I apologize for the delay in this chapter. I had it and the next couple written, but a power outage damaged the file for this one and it had to be rewritten. It didn't turn out quite the same, but I hope you still like it.

It had not taken long to get Leo to agree to go to sleep once Red had told him that staying on the straw mattresses would be much like camping. Emma would be surprised if he hadn't pulled one out under the stars to enhance the experience. Though she was used to much more plush accommodations herself, she had brushed off the attempts of both women that she could have their beds, repeating what her mother had told her that she was not there as a guest and wouldn't think of putting them out in that way.

Though sleep had come easily for her baby brother, Emma found herself a bit more restless and walked outside into the chilly night air. While the calendar clearly called for spring, there was a coolness once the sun went down that seemed to invigorate the young princess. So that is where Red found her, standing at the newly repaired fence and staring at a moonlit field.

"It's okay to miss them," Red said from behind, startling her. "I'm your mother's age and I miss my mother desperately. I even miss Granny when she is at work for long hours and I'm here or vice versa."

That was a strong confession from a woman who Emma considered the most fearless and resilient of all her mother's friends. "I was just thinking," Emma said, confessing herself that it was not her parents who were on her mind.

"Baelfire?"

The blonde whipped her head around to face the other woman, her thick braid of hair flying with her. "No," she said almost desperately. "He's not returning. I can't…"

Undeterred, Red took her spot beside Emma, not looking at her but at the same pasture. She even mimicked the way the young princess stood, placing both hands on the rough wood of the fence. "Granny said you were a bit shaken by some of the people's opinions about your mother and father. That must have been hard too."

"Granny shouldn't work so hard," Emma said, clearly changing the subject. "She looks weak."

Red's lips pursed together as she tugged on the velvety soft hood of her cape that Granny had made her. "She was sick a few weeks ago, bedridden and barely breathing at times. I truly thought I might lose her. She's recovered, but it isn't the same. I can see it in her, but she's convinced if she rests too long that she will succumb to her fate. Maybe she thinks she can outrun death."

"How can I help?" Emma asked. "I know that my parents sent me here so that you might watch after me and Leo. They…they don't fully trust me after everything. I understand that."

"They do trust you, Emma," the woman said with a sharp edge to her usually tender voice. "Coming here isn't your punishment or banishment. To hear your mother tell it, you've pretty much banished yourself. Why? Because you fell in love with a man who wasn't what they wanted for you? Because you tried to make a life for him when everyone could tell you that it would end in pain? Or because you chose to believe in love beyond all that?"

Emma was silent, a wet tear traced down her face and glistened in the moonlight, but she made not effort to swipe at it or to explain it away. Red had already said more than either of her parents of her time with Baelfire. Incorrect or not, it felt strange to lose the cloak that hid that part of her life.

"When you mother met you father, I can assure you that nobody thought that was a good match or idea. Your father was betrothed to another. Your mother on the run from her step-mother. Who would think that to be a perfect pairing?" The brunette's eyes were fiery and seemed to glow as she spoke. Emma wasn't sure if it was the reflection of the moon or some deep magic.

"What I had with Baelfire wasn't the same as that," she said sadly.

"No, it wasn't, but I don't think you should be ashamed of it. You loved him. And from that…"

"From that, I made a horrible mistake and I'm being punished for that for the rest of my life." Emma grimaced at her forthright confession. She had tried not to think of it that way. Falling in love was supposed to be – if not easy, at least natural. However, that was the last thing she would ever describe her relationship with Baelfire as being. He was the son of the Dark One, a former Lost Boy, and a what had seemed at the time to be a charming and fascinating man. While he had been long before even her grandparents, his time in Neverland had stymied his growth and he had appeared only a few years older than her.

When he had come to her one night, climbing through her window with panic in his demeanor, he had begged her to run away with him to a land without magic or the threat of his father. She had agreed to go, pushing down the guilt over the idea of leaving her family and her kingdom. However, when she arrived at their meeting place, he was no where to be found. A few weeks later she had learned she was with child, a great scandal had the news gone public.

