Chapter 11

Enchanted Forest, about a year and a half before the 1st curse

Anne looked left then right, determined there was no one in sight, and then filched the simple peasant dress from the clothes line, promising herself she would return it when her adventure had come to an end. She ran swiftly through the woods, savoring the exhilaration her small act of piracy had thrumming through her whole system.

What am I doing? This is insane!

She'd already told herself a million times that this plan was crazy, and she'd only conceived it two days ago! If prim and proper Miss Phyllis Hornigold ever learned what she was really doing today…well, let's just say Edward's victims would probably have it easier than she would.

But insane or not, she was doing this. She could not live one more day in her stifling, suffocating life. Maybe if she gave in to this one insane whim, she'd get it out of her system, and then she would be content to settle into the life her benefactress planned for her.

And it wasn't like she planned to do anything truly scandalous. Maybe she'd sample a drink or two. Maybe she'd flirt like the women in the spicy novels she fervently prayed Miss Hornigold never learned she secretly read. Maybe she'd even allow a handsome sailor to steal a kiss. But it would go no farther than that. She'd see to it.

When she'd finally reached the dark heart of the forest, Anne slowed to a stop and leaned against a tree to catch her breath. Reaching up, she quickly unpinned her nearly black hair, shaking it until it fell in riotous curls to the middle of her back. She pinned up the sides to keep them out of her face and peered at her distorted reflection in the rushing brook nearby. Aye, this would do.

Looking around once again to be sure she was well and truly alone, Anne made short work of shedding her proper, expensive dress and donning the peasant garb. She looked down and blushed. She felt half naked. Never had she exposed so much cleavage. If the lack of material was not bad enough, the tight, front-lacing corset certainly pushed her…um…assets into prominent view.

Oh this was crazy! Maybe she should just forget the whole venture. She could return the borrowed dress and go back to Miss Hornigold's house with none being the wiser.

Then her mind drifted back to the event, two days past that had led to her…unusual…plot. She'd had yet another row with Miss Hornigold about a gentleman suitor.

Edward had been as good as his word and had insisted in no uncertain terms that Anne was not to be forced to accept the hand of any suitor unless she wished to do so. From the tight pursing of her lips, the narrowing of her eyes, it was clear Miss Hornigold was far from pleased with this decree, but she nevertheless agreed to it. Blackbeard was already gaining quite the fearsome reputation, and it appeared Miss Hornigold feared to cross him.

But that didn't stop the inexorable spinster from attempting to persuade Anne to willingly accept one of the young men she was constantly parading before her. Persuading, ha! Plaguing the very life out of her was more like it.

This last "gentleman" was the worst by far. Lieutenant Wickham was handsome, she supposed, and well did he know it. The man was a conceited peacock! Clearly believed he was God's gift to women…all women it would seem. In the hour he'd spent at the Hornigold household for tea, he'd already looked over five of the pretty housemaids. Looked over them thoroughly, as though he was imagining them without their clothing.

No sooner had Wickham walked out the front door and down the path toward his carriage then Anne had rounded on Miss Hornigold.

"You cannot be serious!" she said, stomping her small, booted foot.

"And why not?" Miss Hornigold said with a huff. "He's a fine match, my dear. Lieutenant in the king's army, fabulously wealthy, handsome. What's not to like."

Anne's temper rose. "Oh, I don't know," she said in a voice liberally laced with sarcasm, "maybe the fact that if one was to look up the word 'conceited' in the dictionary one would find his picture. Perhaps the fact he's so obviously lecherous that he flirted scandalously with each and every one of our maids right in front of me! I'd prefer my husband at least pretend he intends to remain faithful."

"Nonsense, girl," Miss Hornigold said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Men philander. It's to be expected. As long as a man provides you with a comfortable home, you would be a fool to let such scruples deter you."

Well if men could philander, so could she! That very night she'd decided she would have an adventure, whatever Miss Hornigold might think. She'd carefully thought out the details, and by morning her plan was fully formed.

