I'M SO SORRY I TAKE SO LONG. I KNOW I SUCK.

He dreams of her nearly every night.

The visions that play over in his mind as he sleeps become even clearer as more time passes— vivid, bright green eyes that stare into his soul and beautiful blonde hair that gets carried by the breeze and the firm feeling of fingers laced between his own. Sometimes, she hums something he isn't familiar with as they walk along a path or beside the ocean, her voice angelic in every way, lulling him deeper into sleep only for another dream to begin. As one who's rarely remembered details of his dreams (shapes and murmured phrases he can't understand, rarely any faces at all), he finds it curious how his mind suddenly wants to remember every detail—vision and sound and touch alike.

There are times where he sits straight up in the middle of the night, grasping for her hand even though it is not there. Yet, as he buries his face into his knees and tries to regain his bearings, he can still feel her palm against his as if she had only just let go. He can still sense her as if she was sitting right beside him.

He's bloody ruined.

Sleep finds him again, and he welcomes it usually, only to see her face again. When there are weeks that go by without him seeing her, he thrives on the images that his mind conjures up. In a way, they are what get him through those long days and nights. In another, they only make him crave her more.

The world always pulls him back, back to the rocking of his ship and the duties he is responsible for. Sometimes, he wakes to his brother's knit eyebrows. Killian wonders if he's whispered her name into the quiet, if somehow he's given away his predicament to the brother that he used to tell everything without a second of hesitation.

Somehow, this is different. This is his own secret, a thrill that he will keep to himself until the moment is right. She's his princess, and there's a selfish part of him that simply doesn't wish to share.

He refuses to think of the beauty and simplicity of their agreement fading away before it has a reason to be spoken aloud. It's much too precious, the only mess he's ever found himself in that makes him think inconsistency can be positive. The rush he feels around her is unreal, his veins pulsing with a fire he is so unfamiliar with.

Unfamiliar has never been so desirable.

(And yet, there is a nagging in the back of his mind that knows they will not be a forever affair. They have their fun, but they are ultimately incompatible, he thinks. She is a princess, with responsibilities, and he is simply a welcome distraction for the time being. He is a seaman who values what he can predict, and she is the opposite. He knows that eventually, he will stop holding her back from what she needs to do, that he will kiss her one last time and walk away to let her live the life she is meant to live.)

(For now, he pushes all of those thoughts away.)

(So, so bloody ruined.)

One night, a dream shakes him to his core. His beautiful princess is leading him through the forest, turning sharp corners and running across streams without finding a bridge to cross them with. There is no path, only the sound of her laughter and the faintest sliver of light to guide him. He follows her, diligently—wanting never to lose sight of her, only to turn a corner and have her disappeared from view. The darkness is suddenly looming in her absence, pressing in much too close, and he calls out her name a few times, hoping that she isn't gone forever.

She can't be.

"Emma."

"Killian, wake up."

He starts at the voice, sitting straight up in his cot. His eyes look for her automatically, scanning the dull room and knowing immediately that she is not there. Her radiance is not present. Her warmth is nowhere to be found.

A sigh falls past his lips.

His brother is standing over him, brows pinched and eyes narrowed with an emotion that Killian doesn't recognize. He rubs quickly at his eyes and he becomes fully aware of his surroundings, those last edges of sleep (and the vision of her running in front of him) falling away.

(They are tucked away safely in the back of his mind, as is her smile and laughter and everything else so wonderful about her. The rest he pushes far, far away, not wanting to remember that desperation he had felt when she vanished.)

Liam looks as if he'll say something for a moment. His mouth opens slightly. Killian braces himself, knowing that this time, he must have called her name aloud, needing this dream version of her to return to him with such despair. Liam knows who Emma is. He will never approve of the romance. There will be disapproving words, and every time Liam must come back to this land, he will leave Killian behind, never to see his beautiful beloved again.

(Even the thought causes a pain to seize his chest.)

In the end, Liam simply tells him they are closing in on The Enchanted Forest, his expression still strange. Killian only nods, hoping that perhaps, knowledge has eluded his brother for the time being.

And then Liam is gone.

He sees her as they near the shore.

She's wearing a beautiful faint blue gown, and he eyes the necklace around her neck that he knows holds his ring. She is walking around with her parents with her chin held high. Her eyes do not waver over to him or the ship as they dock, and he can feel the disappointment beginning to lodge in his throat. He thinks that perhaps she hasn't even seen his ship when she glances over for the briefest moment and bloody winks at him.

A damn siren, is what she is.

(And he's desperate for her to pull him under with her and drown him.)

As they dock, she and her parents walk up to them. Her smile is proper, but there's a slight smirk teasing the corners of her lips as they approach.