"I would hope that you would find some comfort staying with us and not view it as a punishment," Red said. "I know your parents don't mean it that way."

"How could they not?" Emma asked, suddenly incredulous to the idea that this was not some sort of reparation. "If the people of the kingdom knew, it could have destroyed everything. My parents would not have been able to rule. The whole family would have been scandalized."

Red knew from her talks with Snow that Emma was not likely accept affection. Her inward turning personality had become such that she was reluctant to hug or even touch. It seemed a shame, the woman thought, as Emma had been a loving child who snuggled on her father's lap for a story and held tight to her mother's hand when she was feeling shy. That wasn't often though, Emma had been talkative and creative, a sweet and good natured child who never met a stranger. Now she seemed timid and almost as a fawn in the morning light. "But it didn't turn out that way. You didn't do anything…"

"I did," Emma said, her temper showing through a bit. "And I worry each day that it will catch up with me."

Not able to resist the urge, Red patted the younger woman's arm soothingly. "You have nothing to fear here. People don't know you. The last time you were here, you were only 13. Nobody will recognize you from that. You can be whomever you wish to be."

***AAA***

"Captain?" Smee called through the partially open door. Having served with Killian for more than a few lifetimes, the man knew better than to barge in without warning. First, Captain Hook had a terrible temper and was likely to bite his head off at the instruction. Secondly, it was likely that the man was not alone. Smee could guess that the granddaughter of the innkeeper might be in there. Though a tad older than his usual type, the Captain did have a penchant for brunettes, especially saucy ones with mouths on them. However, she had not been in that day. Or it could be the barmaid with the lighter brown hair and amazing eyes. Or perhaps…Smee paused realizing the list could be endless.

"Enter," Killian called out without too much of a delay. He was alone, the linens he had worn that day in the rain hanging over a chair near the fire. The deluge of water seemed to be letting up, but still the damp chill in the air was evident as were the droplets of water that dripped from his head and onto the blanket he had covered himself with for company.

"You're alone, sir," the man said in confusion at the bed that was unusually empty on one side.

"Aye, and did that need to be brought to my attention?"

"No sir," the shorter man stammered. "I only meant that…I'm glad I didn't…"

"Out with it," Killian glanced toward the window at the lamplit street as a woman hurried through the rain to one of the buildings. She seemed soaked and cold with her arms wrapped tightly around herself to ward off the wind that always seemed to blow sharply off the water. For a moment the woman's blonde hair reminded him of Emma, but he shook off the feeling as he could count the differences. This woman was a bit thinner, her nose wider, her chin without the small indentation as far as he could see. Emma's hair was thicker and brighter – even when wet.

"The sails, sir," Smee began, the nervous weight shift a trademark of his machinations when giving bad news. "The seamstress who made the last set was a bit under the weather."

"So find another," Killian said, his eyes rolling upward with frustration. He was a hands on captain, but there was no need for this level of detail. "She can't be the only person capable of such a task."

"The sails are not normal ones," Smee reminded him, biting his lip in the process. "Your brother procured the first ones, but we've tried to…"

The remnants of the memory of his brother's excited voice telling him of the Pegasus wings echoed in his head. The curly haired and kind eyed man who had raised him was dancing through this thoughts, reminding him of such words like honor and service. "I'm aware of their rarity," he said with as firm a voice as he could muster. "But surely there must be someone else who can do the job."

"They have to be enchanted with a spell," Smee explained, sounding apologetic for this predicament despite his not actually being responsible. "I am trying to find another enchantress who might…"

"Her condition is not improving?" Killian asked, unsure as to why this was such a big deal. The woman was sick. She could be better soon and they would be on their way. It was a simple fix.

"Alas she is with child," Smee confided. "It seems to have curtailed her abilities a bit."

The reaction from Killian was to almost jump with the surprise of that as the issue at hand. He had not even considered that to be a problem. "Very well," he said, thinking through the situation. "I would rather not reveal this information. Perhaps we should stay on until we find a good enough enchantress. There must be someone."

