She doesn't miss the sideways glances from the kitchen staff as she silently makes her way to the outskirts of the castle and the town: outside the kitchen door lies a small field, surrounded with a thick line of trees that lead down the hill and to the port. But no one questions her presence, not even on the eve of her wedding: they know Emma is just like her mother, especially in that, to clear her head, she secluded herself in the woods, so this is a common sight for the servants.
Emma is stuck in her own head, worrying more about where she is heading than the glances from all around her - until one of the young kitchen maids, an eight year old girl named Maddie who had just recently begun helping her mother a few weeks before, falls in step with her as she heads towards the door. "Princess Emma, you're getting married tomorrow! Why aren't you getting some sleep?"
Emma sees Maddie's mother begin to head towards them, most likely to reprimand the young girl, but Emma smiles at her, shaking her head, and she continues with her work instead. Stopping in her tracks, Emma drops into a squat, eye to eye with the young girl.
"Sweetie, did you ever have a night where, no matter how hard you tried, you just couldn't get to sleep?"
"Yes! That's when I go read from my storybook until I can't keep my eyes open!"
Emma can't help but smile at her enthusiasm. "Well, when I can't sleep, I do what my mother taught me to do, and go for a walk in the woods."
"The Queen liked to spend time in the woods?"
"Oh, sweetie, the Queen loved to spend time in the woods more than anything in the world, except maybe the King. So that's where I go to feel close to her."
"And she helps you sleep?"
"She usually does, yes."
Maddie takes a step back, away from Emma, and smiles tp at her as she stands up straight. "My mother makes me feel better, too. I'm sure you'll make a beautiful bride."
"Thank you, my dear, Have fun helping your mother."
"I will!" Maddie calls behind her as she pushes through the kitchen door and out into the cool night air.
The walk down to the docks is quick, and she doesn't waste time wandering through the woods, as she would on a normal night. Doing her best to not draw attention to herself, she moves along the dock, taking in all of her options: fishing ships, some she recognizes and some she does not, not the right choice for right now, since many of them return to this same port at the end of the day; merchant ships, many sponsored by her father - and a bad choice for that very reason, for if he called the realm to search for her, they would be the first to give her up for a shining reward; naval ships, an even worse choice for the same reason.
But there's another ship, docked all by itself, away from the other vessels, that catches her eye, just as she thinks she is out of luck - and, much to her surprise, it seems to be getting ready to make sail, which is odd both because of the hour and the fact that the Royal wedding is the next day.
She sets her mind on it, making her way down the dock towards it, and walks up towards a man loading crates onto it.
"Excuse me, sir," she says in her calmest and most down-to-earth voice. "I would like to have a word with your captain."
The man sneers up at her, but he must recognize her, for his sneer disappears almost immediately. "Your highness," he breathes, and begins to bow, but she places her hand on his shoulder before he can do so, holding out a gold coin with the other.
"Please, none of that. I just need to have a word with the captain."
"Yes, of course, ma'am. Wait - wait here, please." He stutters, then turns towards the ship and practically runs away from her.
Emma tries her best to stay inconspicuous, and she only catches the eyes of a few townspeople - hopefully, she thinks, no one that would cause alarm. After what seems like too long, she finally hears footsteps on the dock from the ship, and turns towards them to see the man she spoke to leading a tall, dark figure towards her. Although everything else has changed, she still recognizes his face, somehow so similar to the young man from all those years ago, the young captain who was the central figure to her schoolgirl crushes.
"Captain Jones," she says, half-statement-half-question, just as he says, "Princess," in the same tone.
"No one has called me that in a few years," he replies, so much pain burning behind his blazing blue eyes.
"And I'm hoping no one will call me that for a while," she snaps back, "I need passage, and I need it tonight. I will pay you, and I will pay you well, as long as you get me away from here, no questions asked."
He looks her over for a few moments, taking it all in, from her simple coat over her common clothing, to her riding boots, to the bag hanging over her shoulder.
"You're running away," he comments, trying to read her bright green eyes but getting nothing.
"I said no questions, captain. Will you take me or not?"
They hold eye contact for another few moments, each trying to see into the soul of the other, but failing.
"It wasn't a question, it was simply an observation, but aye, I'll take you."
After another moment, he breaks eye contact and steps to the side, sweeping his hand in front of him. "Welcome to the Jolly Roger, lass."