"I would like to apologize for the shortness of my temper yesterday," Anne said at breakfast. "It was not behavior befitting the dignity of a lady."

Miss Hornigold had looked surprised and pleased. "It is no matter, my child," she said, gently. "You have been under a great deal of strain lately."

"Indeed I have," Anne said with a decisive nod, "and that is precisely what I wished to discuss with you this morning. Miss Hornigold, I believe I require a vacation. As you well know, I have friends residing in the country. Perhaps I would do well to visit with them for a time."

Miss Hornigold had looked at her over her spectacles for long moments. The older woman took a dainty sip of her tea and then nodded. "Perhaps you're right child. Perhaps a change of scenery would do you good."

And so here she was, not in the country with respectable friends after all, but rather in the woods in a scandalous peasant dress heading toward the docks.

Anne put a hand to her chest and took a deep fortifying breath. She was going to do this. She had to do this.

As Anne walked through the village, she reviewed her plan in her mind. Tonight she was not Anne Teach, proper, ladylike eighteen-year-old maiden. No, tonight she was dangerous and exotic. If her brother could take a moniker, so could she. What name should she take? She thought of the exotic flowers that grew along the side of Miss Hornigold's house. Perfect. Tonight she was Tiger Lily.

The road beside the docks was jammed with people—sailors, merchants, everyone in between. Anne got more than her share of catcalls as she hurried, single-mindedly toward her destination.

Finally she was there. The tavern. Taking one more deep, fortifying breath, she pushed open the door and stepped inside.

….

Captain Hook noticed the exotic beauty the moment she entered the tavern. His breath hitched and his eyes burned. She looks like a young Milah. He watched intently as the lass walked tentatively into the smoky, rowdy room and scanned the patrons.

She was young, barely old enough to enter this establishment, if he didn't miss his mark. Hook downed a shot of rum, completely ignoring the far less interesting redhead droning on and on at his side.

The lovely lass sashayed forward, swinging her hips in a rhythm that couldn't help but be alluring. Who was she? Not the typical bar maid; that was clear to see. If he didn't miss his mark—and he never did when it came to women—she was far more innocent than she attempted to appear. What was her story?

Hook got up and walked away from the redhead, leaving her mid-sentence. From the language flowing from her filthy mouth, it would seem she didn't appreciate being ignored. So be it. Hook could afford to be choosy about the women with which he kept company. He didn't like one? There was always a line of others waiting to take her place. It was the benefit of being devilishly handsome; he could play the field with the best of them.

An unwelcome stab of self-loathing hit him. When had he become such a cad? When had he ceased to be the deferential gentleman who treated ladies with unfailing respect?

Liam's death had started him on this path, but it was Milah's murder that had truly destroyed any goodness left in him. With her dead and gone, he had firmly vowed to never, under any circumstances, fall in love again. Love brought nothing but pain.

And so it simply became easier to look at women as decorative playthings. He'd accept what they offered, aye. He'd give them his body, but not his heart. Never his heart. The Crocodile had not only crushed Milah's heart on the deck of the Jolly, he'd crushed Hook's as well.

Hook sauntered toward the dark-haired, blue-eyed beauty, viciously thrusting aside any scruples he might have. He was the fearsome Captain Hook, terror of the high seas and lover extraordinaire. When he wanted something, he took it. And right at this moment he wanted this buxom beauty. Oh, he'd not force her into anything she didn't wish, but there was no end of places his seduction—or his rum—could take him.

She stood by the bar, looking slightly lost. He leaned lazily against the counter, and deliberately invaded her space. "You, lass, look like a woman who could use a drink." He slowly, knowingly ran his eyes from the top of her head to the bottom of her feet and then back again, spending liberal amounts of time on her magnificent décolletage.

Her eyes widened slightly, and a rosy blush colored her cheeks. For a moment she seemed at an utter loss for words. Hook's resulting grin was three parts seduction and one part amusement. The grin seemed to snap her out of her stupor. She visibly pulled herself together.

"That would depend, sailor," she said in a soft, breathy voice, leaning toward him slightly. "Are you offering?"