***AAA***

Red dropped a few pieces of bread, a ball of the freshly churned butter, and a sweet tea cake into the soft napkin and tied up the sides carefully. Granny had already left for the day, insisting that any dizziness she felt was nothing to be excited about. She had trudged down that now familiar path, having given Red instructions for preparing a plot of ground for the garden. Seeds would have to be planted soon, before the next new moon. And that meant plenty of work around the cabin.

"Are you sure he won't be under foot?" Emma asked as she emerged from the bedroom for the second time that morning. "I don't know what I can do, but I do want to help."

"You'll be more help to me by keeping an eye on Granny. She's already left. You can go and help out at the inn today. That's where we need you. And Leo is no bother. He'll be fine." Red dropped the bundle in front of the blonde woman and reached out to help her finish her hair. Originally, Emma had emerged from the room in a soft lavender gown. While it was not fancy by any means, it was too delicate for a woman to wear to work in an inn. Red had replaced the dress with one of her own, still soft and lovely with a pattern of faded blue forget-me-nots and simple buttons up the bodice.

"There's an apron you can borrow by the door," Red continued, critically evaluating the dress on the young princess's form. "And you should probably do something about your hair. It's beautiful but not really what someone working at the inn would wear."

Emma had twisted her hair into braids that were wound intricately onto her head like thick blonde crown. Red helped her unwind it and reposition the tresses as a single braid down her back. Proclaiming it suitable, the dark haired beauty kissed her friend's daughter on the cheek. "You don't have to do this."

Emma pulled her hair over one shoulder and grabbed the napkin bundle of food. "If I'm not here out of some punishment, then I am here to be of assistance to you and Granny. The least I can do is run a few errands and sweep a few floors. It's not an inconvenience."

"I suppose it is a good thing that nobody knows your identity here," Red mused, a hand on her hip. "It would be a spectacle to have a crown princess serving pints."

***AAA***

Emma wasn't sure why the barmaid seemed to have taken a disliking to her, but the woman did not like her at all. Maybe it was the fact that they were the same age but had different lives. The woman was unmarried like Emma but had moved from her mother to make her fortune any way that she could. She had limp and dirty looking brown hair with hazel eyes that seemed almost yellow in certain lights. Other than saying her name was Lily, the woman had given her no details about herself.

"When you're done with these you can start on the potatoes," the woman had sneered, barely bothering to look at her.

Granny had disappeared down to the butcher shop about the same time that Emma had arrived. The proprietress, well aware of the purpose of Emma being there, had told her to help the barmaid out and that they would talk later. So Emma was assigned to wash the glasses before the pub got busy. Once finished, she was pointed toward the largest pile of potatoes that she had ever seen, even bigger than the ones delivered for large dinners at the palace.

Granny had lit the fire in the oven that morning and placed in it cast iron pans with various fish to be baked and smoked for storage. The stench was overwhelming to the princess, but Lily seemed to find that fact amusing. The door to the kitchen from the outside was propped open as was the front door to create a bit of ventilation. Usually a frayed and once heavy brocade hung between the kitchen the dining area of the pub, but Granny had pulled it back to dissipate the scent of the fish.

"Don't make a face like that for too long, love," Killian said, startling her from her monotonous rhythm of peeling the potatoes. "It might freeze that way. And that, my dear, would be a shame on a face so beautiful as yours."

She might not have planned to encourage him, but Emma couldn't resist the smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth at his playful attention. "I didn't hear you come in," she spluttered as though having taken on water. "I didn't realize you are staying here?"

"Aye, a few more nights at least," he said gesturing to the chair across from hers to ask permission. She gave a nod and he practically dove for it. Careful to keep his left arm below the table, he leaned forward a bit. "So what has you so offended? I swear I did bathe today, had the water brought in by the barmaid and everything."

"It's the fish," she said with a tiny roll of her eyes. "I'm not used to the scent." Again her nose wrinkled with distaste. She had eaten seafood before, but she'd never been in the kitchen for its preparation so the scent was overwhelming.

"An acquired taste, no doubt," Killian answered. "I'm surprised you aren't used to it by now. Fishing village and all."

