The palace was a beautiful but usually desolate place with wings that were not used and rooms that were dusted for nobody. With Regina and her family staying there, Granny and Red taking up another two rooms, the expectation of Elsa arriving, the dwarfs coming in and out, Graham camping out in one of the libraries, and word coming to expect more family friends, the palace no longer seemed as large.

"I'm surprised to find you alone," David told his daughter when he saw her attempting to fill a mug with water. The princess was leaned forward, her lavender dress pressed against the wood of the desk. Her eyes were shut tight and her lips barely parted as she concentrated. "I assumed Regina or Blue to be with you."

"Blue had to attend to other matters," Emma explained, staring in frustration at the empty mug that did not contain so much as a drop. "And Regina is not much of an encouragement." She frowned, still not sure how she should refer to the woman. For several years Regina had been the only mother figure in Snow's life. But so much had happened, so many bridges burned. Emma supposed she should take her cues from her parents.

"Encouragement is not truly a trait that Regina embodies," the King said with a sardonic laugh. "But she might have some good advice for you, nonetheless."

Emma nodded, folding her hands in her lap. "Was there something you wanted to see me about?"

David's face softened as he walked past his daughter to the window and peered down on the gardens below. It had not been such a long time ago that he would have tended gardens not half as beautiful, but now he was expected to rule over a land with his wife by his side. He'd had no guidance for such a task other than his wife so there was an understanding in him at Emma's reluctance to fully embrace her magic. It had to be scary to consider.

"When I learned of Rumpelstiltskin's plan to take Henry, I must say that I was wary. But I do know what it is like to have a child threatened in such a manner."

Emma nodded, her father's fear having been evident even in her early life. "I'm glad to help, Papa," she said, using her childhood name for him. "I wouldn't want Henry to suffer."

The man sighed a bit raggedly, his shoulders squared as he watched his daughter try to read him. "You're good at that, you know? Reading people. You have always seen through the lies that people tell."

"You've never lied to me," Emma reminded him. "So I don't worry about you."

"But I must ask you if you sense Regina is lying? I worry that perhaps we are being too quick to trust her." David was not used to asking his daughter what she thought, as he still in many ways viewed her as the child who had followed him around begging to be included. "She seems changed, but I don't want to be wrong about this."

The lines between Emma's eyebrows deepened as she considered this. "I don't remember her before this," she admitted. "I remember talk of her and the worry and the fear. I remember you teaching me about the passage ways and Mother telling me that you both would find me no matter what occurred. I remember the alarm bells at night and the fear that she might find a way to harm us all."

The King crossed the room to his daughter, placing a hand on her shoulder. "You should not have had your childhood marred by that. You shouldn't have had to fear her or anything. I failed you in that way. I didn't protect you from it all."

"No, you did protect me. You kept me here with you. You watched over me and slayed each demon and dragon that threatened us."

"Not each," her father said sadly. "I did not save you from the Dark One's son. And now I may have invited the enemy within our home. I'm asking my only daughter to defend her kingdom because I am not able to do so. I am not pleased with the man I am becoming in all this."

Emma placed a hand over her father's. "You did not fail me," she said firmly. "And I must learn to not fail you." She closed her eyes again, thinking of the water that had fallen from the sky the day that she had met Killian. Instead of imagining the mug in front of her, she pictured the blue of his eyes and way that the drops of rain had streaked down his face.

Before she even opened her eyes, she heard her father gasp and then laugh. "You have changed," he said. "You are becoming quite adept at that."

"It isn't enough," Emma reminded him. "I cannot defeat the darkest of magic with water."

"Perhaps not, but you are opening yourself up to your magic. And that is not something your mother nor I can do. Our aim is not for you to challenge this man to a magical duel. This battle will be one where we must use our wits as much as our swords." He dipped a finger into the water and lifted to inspect as though he couldn't believe it was truly water. "Remarkable."

***AAA***

Two weeks had passed since he had last seen Emma, but that did not mean that Killian was sitting and doing nothing. Her messages came nearly daily, usually laced with sweet messages and daily routine that neither soothed his worry nor added to it. She said nothing of the danger she was in, leaving him both clueless and helpless in the greater scheme of things. He followed them up with messages that were a combination of observations of the sea, stories from his own past life, or answers to her questions.

