of skulduggery and nefarious ways. Her biggest fear wasn't that she wouldn't be able to break the curse that held them captive, though that did haunt her, her biggest fear is that if she succeeded and they woke that they would be disappointed in the princess they found before her. And what of her feelings for them? They sent her away when she was too young to protect herself, they may have felt they were saving her but they had ultimately sent her on a journey of abandonment, abuse, and loneliness. Emma was still trying to find a way to forgive them.

She glanced back at Killian, who was now talking with her first mate; the morning sun illuminated his face, highlighting his, now a few days old, stubble so that the few red hairs shone bright against their black counterparts. He looked scruffier than his usual kingly self, his skin reddened by the sun and salt air, his longer hair falling into his face, lightly dampened by the sea mist. He walked with a new swagger, no doubt caused by the weight of his leather duster jacket she'd made him wear, but despite the change in his appearance and stature the same blue eyes, swirling with sympathy, kindness, hurt, and uncertainty, that had locked onto her that day in the palace cells, shone brightly every time they met hers across the deck on the ship. For all their questionable decisions her parents had been right about one thing, Killian. It seemed almost unbelievable that they could have known all those years ago how perfectly matched their daughter and their loyal friend's son would be; how they would fiercely love each other and fight for each other, working seamlessly together like a fine tuned machine. Was it coincidence or divine intervention that the King and Queen made such a match?

There was no use fighting the smile slowing spreading across her face as the king excused himself from his conversation and made his way over to her, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

"Would it please the Captain to take a break and eat with me?"

"It would certainly please your wife."

He nodded his head happily, stepping aside and allowing her to lead the way, she walk ahead, stopping quickly to plant a kiss on his rough cheek, she could taste the sea salt on his skin, and giving him a small sweet smile walked down to their quarters.

Upon entering she saw the table set with a bottle of wine, two goblets, a plate of bread and fish and a bowl of fruit.

"Not a bad spread after being at sea for a week." She smirked.

"Only the best for you, m'lady." He winked at her and pulled out her chair waiting for her to take her place.

She played along taking her seat and allowing him to push her chair in for her before taking his own place across from her.

"What happened to 'Captain'?"

"Up there you are the Captain, but in here, when it is just us, you are my wife and my Queen" He offered as explanation, then cocking his head slightly as he picked up a piece of fish and popping it in his mouth added, "after all of all the people on this boat you are the only one with royal blood."

Emma cast him a warning glance but he missed it, concentrating on pouring them both wine, trying not to spill as the ship gently rocked.

"I was wondering when this subject would arise." She answered warily.

"Well it is a true statement is it not?"

"Killian…"

He held up his hand, "It's alright Emma, I do not judge or envy your bloodline; it will just take a little getting used to how our roles have changed."

"That day we met, the prince with the tortured soul and empty chest and the down on her luck pirate with no prospects, we may have been in a different situation but the only change I see in you from that day, your highness, is this…"

She quietly rose from the table and walked around to his side, perching on his lap and laying her hand on his chest. His heart beat with a steady rhythm, strong and constant against the palm of her hand. He released a heavy sigh and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her body tight against his.

"I am no King" he whispered hoarsely.

"I disagree. Your father raised a kingdom from ruin and ashes, your brother made it strong…"

"And I shirked responsibility and wallowed in depression when they were taken from me."

She silenced him with a gentle brush of her lips against his and then continued, speaking softly.

"That may be the case but you came back when your kingdom needed you, even though the thought of being King brought you pain, you restored hope to the kingdom and when it was reduced to rubble and ashes once again you did what your father did, only better. You rebuilt and raised the walls and the spirits of your subjects, you've given them something to fight for, someone to believe in. I've seen you rule justly and wisely. You have years of experience, I know nothing of ruling, so tell me, what use is the blood pumping through my veins when it comes to matters of the kingdom?"

"You seemed to do admirably as Queen consort, you slipped into that position effortlessly, perhaps, darling, you are more of a natural than you give yourself credit."

She lifted his chin so his gaze met her emerald eyes, blazing with the passion he admired so much about her. "Don't you see Killian; that was because I had you? We are strongest when we work together, King and Queen, husband and wife; we are each other's best asset."

He digested her words, as she picked herself up and returned to her meal. He brooded silently while they ate and she knew better than to push him. Instead she peeled the oranges, knowing it was a task he could not do easily with one hand, she laid the segments out for them both to share. A small smile teased his lips.