Emma flushed, Red's instructions that the fewer people who knew of her upbringing and heritage the better. She was poor at lying, though she could certainly detect the less than truthful nature in others. "I suppose it is just stronger than I am used to and being in here has me a bit lightheaded from it."

His usually flirtatious and charming appearance melted into something more akin to concern. "Do you think perhaps that Granny might allow me to take you for a walk? Just to allow you to clear your head."

Baelfire had been the last man who had accompanied her on a walk around the palace grounds, telling her of his plans for the future. She could hear his voice speaking to her, the way her arm had felt linked through his. She could not even imagine such a feeling with anyone else. "I don't think that is necessary," she said.

Obviously a bit wounded by the second rejection, he looked about the square kitchen space. "I am happy to help, Emma. Is there anything I could…"

"You aren't obligated," she told him, abandoning her knife to retrieve another of the buckets of water. "I have work to do and surely you have tasks too." She was giving him an out, which probably would have been easier since he wouldn't have any trouble finding someone else to occupy his time.

"I was hoping to find some way to work myself into the Widow Lucas's good graces," he proclaimed, dropping the potatoes one by one into the water to wash them. His handless arms braced the wooden bucket from the other side so as to hide the missing appendage. Normally he felt pride in his hook, but he doubted that Emma would feel the same. "She has been pushing for me to leave the premises."

Emma had just lifted the knife. "What did you do to incur her wrath?" Emma asked, then flinched. "I'm sorry. Was that too much to ask?"

He chuckled at the pinkness to her cheeks that signaled her embarrassment. She was clearly more spirited that she was attempting to let on, yet she realized the rules of propriety and manners quite well. Not a man who was easily offended, he was more amused by her curiosity than insulted by it. "She had made some statement about the royal family coming and perhaps needing rooms with their no lack of staff and guards."

Had the bucket not shifted and his balance of it not been in jeopardy, he might have taken note that her pink cheeks faded quickly to a ghostly white. "I believe the king and queen have already departed."

"Aye, that's the word I hear too. Took with them a village of drivers, soldiers, and maids to go to whatever holiday spot they picked. Luckily they didn't stay here long, as I am not a fan of such excess myself. It always seems to be used to cover inadequacies of some type." His gentle and teasing smile that he had worn while talking to her earlier was replaced with a sneering contortion that did cause her to pause.

She wasn't sure what to say to him, as he would surely leave if she revealed her identity at that point. It would be easy to get rid of him, she told herself, easy to push him aside. He'd go about his business and she'd finish hers. In a few days or weeks her parents would return for her and she could go back to a life where she only saw the good in them and could forget the harsher remarks of their nature and their rule. But for some unnamed reason, she found herself dreading his departure. "So you must have grown up in this village or one like it to not have my same sensitivity for the smell of fish?"

There was not startled reaction from him for the change in subject. "Not too far from here by ship," he agreed. "I've spent most of my life on the water, traveling here and there."

Emma was grateful that some of that softness had returned to his voice. "I would imagine that such travels have been filled with adventure."

Her eyes did not lift from the careful move of her knife over the potatoes, but he could make out the genuine interest in her voice and the way her eyelids seemed to flutter downward. His tongue darted out over his lips as he considered her statement as more of a question. "I could entertain you with a few remembrances of them, if you should like. It might make the task go faster."

Trying not to look too eager, she nodded her head and listened readily as he spoke of a few of voyages. He was being careful not to tell her of the scarier moments, the battles between pirates or daring escapes from the royal navy. He limited his more salacious tales, but still sprinkled in a few about treasure and mythical things that Emma had never thought truly existed. While the stories seemed unending, she found some comfort in the cadence of his voice and the timbre of the inflection. He was a master at it, keeping to his promise to make the work fly by with rapid speed. She felt both relief and disappointment as the last of the potatoes went into a pot to boil.

Almost as if she had been watching for the moment Emma was free for another task, Lily swooped in to instruct Emma to provide fresh linens to a few of the rooms that were now vacated upstairs just as soon as the last peeling was removed from the table. "I hope I did not bore you with my tales," he said, his eyes twinkling in an unasked question.