He moved until he was close enough to feel her breath on his lips. "I prefer 'captain,' love, but aye, I'm offering."

Her eyes widened at his nearness, and he heard her breath hitch. She was stirred by him, no mistake. A drink or two and she'd be putty in his hand.

"Well then," she said with a coy little smile, "Aye, I could use a drink."

Hook motioned to the bartender, who promptly brought him a large, half-filled bottle of rum. Grabbing the rum with one hand, and wrapping his opposite arm around the lass's shapely waist, Hook began moving toward the shadowy back of the tavern. "What say we find a table where we can get some…privacy?"

She drew in a quick breath, and then lazily let it out. "Sounds good to me, Captain."

He seated her, and then drew up his own chair so near to hers their legs were nearly touching. The lass's blush deepened. Grabbing two shot glasses, he poured them drinks. Hook tossed his back, but the lass hesitated.

"Don't stand on ceremony love," he said silkily.

She nodded, downed her glass, and then promptly started sputtering and coughing. Hook rubbed her back, invading her space even farther. "Are you alright, there, lass?"

"A..aye," she said around a spasm of coughing. "I believe drank too quickly."

Hook continued rubbing her back, leaning in. "Fear not, love," he whispered lasciviously in her ear. "If you should choke, I'm well-adept at mouth-to-mouth resuscitation."

Her eyes widened. "I'm sure you are," she said breathily.

Hook chuckled, pouring her another drink. The lass took the glass gingerly in her hand, raised it to clink with his, and the delicately sipped at it.

Hook leaned back languidly against his chair, and looked the lass over. She was nervous—he could see it in the slight tremor in her hand, in the flush of her cheeks, in the way her eyes shifted to him and then quickly away again—but she wished to appear the accomplished seductress. What led such a young innocent—for he had no doubt her experiences with men were limited—to pursue such a dangerous game?

"I find myself curious, love," he said. "Just who might you be?"

"Tiger Lily," she said simply.

Hm. A pseudonym. Interesting.

"Something tells me that's not the name your parents gave you."

She gave him a look that was somehow both demure and seductive. "What fun would it be if I gave you all my secrets?"

Hook chuckled, more intrigued by this woman by the moment. "What fun indeed, love? Very well. You may keep your secrets. I've no need of them to make sure you're exquisitely satisfied."

She laughed nervously and took another drink.

"So Captain," she said, setting her glass back upon the table, "what about you? Do you have a name to go with your title?"

He raised his left arm, and watched her eyes widen as they fell on his metal appendage. "Hook," he said simply.

"Captain Hook?" she asked in an awed voice.

He leaned forward. "It would seem you've heard of me."

"Aye," she answered, nodding carefully. "One of the most infamous pirates in the realm."

"Indeed," he said with a wicked grin, "but lovely ladies have no need to fear me."

"I don't fear you!" she said a little too quickly.

He chuckled and slid his arm along the back of her chair, leaning forward. "No, of course you don't, darling."

"Is it true that you are the captain of the fastest vessel in all the realms?"

He eyed her curiously. "You are well informed."

She shrugged. "I like to keep abreast of interesting information."

He began rubbing her shoulder, and she leaned in to his touch. "Aye," he said silkily, "the Jolly is a marvel. Suppose I take you to meet her? There's a…nightcap…with your name emblazoned upon it waiting in my quarters."

She looked startled for a moment, and Hook was sure she would refuse. And then she smiled. "Hmmm…a nightcap…that sounds interesting," she said. "Lead on Captain."

Camelot, present day

Emma stood at the bedroom window, enjoying the honeysuckle-scented breeze that blew over her face and hair. It was so beautiful here; so peaceful. She was half tempted to leave the Storybrooke gang to their own devices and just remain here with Killian forever.

They'd been in Camelot for two and a half days. It had taken the knights that long to arrange their affairs so that they could be away for an extended period of time. At first, Emma had felt guilty leaving Regina in the lurch for so long, but after the first morning of bliss, she'd decided to put all other thoughts aside and just enjoy the time she had with her husband.