He went through the motions of his daily life, but he found himself distracted and thinking of new things to say to her. He wondered about her life, wondered if she was happy or just doing what was expected. He hoped it was the former, as her happiness was key to anyone who might care a thing about her.

Climbing to the top deck, the pirate sighed as he walked toward the stern of his ship. The clanking of swords and scent of burning wood assaulted Killian's senses as he boarded the opposing ship, stepping over discarded plunder and watching his men do what they did best. Usually he was right along with them, joining forces against an enemy. But he seemed a bit lazy as he drew himself into the skirmish just as the last of the men on the ship were surrendering.

"Captain," Smee called out, his eyes wild with the anticipation of counting that ship's haul. "We've secured the lower decks. This should be quick work as we predicted."

Killian nodded, telling the man that they had done fine work. It was the third ship that they had taken over in as many days. His men were regaining that fire in their eyes and his own steps were a bit livelier. Still it felt as though he was going through the motions. Each ship a nameless entity, he counted his treasury growing and ignored the ache inside that he was somehow letting Emma down by not being by her side in whatever the trouble was in Mist Haven.

They two of them had exchanged letters daily, the bird finding him no matter how far from shore. Its yellow feathers stood out from the white and gray of the gulls. "Carry the chest and the safe aboard. Any powder too, as the Jolly Roger is running low on that supply."

"Aye," Smee answered, pointing one of the younger men in the direction of the errands and telling the others to follow. They did so easily as a few finished off taking control of the smattering of crew left. "I thought you might like to inspect the captain's quarters yourself."

Offering a genuine smile to the man, Killian descended down to the more opulent design of the room for the ship's leader. Darker wood than his own, Killian wrinkled his nose at the ornate golden sea creatures both real and mythical that seemed far too large for the small space. He had a few such ornaments of his own, but they were carved of wood and did not take up so much space. Smee was right that no man had entered the room, the neatness almost unnerving as though the owner had merely stepped away for a moment with no knowledge about his fate.

The ship had been that of a privateer, apparently a successful one if Killian was judging right by the decorations. Thick leather bound books lined shelves with titles that were both familiar and unknown to him. Trinkets in the form of art were displayed on many of the walls and surfaces. However, it was the portrait over the desk that drew his attention. A woman with golden hair had been painted holding an infant in her arms and a toddler at her side with his head upon his mother's shoulder. Obviously the man's family, Killian reasoned by the location of the portrait and its prominence. It was lovely, but a bit out of place among the room's other finery. The woman and toddler were dressed in clothes of that time and realm, which Killian knew was confirmation that this was not the man's mother but his contemporary and probably his wife.

The man was sitting on deck with his hands and feet tied so that escape would not be a possibility. One of the pirates was watching him, probably with the pointed end of a blade at him. And somewhere, Killian realized, were this man's wife and children. He staggered a bit whether from the roughness of the waters or the incidental force of the two ships colliding in their closeness. He was not a man who usually thought of such things, never considering the family of the men he met in battle. He judged that this woman was pretty, not as beautiful as Emma, but a soft a pretty woman. Was she waiting for her husband, caring for their children as he sailed the seas? Did she miss him?

Sentimentality was not usually found with any of the men in Killian's path, but he had wondered about it. He carried a hair ribbon in his pocket and a pendant for when he might see her again, though he had a right to place it around her neck.

His mind wandered a bit, imagining such a life himself. What if Emma had been a young widowed mother like he had assumed. What if she wasn't of royal blood? Would he have had it in him to make her a part of his life, to become a part of hers? What if he were still a lieutenant in the navy rather than a pirate? Would he have gone to her father for permission to court her? Yes, he would have been beneath her station even with the commission and accolades he would have earned over the years. But perhaps it could have come to pass, as a lieutenant seemed a more palpable companion for a princess than a pirate.

"Sir?" The voice that came from the door way was breathless either from the exertion of the take over or the excitement of it. "There is a…"

Killian tore his eyes from the portrait and stared harshly at the man there in the doorway. Sable or Sanal or something that like, the boy barely looked old enough to have facial hair. He was probably the youngest member of Killian's crew, having come aboard after a game of dice where he had lost his parents' cow and two horses to the bar owner. Killian had felt sorry for the lad and offered him quarter so as to avoid a messy scene at home. "What is it you are trying to say, lad? It isn't as bad as all that?"