"Not at all…" She hesitated, wiping her wet hands on the apron.

"Killian," he supplied, amused that she might not know his name after two meetings.

Her eyes widened as he repeated his name, a laugh tickling her throat to be let out. Yet she swallowed it back. "I know your name, Killian," she said, the pink blush returning even deeper. "I'm just not accustomed to being that familiar with people as to call them by their given names. It takes some getting used to." In her world titles had replaced the names that parents had lovingly bestowed upon their children. She hardly even recognized her own first name any longer other than her parents and their closest friends calling her that.

"Would you rather we call each other by something else then?" His brow furrowed a bit. "I'm not sure I learned your family name? Are you a Lucas as well? Or perhaps…"

It would have been so easy to tell him that he need not address her as anything. She could have simply walked away and never addressed him as anything other than a guest at the inn. "Emma is fine," she said reluctantly.

"Then I should be glad to have you call me Killian," he said just as softly as she had her own name. "I quite like the way you say it."

***AAA***

Emma had been unmistakably busy for the majority of the afternoon. Each time Killian returned from his tasks at the blacksmiths or with some of the suppliers, he found the blonde woman whisked off to perform some other duty. While did not complain for them, he could see the almost insecurity in her movements. She had clearly not been working there long, as a more seasoned employee would not wear the terrified expression he sometimes saw on her face.

Sitting on the bench outside the front door of the inn, he had seen her dash out for a bucket of water, waving off his offer to help her. Still he had appreciated the smile of gratitude she gave him. Watching her hoist the heavy load in her hands, he was again impressed by her fortitude both emotionally and physically. He was still reluctant to show his true nature around her though, as he wasn't sure how she would react to his more unseemly ways.

"I thought I had told you to be gone," Granny told him when she had returned from her own trip to the local suppliers. She had dumped the food she had bought into the kitchen and came outside to catch her breath. The woman had her glasses back on and was peering over the rims of them at him. "And what happened to your clothes."

"I thought your eviction was cancelled given that the royal entourage has departed," he said, his voice and demeanor lazy. "You don't seem to have so many tenants that you can afford to send us all away."

Her mouth drew in as though she had eaten something sour, but she did not respond to his comment. Instead, she watched his eyes travel through the open door to Emma who was lighting candles at the tables for the evening service. "She's a good girl, too good for the likes of you."

He did not bother to act as though he didn't know what they were talking about. "I only aimed to help her," he said, still watching her. "She seemed a bit overwhelmed."

Granny's breathing had not evened out and her skin's pallor was not altogether healthy, but she still made herself appear formidable. "That's not your concern."

He nodded his head. "I realize that, but still I am…"

Rocking back on her heels, she looked back to Emma who was covertly stealing her own glances at Killian as she lit the candles one by one. Even in their dim glow, Granny could make out the twitching at the young princess's lips that was clearly a reaction more to the pirate than the work she was doing. The woman had seen it before, but the concept worried her that Emma might enjoy the man's attentions. Turning her focus back to Killian, she bent at the waist and pinched a bit of the light colored fabric with her finger and thumb. "She the reason you're dressed this way?"

It still startled him to look down and not be greeted by the black leather and fabrics that had made his wardrobe for centuries. He wasn't sure if he could explain it, other than he felt his lighter attire might make her more comfortable to talk to him. "I…"

"You're lying to her," Granny said firmly. "Not a great start, Captain." Her expression did not reveal that she knew Emma was lying too.

"I only meant not to scare her," he said. "I haven't always been a pirate."

***AAA***

Granny had not been eager to accept Emma's help; but true to the instructions that Red had given her, Emma had jumped into any task that needed completing. By the end of the evening she had earned a thank you from the older woman and even a genuine smile from Lily.

"You're not as good as Red," Lily said as she placed two drinks on a tray. "But you're more efficient. She tends to linger at the tables with the more attractive men."

Emma had taken that as a compliment and thanked the woman through a tight mouth. Everything on her felt tight as she tied her cape at her neck and listened to Granny's stern warning to keep to the path and not dally in the woods on the way back to the cabin. "I think I'm going to stay here for the night and not make the trek myself. You'll be fine?"