"Forgive my mood, it is not becoming of a King."

"Perhaps your garb is taking over and you are slowly becoming more ruffian than royal?" She teased him.

"A pirate Queen and her pirate King – who would dare defy us?"

She reached across to grab his arm, "Only a fool."

His brows shot up, "Not many would dare call the Dark One such."

"I am not your average woman"

"Indeed not."

His features tightened once more, a wave of doubt and fear crossing over him. He'd spent years trying to learn the Dark One's secrets in hope of finding a weakness so he could avenge Milah's death. Now the beast had attacked so much more, his Kingdom, his father's legacy, his Swan Princess. Anger bubbled in his veins as the desire to inflict the upmost pain on his lifelong enemy seeped into the cracks in his soul. Emma watched as his fist clenched; his knuckles so white it was as if the bones themselves were protruding from his hand. His mouth curled down into a sneer so sinister it sent a chill down her spine while his eyes burned with rage. She saw the darkness cloud his eyes as his mind carried him off to a murky place, he was facing her but his gaze was past her, in a different place altogether.

"Killian..?"

He was hauled back to the room abruptly by her voice; her soft worried features coming into focus after a couple blinks of his eyelids.

"We must defeat the Dark One" His voice was gruff and scratchy, matching the desperation in his eyes, lifting up to meet hers when her fingers tightened their grip on his forearm, sinking into his flesh.

"We will" she assured him, her voice betraying her own fears wondering herself how a small group of ordinary people could possibly overthrow the most magical being in the realms.

Sitting there in front of her, his eyes diverted, perhaps afraid they'd reveal to her the depths of the growing cancer of vengeance in his soul. It was a dark side of him she'd yet to meet fully, though she was unsure if she wanted to. Shaking those thoughts away she swallowed hard, this was her Killian, he may have his heart back and a new sense of purpose but the old scars remained and were in some ways more putrid than the physical one healing on his wrist had been. The body healed quickly, the heart, not so much. Emma knew, only too well, how crippling hatred and a thirst for revenge could be, like drops of ink bleeding all over your soul staining it.

It was easy to move swiftly down the street, drifting from shadow to shadow under the cover of nightfall; ominous laughter pierced the cold night air, perverse and grotesque, no doubt a reflection of its owner. Emma followed the music and snickers, punctuated with groans of pleasure stolen from another. Reaching the amber glow of the dingy windows, she peered inside, straining to see through the dirt smeared glass. There were around six men inside most of who were sizing up a row of girls in their early teen years standing nervously huddled close together. Emma could feel the bile rising in her stomach, she knew their fear, felt their pain and despair. She tapped her pocket; the jingling sound assured her she had her escape plan for those girls ready.

She recounted the men inside, six in total, three seated around a table directly in front of the girls, one behind the bar, one playing a dilapidated piano and one on the door. A more thorough scout of the room revealed a few barrels of ale sat beside the bar, three or four empty tables surrounded by chairs were dotted around the room, dimly lit by candles on each table and scattered dusty oil lamps hanging from the ceiling. The girls were on display on stage; a heavy moth eaten velvet curtain had been drawn open to reveal them and tied up with rope on the side of the stage. The men jeered at the girls drunkenly fighting over who would get which prize.

Emma was just about to make her move when she saw him; there was no mistaking the gorilla like build and slow exaggerated movement of the man who just entered, his left leg dragging slightly behind his right due to a bad case of grout. Mr Crocke was frog like by name and by looks, his bulbous eyes protruding from his thick warty pink skin and large flabby chin sliding into his thick next gave him the appearance of a fat toad. A fire burned inside Emma as she looked onto the man who had used her for his own depraved entertainment and to spin a profit with his punters. Hatred soared through her veins as she watched him greet his customers with a hearty slap on the back, his disgusting laughter echoing. She watched as he paired one of the men with a redheaded girl and led them to a door in the back, as soon as it shut behind them Emma made her move.

She threw her body against the door pushing it open with such force it stunned the doorman just enough for her to hit him across the head with the hilt of her short sword knocking him out. Without missing a beat she thrashed her sword cutting the rope holding the curtain in place and it fell down covering the girls. Beside it the pianist had stopped but before he could rise Emma shut the lid of the piano down on his fingers, breaking a few of them. His scream filled the room and she saw the bartender reaching down below the bar, for a weapon no doubt, but before he could lift it up to fire she pulled a small razor like knife from her boot and threw it across the room where it embedded itself in his neck spirting blood over the polished wooden bar.