"There's a bird. A yellow one. It is sitting upon the railing and has Mr. Smee quite uneasy." There were plenty of superstitions about such things, but it never ceased to amuse Killian at his first mate's utter fascination with them.

"I shall see to it," Killian said, casting another glance at the cabin. "While I'm at it, see that this room is left as it is. No other should cross its threshold."

"Sir?"

"No other," the Captain repeated. "And see that the man who slept here is brought to me in an hour. I wish to have a word with him."

"But sir, we are transporting them to the brig…"

"Then bring him to me first or after. I don't care which. I need to see him."

***AAA***

The clanging of the swords echoed loudly as Emma sparred with the King. Her form was near perfection and her arms extended into the perfect angle as she brushed his protected chest with the tip of the weapon. Her dour expression of concentration broke into a smile as she heard Red and her mother cheer out for her, congratulating her on a bold move.

"If the fight with the Dark One was a fencing match, I'd say we had nothing to worry about," David said, sheathing his sword and pulling his daughter into his side. "You are a natural, my dear."

"She's better with a bow and arrow," the Queen mused, not missing the pointed look from her daughter. "But there is nothing wrong at being proficient with both. I have done that myself."

Red hopped down from the fence and joined the royal family as they moved into the main hall of the castle. "Granny would argue the crossbow is far more accurate, but I'm of the opinion that Emma can intimidate anyone with her strength and cunning."

Blushing and shaking her head at the flattery, Emma looked up toward the balcony that split the rooms of the wing she had grown up in for all those years. Leo, Henry, and Roland were out there with Granny, the older woman showing them something in the distance. Just as she had been, they were rapt with attention. She could remember the woman telling her about woodland creatures in a much more practical way than her mother who would speak of them as beautiful examples of God's work or as Graham had in terms of meat and prey. Granny spoke of them in terms of checking a squirrel's coat to see what the upcoming winter would be like or if a storm was coming by how low to the ground a bird flew. Part of her wished she could run up there and be a part of the lesson again, but she knew she couldn't.

"Have you heard from Elsa?" her mother asked. "I did believe she would be here by now."

Emma had received messages from Elsa each day, messages that were filled with hope and suggestions about her magic. "She is awaiting the waters to be cleared of ice around her kingdom before she sets sail." Elsa was a queen now, ever since her parents' death left the crown to her. She was an introverted person with good intentions and a royal demeanor that suited the position. Like Emma she had been born with magic that had threatened to destroy what she loved, but she had finally embraced it with that same gentleness that made her both a wonderful woman and queen.

"I know that the Blue Fairy has helped, but I can't help but think that Elsa's presence would be of great assistance too," the Queen said as she fell in line next to her husband and reached her hand out to grasp his. In the days that had passed since Regina and Robin's arrival, the Blue Fairy had come and gone, leaving Emma with instructions and exercises that felt much like her studies as a child.

"It would," Emma agreed quietly. "It will be. We just have to get her here safely. I don't feel it is my place to insist that she come here by ship in treacherous conditions when her parents died that way."

Red gave a sidelong glance at her goddaughter, her hands on her narrow hips. "You could contact the Captain," she told her. "He's by far the best at navigating those types of waters and his ship is the fastest according to everyone who knows that sort of thing."

"I don't wish to disturb him," Emma said, not adding that she had written such letters three times already and then discarded them. She was certain that he would come to her aid, probably touting his resume of similar missions as he did it. However, she was not sure she wanted to include him in this. While no one would admit to her, other than Regina, just how dangerous this all was and could be, Emma knew that she could be walking into a trap.

Her father stayed silent, still not having been brought up to speed on any man spending time with his only daughter. It was not for lack of trying, as he had questioned and Emma had given a series of vague answers that seemed all too worrisome to him. Leo had not been much help either, as the boy could not quite explain what he meant when it came to this man whom his daughter seemed at least interested in as more than an acquaintance. "If it is a naval vessel she's needing, I have several at my disposal."

Red looked affronted by the suggestion, but less so than Emma who was clearly not having it. "He's a fine Captain," Emma mumbled. "If she can't find a way soon, I'll contact him." She hoped that would be enough to assuage her mother's friend.

Emma's mother ignored the looks between Red and her daughter. "I have been thinking," she announced. "Perhaps we should attempt to draw the Dark One out. I know that he has said he will come for Henry, but if we draw him out then we could certainly take him by surprise."