It certainly wasn't the honeymoon she'd expected—although Killian had never told her where he'd planned to take her on their actual wedding trip, preferring to make it a surprise—but in hindsight the best destination the Land Without Magic could afford couldn't be any more idyllic. They'd spent long hours in this large, lavish bedroom, of course—the thought brought a slight blush to Emma's cheeks and a secret smile to her lips—but they'd also walked the grounds, sat hand in hand in the lavish gardens, laughed and talked with their fathers, just enjoyed each other's company. Killian was in his element here, and Emma loved seeing him so happy, so playful, so utterly relaxed.

As though summoned by her thoughts, her husband crept up behind her, and wrapped his arms around her silken-nightgown clad middle. He leaned down and brushed a light kiss over her neck. "Morning, love. I was hoping you'd awakened."

Emma leaned back against him and rested her hands on his hand and stump. "Yeah," she said, "I've been up for a while. I woke to a completely empty bed, and thought it was kind of a shame. I can't have nearly as enjoyable of a morning when you're not around."

Killian turned her in his arms and grinned wickedly down at her. "Well I'm here now. Perhaps we should return to the bed; I could more than adequately…apologize…for my earlier absence."

Her heart raced at the very suggestion, and she was more than half tempted to agree, but then common sense won out. "Don't think that's going to be possible, pirate. Breakfast's in twenty minutes, and you know how angry the cook gets when people are late to her meals."

Killian shuddered playfully. "Well do I know it. Ruthless as a pirate, that one is. I snuck down to the kitchens this morning, hoping to secure some provisions that we might share here in our chambers, and the lass fair to ripped my head clean from my shoulders.

Emma laughed, and then looked over their bedroom once more. Stone floor covered with lavender-scented rushes, stone walls with brilliant colored tapestries, huge fireplace, large, canopied bed. "It all looks so beautiful," she said under her breath.

"Aye," he said, never taking his eyes from her face, "it does at that, my love."

Emma blushed and dropped her eyes to the necklaces on his chest. "Killian, I'm a mess. No make-up, my hair looks like a bird tried to build a nest in it, and a Camelot night-gown so proper a nun might wear it."

He leaned forward and kissed her softly, slowly. "It matters not," he whispered against her lips. Even in your worst state you'd still be the most beautiful woman in the world."

Emma kissed him back, bringing her hand up to caress his stubbled jaw, and then finally pulled back. "Now I'm really running late. Time to get dressed."

"Shall I help you, love?" he asked hopefully.

She laughed. "Not a good idea, Jones. For one thing, now that I'm back to wearing normal Land Without Magic clothes rather than the torture devices known as Camelot dresses, I can manage getting dressed on my own."

"Aye," he said glumly, "that is a sad fact."

"And for another," she said with a short kiss to his lips, "I get the impression that with your help, I might end up with my clothes off rather than on."

He grinned wickedly. "Indubitably."

She pushed at him, and he reluctantly let her go. "Go make up with the cook so she doesn't spit in our food or something. I'll be down in a minute."

….

Half an hour later, Killian found himself seated between Emma and Queen Guinevere at the king's table. Arthur, himself, sat on his wife's other side. Normally breakfast was a rather modest affair consisting of little more than bread and cheese, possibly a piece of fruit. Today, however, as this was to be the last meal before the knight and lady of prophecy were to leave, it was a lavish affair. The tables were near to falling with the weight of sausages and fruits and pastries and eggs and other unknown dishes of Camelot origin.

Killian enjoyed the food and the camaraderie more than he could have believed possible. He was beyond grateful he'd thought to bring the lass here to recruit allies. It wasn't merely the heavenly hours he'd spent with his love that caused his satisfaction. He was comfortable here. He'd come to enjoy the amenities of the Land Without Magic; indoor privies and hot showers alone worth any inconvenience of confusion, but he always felt at a loss in what the lass called the "modern world." It was as though he were a step behind at all times. Here, he was in his element. Here he was the one teaching Emma rather than the other way around.