The two remaining men at the table scrambled up from their seats, unarmed and shaking in their boots they raised their hands in surrender as she stood pointing the blade of her sword at them.

"Leave now and live"

They needed no more encouragement, scurrying like vermin bumping into each other as they ran for their lives.

Emma walked over to the curtain lifting it back to reveal the girls hugging each other as the cowered together.

"Stay here, I'm going to help you, I'll be right back, don't say a word" She held her finger to her lips and they nodded in reply.

She hurried, stepping over the bartenders body, through the back door which led into a dimly lit corridor lined with doors. Quietly she listened at each one until she heard muffled voices; she burst through in time to interrupt the business transaction taking place. Taking the occupants of the room by surprise she lunged forward until her blade was pressed firmly against Mr Crocke's jowls. His eyes bulged larger than usual once he realised who his captor was.

"Emma! What the…" he stopped talking and started spluttering as her sword pressed harder against this scaly skin drawing a droplet of blood.

"Not a word, toad!" She warned and then turning to the girl said, "Go to the other girls and wait for me."

"Now wait a minute" The high pitched protest came from the man still standing behind her. "I paid good money here and you just let my sale walk right out the door…I…I deserve compensation!"

Emma cocked her eyebrow in amusement and her lips curled up. While she stood her ground with her sword firmly against Mr Crocke in one swift movement another razor edge dagger slid down her sleeve into her free hand and she flicked it so that it grazed the man's crotch pinning his trousers to the doorframe missing removing his family jewels by mere millimetres.

"Your compensation is that I will give you to the count of three to vacate these premises before I throw my next blade a fraction higher and make you a eunuch. One..."

The man pulled at the dagger trying to un-wedge it from the doorframe with no joy.

"…two…"

Finally he forgot the blade and lunged forward with all his might tearing his trousers almost clean off while he shrieked running away. Emma turned her attention back to Mr Crocke.

"You've exploited your last child…"

"Ok, ok, I'll close down shop, leave town, you'll never see me again…" he blubbered.

"So you can go somewhere else and pick up business again, I don't think so!"

"NO, no, I swear, never again…I promise…" beads of sweat began to run down his forehead, his eyes glued to the sword still pointing at him.

Emma had thought about this moment for years, enacting retribution on the man who took so much from her. She knew she could capture him and deliver him to the authorities where he would rot in a cell but it still seemed too good for him, air in his lungs was too good for him. Knowing if she hesitated she would talk herself out of it she plunged her sword into his throat and sliced to his navel. Blood oozed out like tar as his body slumped to the floor, beady eyes still open in horror as his body lay lifeless washing the floor with blood.

Standing for a few seconds she waited; waited for the weight to lift from her shoulders, for the scars to heal over, for the guilt to fade away, the memories to leave her as his soul left his body for hell. She stood and the minutes passed, staring at his corpse willing the relief to come…but it eluded her. The bitterness she had welcomed into her soul stayed there, the sour taste still in her mouth, the memories of the vile things he'd made her do still played vividly in her mind. Killing him had eased none of it.

Eventually she abandoned her efforts of vindication and walked back down the empty corridor to the main room where the girls still stood whispering amongst themselves, shaking as she approached them soaked in the blood of her victims. She reached into her coat and pulled out small bags of coins.

"Here, these are for you…to make a fresh start."

The girls stared at the money in disbelief.

"But how?" One of them, a petite blonde, no older than 16, piped up. "All we know is selling ourselves to men, and that's all we're good for."

Emma leaned over and rested her hands on the girl's shoulders looking directly into her eyes.

"Listen to me, all of you, there will always be people who try to tell us who we are, how strong we are, how smart we are, how valuable or dispensable we are. We have no control over what other people think or say about us but we do have control over whether or not we listen to them. We are the ones who decide who we are and who we become, we make our own fate. In those bags is enough money for each of you to make a clean break and make what you want of yourself. You're in control of your destiny now."

She'd been so lost in her thoughts the sound of the cabin door closing made her head snap up. Killian was gone. Sighing she marched over to her desk and grabbed her maps and clutching them in her fists stomped out the room and back above deck.