"Is that not the point of finding him and his castle, darling?" David said. "If we take the fight to him, then the element of surprise is on our side."

***AAA***

He told himself not to read her letter until after he spoke to the captain of the other ship, not wanting to rush through it or mar it with the strategy of this conference. However, it practically sung to him, held out hope for him that she would share something new. He had commented in the last letter to her that he was surprised that she was as accepting of his lack of a hand as she had been in the village. Most people either were repulsed by it or in fearful awe. She simply viewed it as nothing of consequence. When Red had served some meat dish to him at the pub, he had caught Emma through the door of the kitchen chopping it up finer so that he might not have to struggle with it. When he had questioned her on it, she had merely shrugged and told him that she did not wish to see him tear through it with his hook nor starve for the lack of thoughtfulness.

His eyes wandered to the paper again, her script still a cross between beauty and practicality as she was for him.

Anyone who would think less of you for your lack of a hand is a fool. I don't see you that way. I see the struggle that you must have overcome at the loss of it and the daily struggle you go through now on what you must have at one point considered easy tasks. Your hiding it from me made me think that perhaps you did not think I was strong enough to stomach such, but now I realize you wished to maintain the illusion that you were somehow unmarred and unscathed by your years as a pirate. That would make me the fool, as there are very few ways of living that don't leave us with scars either visible or not. You wear yours at your damaged wrist and I wear mine inside. But I will have you know the pain is just as profound for each.

There was something to appreciate about her boldness, he thought as the sounds of boots marching the prisoner to him grew louder. She might wear the title of princess and look like an angel with a tiara held up by her curls (he assumed), but she was strong and daring with her thinking, something that he quite enjoyed about her. He could picture her reading the books that he had enjoyed, discussing them with him with a laugh in her voice as she stunned him with some revelation that he had never even considered.

He tucked the letter away just before the men brought the other captain to him, hoping that he could do the same with the thoughts of her. He hoped that the thoughts that plagued him would dissipate, but they seemed to grow more as he read her letters and began to realize even more how captivating she actually was over all the beauty she possessed. The beauty of her hair, her eyes, her countenance had of course struck him when he first met her, even sopping wet in the rain, but each conversation had only elevated that. And now without the vision of her before him, he could honestly say that she was enchanting.

"Captain Hook," Smee said, his arm dragging a much taller man into the room. He looked pleased with himself as if he had somehow captured him alone, though Killian knew better. "You wanted a word with the prisoner."

Killian's face was hidden by the late afternoon shadows, but he still kept it expressionless as he dismissed the crew that brought the man to him. They might have been a bit shocked at that, as a prisoner rarely got a private moment with Killian. Nothing was said at first as the prisoner dropped himself unceremoniously to a chair that had been fastened to the floorboards for when the seas got rough. His hands and ankles shackled, the man struggled with the task.

"You mean to kill me," the man said finally, breaking the silence with a brave but wavering voice. "I don't hold any secrets that could assist you so I don't think there is much use in torturing me. So why am I here?"

Killian almost smiled, as he would have asked and wondered the same questions. There were no rules written for such circumstances, but he was sure this would break those that were assumed. "I have you a bit confused, I suppose."

The man was not about to give Killian that admission. "I only wish to know what you want of me. You've taken my ship. You looted it for everything of value and probably destroyed what you didn't steal. I can't imagine that I would be worth that much to you alive. There is no one to pay the ransom."

The portrait on the wall of his cabin said different, but Killian didn't show that card quite yet. "No one?" he asked. "You have no family? No wife?" Not interested in the idea of a ransom, Killian had not planned to do that. He simply wanted to know if his feelings were correct, though that was a dangerous proposition.

The man said nothing. "No one of means. Not anymore."

The man's fidgeting did not go unnoticed by Killian. "But there must be someone. Someone of limited means, perhaps?" When the man said nothing, Killian took a step in that direction, again noticing the slight flinch. "I doubt you will believe this, but I don't mean to hurt you. I only wish…" He was not sure what he wished. Did he truly have a plan? He wanted to know if his assumptions were right, but then what? What could he do with him?

"I have a wife and two sons," the man said in a tentative voice. "I have not seen them in months and now…And now they may or may not receive a letter that I have been captured and killed. I knew of the dangers and my wife did too, but it is not as though we ever think this will happen to us." A rosy blush covered the man's ruddy complexion, having said too much. "But I know I shall never see them again now."