Reassuring the older woman, she had denied her own tiredness and said she was eager to see her little brother after so many hours away from him. But internally she was wondering if she had the strength to battle the pain in her muscles to make the long walk back to that wooded home. Her steps were already slow and labored and she was only three buildings away from the inn when she heard the steady clomp of a shoed horse behind her. Resisting the urge to groan at the added task of moving out of the way, she turned her head slightly and jumped at the sight.

"I thought you might be tired after your day," Killian said, his hand on the reigns of the horse. "I wanted to offer you a horse to ride back to your boy."

The horse was far from a thoroughbred, its age showing and its gait sagging a bit. Still she could not help but sigh in relief at the idea of sitting atop the mare instead of walking. However, it seemed too much for Killian to offer such an animal. He must have noticed her reluctance.

"The livery owner was about to put her out for the evening and was complaining she had not been properly exercised. I thought I might do him a favor and you one as well." He stood there in front of her, his stance casual and his left arm behind him. "You have ridden before, haven't you?"

She tried not to laugh, as her riding lessons had started practically as soon as she could walk. Her mother had been a champion rider and jumper, but her own awards had come in the form of dressage competitions. Somewhere in the palace was a wall of ribbons and medals that the two women had won in their youths. "I certainly have," she said, hesitating for a moment before lifting herself onto the saddle. The staff at the palace was always telling her to ride side saddle, though her mother had encouraged her to ride astride for better control. She wondered briefly which of the two styles would be more akin to someone not of royal upbringing. However, she quickly decided to follow her mother's lead and threw her leg over the horse's back.

Killian raised a quick eyebrow at her decision, but said nothing and did not hand her the reigns. She let her mouth gape for a moment as he clicked his tongue and led her on horseback through the edges of town toward the path. "She's in my care," he explained. "I can hardly let you take off on her without me. Besides how would I get her back tonight?"

She looked down at him, prepared to lecture him on how she did not need a companion to find her way back to the Lucas cabin. However, she resisted. "I think you have tricked me, Killian. You used my fatigue and this horse as a way to spend time with me."

***AAA***

They talked some on the way back, Emma learning that Killian was well read and could carry a tune as they spoke of music. She had to bite back a few too many responses about her tutoring and lessons, but he did not seem to notice the holes in her responses to him. It was a short trek and when she slid down from the horse's back she smiled brightly at him as though the ride had rejuvenated her as much as the night's sleep would surely do.

"You were very kind to think of me," she said, patting the flank of the horse with the palm of her hand. She could not remember the last time she had been out or been riding without her gloves, but the sensation of being able to feel anything without the layers of something simple like gloves was a welcome change. "I don't know how I might return the favor."

"Your company and conversation are payment enough, love," he said, his hand still tight on the reigns. "But I would not be opposed to a chance to see you again."

"I'm afraid my schedule…"

"Perhaps I could come here tomorrow to walk you to your work." He shifted his weight and appeared as nervous as a schoolboy would in a similar situation.

Red emerged from the house at that time, her own cloak tight around her and her stride quick as she approached them. "Leo's in bed, but he's waiting up for you, Emma," she said, nodding to Killian in recognition. "You should go see him so he'll finally go to sleep."

"Of course," Emma said. "I've missed him today."

Red looked from one to the other, her head lifting a bit as though she was trying to breath in a clue as to what she was witnesses. Slowly she turned and headed back to the house, her demeanor not so sure that she was being followed by Emma.

"You don't have to do that, you know," Emma said, giving the horse a final pat as she backed away from Killian. Her other hand gripped the tie from her cape at the base of her neck. "I am not so delicate that I might find it unsettling."

"Pardon?" he asked, not sure what she meant.

"Your hand," she answered. "You have hidden your left arm from me all day. I am not blind, Killian. I realize you are missing your hand. Perhaps you can tell me about that tomorrow when you come to walk with me."

Thank you for all the likes, follows, favorites, kudos, and comments. It really does help the confidence in posting my stories.