The meal continued apace, laughter and pleasant conversation flowing all around. Killian had just swallowed his last bite when a wizened old woman approached the dais and bowed rather stiffly. He'd seen the woman before, but he couldn't recall making her acquaintance.

"Captain and Mrs. Jones," Arthur said formally, getting to his feet, "might I present Eleanor, our newest castle healer."

"The best healer any castle could have," Guinevere said enthusiastically.

The healer moved forward, and patted the queen on the cheek in a rather grandmotherly way. "And how fares our little princes or princesses this morning?"

Guinevere laughed. "They're both quite active this morning. I do believe they're holding a joust."

"They shall lead you a merry chase, Your Majesty," the healer said with a toothless grin.

"And we shall enjoy every moment of it," Arthur exclaimed.

The old woman shuffled forward and looked at Killian and Emma speculatively. She stretched her gnarled hand forward and placed it on Emma's belly.

"Ah," the woman said with a smile, "it seems ye'll soon have a babe of yer own to prepare for Mrs. Jones."

Emma looked up, surprised, and then laughed. "Eleanor," she said in a voice heavily laced with humor, "Killian and I have only been married for three days now. I think it's a little early to start talking about pregnancy!"

The woman shrugged and then gave Killian and Emma a smile. "Whether it's been three days or three years, mark my words, mark my words, a babe you shall soon have."

Killian's heart leapt at the words. A baby! With Emma! No doubt the lass was right, it was too soon to hope for such a miracle, but he prayed that one day it was a blessing they would be granted.

The healer walked slowly away, and Emma watched her with a speculative gaze, her hand unconsciously coming to her stomach. "Well, that was…weird."

King Arthur laughed. "That is Eleanor; always making impressive predictions. She's rarely accurate, but she's absolutely sure every time."

"Well, she's not always wrong," Guinevere said. "She did after all inform me of my pregnancy fully a month before I could have known."

Emma shook her head with a smile. "A baby! I certainly want a few kids someday, but I'd rather wait until we aren't fighting some unknown villain. And, I'd rather be in the Land Without Magic where they have OB/GYNs and hospitals and epidurals and neo-natal intensive care units if needed."

Killian sighed, once again finding himself hopelessly lost.

"You don't have a clue what I'm talking about, do you, Killian?" Emma grinned.

"Alas, no love," Killian said with a theatrical sigh. "I am familiar with the facilities called 'hospitals,' but I must confess to being unaware how they related to child-bearing. Please tell me that husbands and wives are not required to perform conjugal acts within hospitals in order to conceive."

Emma laughed. "No, although I wouldn't put it past Whale and Ruby to use a storage closet every now and then. The hospital is where you go to give birth."

"I am much relieved," Killian said with a grin.

"Well, regardless of when or where the two of you are blessed to become with child," Guinevere said taking her husband's hand, "Arthur and I are eternally grateful to you and wish you all the happiness all the realms have to offer."

….

Emma took off her red leather jacket and wiped at the sweat on her brow. Really, walking through the desert No-Man's-Land between Camelot and the Enchanted Forest in the middle of the summer was ridiculously hot.

"Would you like some water, Buttercup?" her foster father asked, stepping up beside her.

"Yeah, thanks," she agreed taking the canteen from his hand.

They'd been walking for two hours already and probably had just as long left to go. She groaned, hoping they could somehow find a bath when they got back. She'd probably be drowning in sweat before it was all said and done.

"You doing alright?" her father asked with some concern.

"Yeah," she said, shooting him a surprised look. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, honey, you look exhausted."

She blushed slightly. "Yeah…um…Killian and I haven't been getting all that much sleep lately."

He laughed and draped an arm around her shoulder. "Now that I understand. I remember being a newlywed; seemed like your mother and I couldn't get enough of each other."

Emma looked ahead and saw her husband in an animated conversation with his own father. Still farther ahead, Sir Lancelot, the most introverted member of their group, walked forward on his own.