Killian closed his eyes. If he were to send this man away and back to his ship, he'd lose any credibility he had. Yet the portrait haunted him, the kind way the woman's mouth turned up and the softness of the scene. He did not want to send a man to his death and know that someone suffered for the loss. Two sons, he thought with his hand furling and unfurling. Two sons just like he and his brother. He knew that his mother had desperately missed his father in their time apart, but he had never considered the man who was his father. Had his father missed them as well? Had he had moments of regret? When he had abandoned his children, had he considered the repercussions or held second thoughts about it?

"You will see them," Killian said, scaring himself with the voice that echoed in the wooden room.

***AAA***

Emma's head swam as her brother read aloud from the text that Johanna had instructed him to read. His clipped voice stuttered over a few of the words but Leo and Roland sat enthralled that this boy not much older than they were could make sense of the scribblings on the page. Both of the younger boys sat with their legs crossed and heads tilted back as Leo read and sat in the chair that David usually used. Emma was quieter, off to the side, helping him sound out the words from time to time as she pulled out Elsa's letter and read it to herself.

"What's this word?" Leo asked, having given up his attempt. He held up the tattered book and pointed to it with his finger. "Emma?"

Her hair bounced as she shook herself from the concentration and looked closely. "Triumph," she said with a smile. "And you know what that means."

Leo smiled broadly, turning the book back to himself. "The villagers danced in triumph," he read surely and confidently.

Both of the boys smiled, realizing that the battle that Leo had been reading about was concluded successfully. "That's a great story," Roland breathed, nudging his brother with his shoulder. "I like it."

"Maybe there's another," Henry added, jumping to his feet and running for the shelves of books where he stared as though he could make sense of the titles.

"I'm afraid there isn't time for that," Emma told the boys, straightening her skirts as she stood. "Your parents want you downstairs for a meal soon and Leo must finish his arithmetic."

Pouting but still playful, Henry and Roland dashed from the room after a quick delay. To Emma's amusement, the boys bowed to her as they had been taught and asked to be excused. She almost giggled at the sight that was usually reserved for her mother. Telling them it was not necessary, she waved them off and turned to her brother. He was reluctantly pulling out the work he had to do.

"Do you think that his ship is like the one in the story, Emma?" he asked, his lopsided grin shining through.

"Whose ship?" Emma asked, trying to recall what ship he was even talking about.

"Killian's ship," her brother announced with a slightly frustrated grimace. What else could he have been talking about? "Do you think his ship is so fast and powerful that it might travel the realms on a single gust of wind?" So that was what the story's ship had done that so enthralled all three of the boys.

"I don't know that there is any ship truly that powerful," Emma said, realizing that her brother was disappointed in her answer. "But I'm sure that Killian's ship comes close."

Placated, the boy turned back to his assignment. "Are you going to help me?" he asked. Leo was smart as they came, but his confidence was lacking. Emma smiled politely and dipped her head.

"I must finish this letter," she said. "I will look at the problems with you after."

Leaving him to his work, Emma walked to the bench by the largest of the library's windows. When she was a young girl she would curl up there and read or watch the festivities for events she was too young to attend at the time. The thick pillows made for a comfortable seat as she pulled her legs up under her dress. Elsa's letter was a bit distressing, as the Queen explained that her sister was expecting and traveling north to be with Kristoff's family during the upcoming weeks.

I have promised to help you and I shall. I will arrive as soon as I can and as soon as this ship comes available. While there are others in the armada, I am distrustful of their crews to bring them to Misthaven. For there is evidence that they are much more entrenched with the Dark One that one could imagine. My advisors have agreed to ferret out the spies among them, but I will not rest easy upon their ships until this is done.

Emma glanced at her brother's tousled head, bent over the book and calculating sums at a much faster pace than she had assumed him capable. He was so young and unaware of the danger, so eager for his life to truly begin. He believed in magic and in the good in people. She wished for a moment she could be that innocent too. However, she had other things on her mind.

Placing the lap desk across her and holding the tip of the pen over the paper, Emma sighed. She would do this. If Elsa needed a way by sea to get to Mist Haven, she would ask him.

Enjoy watching Once Upon A Time tonight or whenever you watch it!