Jarren's Outpost, like Mournstead, was a town that ruled it self and didn't recognise any monarchy. Respect was earnt by trade and reputation. While David was a Prince in this Realm, so far as the Realm remembered, he was a dead one thus they had to rely on Killian's centuries old reputation. With the news spreading through the town he had sunk the Queen Anne's Revenge, thus ridding himself of another contender, was enough to make the crowds part for him as he walked to his destination with David.

However, they were on dangerous ground. Killian's treatment and respect for Emma coupled with the fact he still had Black Beard in the brig for a rainy day had been noted by the crew. It didn't fit in with his usual habit, or at least the habit that rendered him a legend amongst pirating crews in this world. Word would soon be out and he was not of the mind to defend his reputation with Princess Emma in such close proximity.

'We're going to have to ditch the crew here,' Killian said to David as they wound their way from the docks into the streets of Jarren's Outpost. 'We can't risk them revealing we have the Princess on board, or we still have Black Beard.'

It was dark in the streets with houses overhanging their original outer walls. On most corners, women of trade attempted to gain their interest however, both men walk past without showing any interest. They wouldn't even been in this part of the town were it not for the Oracle who inhabited one of the hovels in the depths of this winding maze of houses.

'What do you intend to do with him?' David asked.

Killian raised his eyebrow. 'Well, there isn't much choice in the matter,' he replied. 'Once we've had the opportunity to speak with him, it's either us or him who's going to end up in deep water.' He looked at the disgruntled prince beside him. 'I warned you this would be hard for you to swallow, your highness. We have to stick to the code or we'll have every pirate coming down on us thinking we're an easy target.' He glanced around the houses. 'Right, be on your guard. The Oracle might be a mouth piece of the Olympians, but if she favoured Hades…'

'Right,' replied David slowly, adjusting his sword into place rather than letting hang at his side. 'Why are we going there again, if that's the case.'

Killian pulled a cork stopped bottle from his coat. In it was water and the torn remains of a sail. David looked at it with some surprise as Killian sighed heavily.

'It was a cursed storm,' explained Killian, 'and while it pains me to quote the Crocodile, magic may well be able to change forms, but it can never be truly destroyed. That storm was aimed at us. Were it not for Emma, we'd be introducing ourselves to Davy Jones himself.'

'Davy Jones is real?' asked David.

'I don't know, mate' replied Killian, biting out his words with a bit of frustration now, 'but given just about everyone else is real, even those we thought were stories, I wouldn't bet against it.'

David raised his eyebrows before chuckling. 'Finally, something even you wouldn't bet against.'

-/-

While Emma was initially irked by Hook's demand she remain on the ship with Henry, she found herself enjoying the company of the upbeat young boy who seemed to look up to the Captain with a great deal of affection. She learnt Hook had been married to his mother and Hook had promised to care for him should anything happen to her. However, the young boy was not keen to divulge the circumstances of the loss of his mother beyond a mumbled 'there was a curse.'

She couldn't help but think this wasn't the sort of life for someone barely out of childhood but life dealt strange hands sometimes. Besides, he seemed reasonably well cared for between Hook and Mr Nolan, so who was she to judge. She who to the chagrin of her mother had neither married nor produced offspring. She whiled away so of the time looking around the deck. Whenever she had travelled by ship with her mother, she had been cloistered away in the luxurious suite or seated in a chair on the bridge while others worked.

Her hands went to the wheel. Handling the ship with Hook had been magnificent. She still didn't understand why he had put his trust in her as the storm waged down on them. He had just said after, rather enigmatically, that it had been the right thing to do.

'Well, it seems the Princess fancies herself a pirate,' Hook's voice rung out from the deck below.

Emma jumped, skittering back from the wheel as Hook walked up to the bridge. Behind him, Mr Nolan shook his head in utter exasperation while Henry smirked as if the three of them were sharing some private joke. Emma drew herself to her full height, not wanting to be cowed but more than aware of the blush creeping on her cheeks as the pirate walked over.

'Was your foray successful?' she asked with a touch of haughtiness to disguise the acute embarrassment she felt creeping on her cheeks in the form of a blush.

'If you consider dodging fireballs from an angry oracle because she thinks you were responsible for killing her God, then absolutely,' said Mr Nolan in a dour voice, glancing at Killian.

Emma looked at him too, thunderstruck because no mere mortal could surely be responsible for such an act. However, there was something lingering in his eyes, a brightness she couldn't place. It didn't make sense. If she was honest, none of this made sense.

'You killed a God?' Emma asked.

Killian looked up. 'Not directly, love,' he replied, before looking away. 'Mr Nolan, you need to see about repairs to the foremast. Take Henry with you. Lad looks like he could do with some solid land beneath his feet.'

Henry smirked as he got to his feet but he got jumped down after Mr Nolan. Emma watched them once they were off the gangplank and on the dockside. Mr Nolan slung his arm over Henry's shoulders and she noticed just how tall the lad was. The two engaged in companionable conversation as they walked passed all the sailors with ease.

'What about me?' she asked once the other two had disappeared into the crowd. 'Are you going to keep me on this ship the entire time we're in port?'

She had to wait for the answer as Hook mulled over charts spread on the housing of the wheel. He seemed perplexed by something, a slight crease between his brows as he flicked through the pages of thin paper the maps were drawn on. She tilted her head to the side then stood on her tip toes to look over his shoulder. The maps were heavily annotated from years of use, but the fading of the ink suggested it had been some years since they had been used.

'Is there a problem?'

Hook started, and she had to jump back as he swung around to look at her. 'That accused storm we barely survived came from the Black Mountains,' he said, leaning back and resting his elbow on the maps. 'But they aren't on the charts.'

'And you thought they were?' she asked. 'How do you know the curse was from the Black Mountains if the Oracle threw a fireball at you.'

Hook shrugged. 'What can I say, love,' he said.

'You can say how you know.'

He sighed. 'The Oracle had a flare for over exaggeration. She revealed it before she threw the fireball.' He turned back to the charts.

'Who was the storm for?' Emma asked after a few moments silence. 'If it was a curse, then it must be for someone.'

'Why do you ask?'

Emma blinked. 'My mother, she always told me the Evil Queen fled there after she… well you know…' she trailed off. 'And she wants me, so the storm was sent for me.'

'No, the storm was aimed at me which means my presence in this realm has been noted,' Hook replied, as he continued to mull over the maps. 'The Evil Queen doesn't want to just kill you, Emma, she wants to destroy you.' He straightened to his full height and turned to her. 'Killing you in a storm would not give her an ounce of satisfaction.'

Emma felt the bottom drop out of her stomach. She stepped back until she had something to grab a hold of. 'Why?' she asked in a soft whisper. 'I've done nothing to her.'

He shook his head. 'That isn't entirely true,' he replied.

'What do you mean?' she asked. 'I've barely left the Ivory Tower, much less met the darkest of villains. You,' she continued, pointing at him, 'are the most notorious villain I've met.'

'That I am,' he said, a bite to his voice, exasperation, 'but what if I told you what you believe of your life is nothing more than the product of a curse?'

Emma blinked. 'What?' she shook her head. 'No, curses put people to sleep until True Love's Kiss wakes them, not fill their head with fake memories and force live miserable lives.'

'Actually,' said Hook slowly, 'that is just what the Evil Queen specialises in when she wants to deal out a bit of revenge.'

Emma planted her hands on her hips. 'Prove it.'