The King had taken the helm and was brooding as he listened to reports from the first mate. Emma should have been angry at his taking control but he was a skilled sailor and had captained his own crews in the past during his time serving his brother in the Navy. She could understand his impatience, a lifetime devoted to finding a way to rescue her father paired with years searching for the Dark One just to find himself so close to both. He wore his anxiousness, fear, and weight of responsibility as clearly as he did his leather coat and hook. All in all, the atmosphere cloaking him wasn't great for moral.

Emma waited for Smee to finish then propelled by the heavy breath she released approached her stewing husband. The collar of his coat was turned up, his shoulders were hunched, jaw set and eyes focused on the horizon ahead of him. His body language read 'stay away' but Emma knew better. Besides, she was, if nothing else, persistent.

Ignoring his mood she opened the maps setting it on top of the helm in silent instruction for him to look, his eyes darted down to it.

"We're here" she pointed to a spot in the ocean that meant nothing to him. She untucked the top section of the map showing a large mass of land due north.

"Misthaven" he muttered.

"I'd say if these winds keep up we could drop anchor in a couple hours, it should be in our sights soon enough."

His eyes returned to the horizon, he chewed his bottom lip, bedevilled by his thoughts.

Emma glanced behind her to the steady wave left in the ships wake, a nervous tick she'd picked up this voyage, a flaw she refused to admit to herself, and then leaned back against the railings joining Killian in watching the line where the sky met the sea.

"I'm nervous about seeing my parents" she confessed, hoping to reopen the lines of communication. "I'm anxious about what they will say when they first see me, I'm scared that once they find out about the life I lived they will be disappointed in what their daughter became, and finally I know that to love them enough to break the curse I will have to forgive them for the choices they made and I'm struggling to believe I can do that."

With his back still turned to her his face softened at her admission.

She continued with a sigh, "But I know I have to find a way and so I will. I will forgive my parents for giving me up, I have to choose to believe they had no choice and it was a decision made out of love and desperation."

"It was" he whispered, just loudly enough for her to catch over the lull of the lapping waves.

"I've used many weapons in my lifetime but forgiveness…well I am beginning to believe it could be the most effective blade I wield yet."

She watched his body finally relax, "Aye, love, that may be true but there is no greater motivator than vengeance."

Emma shook her head, "But what if we've been doing it wrong this whole time? Holding onto anger and letting it consume us when what we needed to do was forgive."

He spun around to face her, eyes burning. "Are you really comparing your inability to forgive your parents for an impossible choice they were forced to make to my hating the Dark One for uprooting us all, killing Milah, and destroying Aaralyn?!" He hissed through clenched teeth "The same Dark One, by the way, who put your parents in the situation that led them to give you up!"

"No" she said quietly, "But I know what it is like to hate someone so much that it dictates every choice you make and sets you on a road to vengeance. I know what it is like to feel that rage pumping through your veins while you look your enemy in the eye knowing he is at your mercy, and I know how it feels to withhold that mercy and watch the horror in their eyes when while you cut them down and witness their last breath."

Killian leaned in, "And for that I envy you, I've no doubt it felt bloody satisfying!" He turned to take his place back at the ships helm.

"I thought it would to, but it didn't…"

Her words stopped him in his tracts. "What?"

"I stayed there waiting for it to happen, I stood until the blood congealed willing the relief to come, the feeling of purpose, for the memories to vanish, for, as you put it, the satisfaction. It never came. Nothing changed. I was still alone and empty inside, I felt nothing."

He mulled over her words. "That may be the case and you might be right Emma, god knows you usually are, but I have carried this burden my whole life, when I do finally meet my advisory I can't guarantee that I will take the high road or the righteous path."

"I understand, but I can guarantee you that if you allow the hate and vengeance to consume you, if you don't fight it, it will destroy you, it will destroy us, and it will destroy everything we have fought for."

He opened his mouth to reply but before he could utter a word he was interrupted by the cry "land ahoy" from the crow's nest. They both looked back to the horizon squinting. Emma pulled her spyglass from her pocket and brought it to her eye, closing the other tightly. There in the distance she could make out the silhouette of the mountains of Misthaven standing proud from the shimmering ocean. She handed the spyglass to Killian who copied her action, his lips forming into a slow smile.

"Misthaven; ready to learn more of your beginnings, love?"

She nervously glanced back behind them once again at the empty sea. "I guess we're going to find out".

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