"Captain Jones, nice to see you." Her father shakes his brother's hand, and he wishes he could spend more than two seconds paying attention to the interaction, but his eyes are stuck on her.

"Jones?" Emma asks, her brows knit as if she's never heard the name before in her life. He tilts his head at her and tries not to let his smile grow too wide while her father explains who they both are: Liam and Killian Jones from one kingdom over, Navy, very respected.

"Killian, Liam, it is a pleasure," she says, taking Liam's hand for a moment and then she reaches for his. Electricity sparks where their palms meet and travels up his arm. He smiles a little wider than he intends to, thankful when it goes unnoticed. When she lets his hand go, he feels the loss immediately.

"What brings you to our parts today?" she asks, her voice lifted and for a moment she sounds so royal, so comfortable in her role of a princess. The ability to command the position is effortless, the prestige running through her blood shows greatly.

He cannot help the sense of pride that rushes through him, and he hopes it shows in his answering grin. Her eyes sparkle for a moment, and she looks overly pleased with herself as Liam answers her question. She takes a half step closer to him. His heart beats just a bit quicker. It's suddenly much warmer in their little circle of conversation.

"I see," Emma responds, though he thinks she has not heard a single word Liam has said. He knows he has not. Regardless, she smiles, nodding politely at his brother. "I do hope you enjoy your stay while you are with us. It was very nice to meet both of you."

They go to part, to head a separate way, and then suddenly there is a piece of paper tucked tightly into his hand. It's folded over many times, but he knows it was her who placed it there. She manages to give him a quick smile over her shoulder, eyes sparkling and smile mischievous.

He wishes to read it instantly, but he slides it into his pocket as he and Liam head down the street to attend to business.

It's nearly an hour later when he has a moment alone to open the letter. It's simple, scribbled on quickly on the back of a wanted poster for some traitorous thief that she probably grabbed off of a tree when she saw his ship on the horizon.

(He can only imagine her sneaking the page, finding something to write on it with, all while walking with her parents and fulfilling her duties alongside them.)

(He grins at the thought of the image.)

"Shoreline. One mile north of the docks. Just after dusk. Love, E."

His heart squeezes.

Love.

He smiles at the rumpled piece of paper, folds it back up as neatly as possible, and tucks it back into his pocket before returning to his brother, already looking forward to their tasks being completed.

"I quite enjoyed your little letter," he tells her when they meet. He comes up behind her, and she turns to greet him. It seems like it's been much longer than a few short hours since he last saw her smile, but the second she flashes it at him, it feels as if no time has passed at all. "How did you become so sly?"

Their fingers brush as he moves to stand beside her, and her smile turns nearly conniving. "After many years of sneaking out of a guarded castle in order to escape my parents and responsibilities, the skills have simply come to me. I've nearly perfected them."

"Nearly?" He raises a brow at her, and he can see her own quirk up at his question.

"One can always improve in such areas, I believe," she explains with a smile.

He hums, his hand finally capturing hers. A sigh escapes her lips as if a dam has finally been broken by their touch, and she leans into him. "You should have seen me earlier today when I realized we were going to run into each other at the docks. I'm surprised my parents didn't notice I was having a difficult time simply putting one foot in front of the other."

"Does my presence affect you that strongly?" he asks her, hoping that his palm doesn't start sweating in hers.

She doesn't say anything for a long moment, and he would look over at her if he weren't so terrified of what he may find in her expression. "If you had even a hint of an idea of the effect you have on me, Killian Jones, you would sail away on your ship and find immeasurable reasons to never return."

"I doubt that how you feel is much different than how I do," he whispers without pause, his voice low as if someone could overhear, as if it is a secret that should never be revealed to even the nearby insects. He turns to face her, then, taking her other hand in his as well. She's looking up at him expectantly, waiting for him to speak words of affection or spill words that poets would be envious of, but he cannot find a single syllable. The sentences he wishes to speak get as lost as he is in her green depths, sparkling with something he doesn't recognize in the light from the moon overhead.

So he presses his lips to hers softly, willing his heart to stay in his chest as she kisses him in return. She's so close, so dangerously close, and he wishes nothing more than to convince her to run away with him, her entire kingdom be damned. All he wants is to kiss her forever, to hold her body next to his and know that it's what she wishes as well.

He's about to do something foolish, beg her to never leave his side and be with him forever, when he hears his name echoing off the ocean.

"Killian? Are you out here?"

They break apart, both inhaling the oxygen they need in quick breaths. She's clinging to his jacket tightly, and he presses his forehead against hers, sighing. His idiotic thoughts have fled for the time being, his entire self forced back into the reality from which he cannot seem to ever escape for long. "That's my brother," he breathes, and she nods in understanding.