"Dad…" Emma hesitated. "I wanted to apologize."

He gave her a surprised look. "What for, Buttercup."

She shrugged. "Before we left last time, you asked me to talk to Mom, tell her what really happened to you. I meant to go see her; I really did, but then Killian and I got engaged and things were crazy getting ready for the wedding. I did send her a letter, but, I don't know, I never heard back. I don't even know if she got it."

He gave her a side-armed hug. "It's alright Emma. I know how busy things have been for you. Besides, now that you've discovered a new way to travel the realms—and a new way to protect Camelot if any of the knights leave for a time—I might just get the opportunity to go see my Rose and Tommy myself."

"Glad you're taking it like that," Emma said. "I've been wondering something. Was Mom from the Fairy Tale Land, too, or did you meet her in Boston?"

"Rose and I married about five years before the curse sent us to Boston," her father answered. "Her name here was Amelia."

"Amelia," Emma said, trying the name out, "I like it. It's pretty. What about Tommy. Was he born here?"

"Your mother was with child when we were cursed, but aye, your older brother was born in Boston."

They walked in silence for several minutes smiling as they heard the men before them laugh uproariously. Killian must have been very close to his father before he disappeared hundreds of years ago.

"Dad, how are we going to defeat this guy?" Emma asked abruptly. "We don't even know who he is, what he wants. And if he can't be defeated with weapons..." Emma made a helpless gesture with her hands.

"I don't know, Buttercup," he said with a frown. "I've wracked my brain trying to come up with some clue, something that will help you figure out who or what you're dealing with, but I just can't come up with anything. I've never heard of anything like this before. Perhaps you should talk to the mermaid who brought the message to the queen. She may have more information."

"A good idea," Emma said reflectively, "but I don't know how we'll accomplish that. It's not like she has a telephone to call or something. We don't even know what realm she's in."

"Well, there's no point in worrying about all of it now," he said, "it'll all work out somehow. We'll figure it out."

"True love will conquer all and all of that?"

He laughed. "Yeah. Something like that."

He hesitated and then turned to face her. "Emma, you are happy aren't you?"

She looked at him, surprised. "Yeah, of course I am."

"You're satisfied with your life with Killian."

Her face softened. "Dad, I love him. He'd do anything for me; he's even shown he'd be willing to die for me. I don't know what I ever did to deserve that kind of devotion."

He smiled gently. "I've seen the smile he puts on your face; the love he feels for you. I'm glad."

Impulsively Emma hugged him. "I am too, Dad."

"It's just…" he continued, "Captain Hook was infamous. He's well known throughout this realm for the hurt he's caused, the people he's double crossed, the women—some of them wives and daughters—he's seduced. I don't want you getting hurt."

"He's got a past," Emma shrugged. "So what? I have a past too. Trust me, some of the things I did as a stupid kid out on the street…well, you don't even want to know. We've both got skeletons in our closets, and I've made peace with that. Believe me, given my trust issues and skeptical nature, if I wasn't one hundred percent convinced he's changed, I wouldn't have gone within two thousand miles of dating him—let alone marrying him."

"I believe you," her father said reflectively, "but I still urge caution. Killian may have changed, he may be truly a hero now, but there are many people he's hurt, many people who may yet be out for his blood. Vigilance is never amiss."

Notes:

-I'm sorry about the past section, I truly am. It was hard to write about Hook seducing a barely-legal young woman (although in his defense, Anne very much seemed to want to be seduced). Even though we know about his villainous (and presumably womanizing) past, it's still hard to see it (at least for me). I assure you, it wasn't gratuitous; it was vitally important to the plot. Also, incidentally, I put in another allusion to my favorite Jane Austin novel.

-In the current day section, Killian and Emma's honeymoon must sadly come to an end. At least no one is specifically targeting them in this adventure…and least not yet.

-Up next: In the past section, Ursula cooks up a new scheme…a scheme that doesn't even involve sea creatures. In the present day section, we find out what Blackbeard did with Roland. Robin wakes up, but something is definitely not right…