He should just push her away, tell her as he should have done weeks ago that this affair cannot continue, that he is only going to ruin her and everything she has set up for herself here, that she terrifies him and it is best if they end this now. As with every time before, however, he can't seem to let her go like he knows he should.

Instead, he kisses her once more, murmurs "Until next time, my love," and then lets her slip from his arms so he can head towards his brother.

She is a weakness that he cannot overcome, a craving that he fears will never go away no matter how diligently he attempts.

Liam looks as if there is something he wants to say, but Killian only nods at him as he passes and heads toward the ship. Once he is a safe distance away, far enough that Liam won't see his actions in the darkness, he lets his fingertips brush against his lips.

He can still taste her.

(He's a damned lovestruck fool.

If only he could find it in himself to care.)

"Killian, have you met a girl in the Enchanted Forest?"

(He should have known his bliss would not last.)

His brother's directness the next day nearly makes him choke on his meal. He recovers, glancing over at his older sibling who is waiting with raised brows.

"What makes you ask?" he questions, though he already knows he's lost this battle. He can see it in Liam's eyes that the question is only a formality.

"You disappear for random increments of time when we visit there, and your mood has been different lately, especially when we visit those parts. You're happier," Liam responds, and Killian can see the impatience in his eyes.

Killian pauses, knowing he was out of his mind to think he could keep something like this from his brother. They are all each other have had for so many years—secrets do not get kept for long. "Perhaps," he says, deciding that his simple answer is a safe one.

Liam nods once. "And I take it, unless you have coincidentally found a maiden with the same name as The Enchanted Forest royal highness, that she is the object of your affections."

It isn't a question. Killian ducks his head. "Perhaps."

There's a long moment where nothing is said. Killian can practically hear the machinery of Liam's brain working overtime, and he knows that he is conjuring up some speech about how inappropriate the relationship is and how it should have never started and a hundred other points that Killian knows he's already thought through himself.

(The only difference is Killian is powerless to do anything about it, smitten as he is.)

(He only hopes he can explain that to Liam.)

Finally, when Killian thinks that something should be said or else the room will cave in around them, as much tension has built, Liam speaks.

"Do you love her?"

The question takes him by surprise, but what surprises him even more is how he has to bite his tongue to keep from answering too quickly in the affirmative.

Does he? Truly?

It feels like love, though he has no historical comparison that gives him any reason to believe otherwise. How, in the grand scheme of everything, does one know for sure? In the end, Emma terrifies him. She makes his heart race and his stomach clench and his brain scatter.

It is unlike anything he has ever felt.

He sighs, feeling defeated, because yes, he loves her.

And he knows it will never work.

"Perhaps." His tone sounds as sad as he suddenly feels.

Liam doesn't say anything after that, and Killian can see the perception behind his eyes. His brother knows that "perhaps" is simply a frustrated "yes".

Later that night, the entire predicament keeps him awake.

Somehow, the conversation with his brother has made it all too real. When it was his secret and his secret alone, it was easy to pretend that everything would be alright, that their love would continue to run its course and none would be hurt in the process. It was simple enough to push away thoughts of goodbyes and last kisses as long as no one else knew of their fondness toward each other.

And now, any hopes of his denial continuing are destroyed, tossed into the sea and lost in the ominous waves forever.

He hates that now, he can't stop thinking about where this is all heading. She is monumentally impulsive—she runs away from home when she gets the chance and starts romances with sailors that she fancies and wants to go on grand adventures. It terrifies him to love her like he does, because she wants insanity and spontaneity.

In contrast, he is accustomed to the constant and the planned. It is what has gotten him through his life and never let him down, never taken him off his desired path.

Consistency was all he had, other than his brother. His steady, predictable brother.

So why does her spark and life draw him in?

Why does he wish that he could be more impetuous, more open to the madness that is taking over him? Why does he want so desperately to feel the same things that she feels, the uninhibited passion and the wild freedom? Why does he hope that she'll continue to find him fascinating enough to keep their affair going, even though he knows they are likely doomed? After all, royals marry other royals or loyal guards, at the very least. They don't spend their lives with the likes of him- a simple Navy officer, not even a captain.

He desperately wishes that was not the case.

He ponders everything later that night, staring out into the open sea instead of back at the land on the opposite side of him. The ocean has always been his comfort, but even it does not offer solace to his troubled heart. Liam is already asleep, but Killian is restless, unable to find unconsciousness no matter how hard he tries.

"Bloody hell, Emma," he whispers into the night air, squeezing his eyes shut. "What have you done to me?"