He liked to watch her laughing with the other members of the crew. Many of the men on board the Jolly had served under his command for decade after decade while they were trapped in Neverland and had still chosen to stay on with him afterward. Even after the whole debacle with the Queen of Hearts, they continued to fight by his side for every one of his battles. Of course, no one could ever match Liam, but these men had become much like family. He'd now known them longer than he'd had the opportunity to know his true brother. Every one of them was eager to assist him in seeking his revenge for that fact, although not a single one had known Liam. They knew only that their captain had a score to settle, and that was enough. They'd be behind him all the way, even if it meant their death. For a few, it eventually had. It was the life they'd signed up for and none expressed regrets.
Hook's grip squeezed tighter on the wheel's spoke, whitening his knuckles as he dismissed the memories of the missing faces. Instead, he watched the reddening light of the setting sun softly tint Emma's skin as she engaged in easy banter across the deck. She fit so naturally into his life after appearing so suddenly and unexpectedly, and yet at the same time, she'd somehow managed to turn his whole world upside down.
When she'd first signed on as crew, he hadn't expected her to stay long. That first night in the tavern, she had asked for passage rather than work. Although she'd never said as much, he was sure she would have jumped ship at their first landing if her plans hadn't been thrown off course by the unexpected discovery of the bounty on her head. He knew he'd be eternally grateful for that coincidence, regardless of the complications that came with it. After all, he was well-practiced at evading the wrath of monarchs. He'd long since grown to enjoy the hobby thoroughly.
Emma seemed to thrive in the fugitive lifestyle just as well. Despite all her recent injuries, upheavals, and other hardships, she smiled and at times seemed to even glow as she simply went about her day. He grinned to himself as he gazed at her: his princess, the pirate. Sunlit ocean spray in the air around her gave her a glistening aura as they passed over waves, and he thought back to what Pinocchio had mentioned regarding magic. She may have found difficulty believing that possibility with the struggles she'd endured over the years of her life (and it seemed as though he were always learning of more), but it made perfect sense to him.
He paused. "Smee," he called back over his shoulder, and the man promptly appeared beside him. "Take the helm for a moment. I'm going to check something below deck." He'd stepped away before Smee had even finished his affirmative reply.
Swiftly, he made his way down to his cabin and directly toward his desk. In one of the drawers lay a stack of papers, which he retrieved and began to rifle through, seeking one in particular. It was perhaps a bit vain, but whenever he saw a new bounty placed on his own head, he liked to know how the number compared to those of other wanted individuals. For the sake of reference, he kept a small collection of recent posters on board, grabbing any he happened to pass when at port that boasted rewards of notable size. There was one person who the Evil Queen would always pay more for than any other, and that was the poster he sought. It didn't take long to find. Slipping it loose from the pile, he relaxed backward into his chair to give it a closer examination.
The poster bore two faces rather than one, as the pair were inseparable these days. Snow White and Prince Charming - Emma's parents if Pinocchio was to be believed. Staring at the sketches, he thought he could see similarities between them, especially her alleged mother. There was much likeness in her round face, the point of her chin, the spread of her cheekbones, the curve of her button nose. He wondered whether Emma would note the same details when he showed her the illustration, or whether the lens she saw herself with would cause her to see something else.
Of course he'd heard the stories of the lost princess, but no one actually believed that "lost" meant "misplaced" in this context - at least, no one who was full grown. As he understood it, that version of the story was reserved for the children of the Resistance as they were tucked into their beds at night, or at the very most, perhaps a delusion of Queen Snow's well-renowned eternal optimism. He'd never imagined there was any truth to the claim.
On the night the Evil Queen's curse was meant to take place, she hadn't attacked with magic alone. She'd led her army in a full-scale assault on the castle. All the general public knew for certain was that prior to the evening of the coup, Snow White had been heavy with child, and the next morning she and her husband had neither child nor castle. While he'd never laid siege to a castle, Hook had been in plenty of battles. He'd made his assumptions accordingly about what may have happened to a newborn, or one almost-born. Escape through a portal within a magical wardrobe was nowhere on that list.
Everything about her was a surprise. Apparently she'd been that way from the start.
He laid the parchment back on top of the pile and returned the stack to the drawer he'd taken it from. Supper would likely be ready soon, and he was certain Emma would still attempt to carry a food-laden tray to his quarters for the two of them regardless of her broken arm if he didn't beat her to it.
He almost didn't make it in time. She must have made her way to the galley a mere moment after he'd descended to his cabin, as she was already standing beside Mr. Murray and the seat he'd practically adhered to as of late. The both of them were observing as Mr. O'Sullivan doled out the evening's stew into various receptacles on the counter, two of which were arranged on the tray Emma carried to the cabin each night.
Crossing his arms, he leaned against the frame of the open doorway. "How exactly are you planning on carrying that, Swan?"
The three other occupants of the room all startled at the sound of their captain's voice. Emma's jaw opened and closed twice before she finally furrowed her brow and insisted "I'll manage."
"And the two of you were going to let her." He let his gaze flicker with feigned darkness between Murray and O'Sullivan.
"Ain't that part of her job, sir?" O'Sullivan stood frozen, his ladle held paused in the air mid-pour. "I thought that she's still cabin boy even though she's your mistress too, right? Or… cabin girl?" His head whipped to the side to ask Emma. "Is it cabin girl? We haven't had one before." The question resulted in Emma attempting to hide a smile.
Hook raised his brows. "And Mr. Murray was hired as the ship's cook if my memory serves." He nodded toward the man in question, who had been willing to vacate his duties as necessary, but not the galley.
"She was insistin' though, Cap!" Murray interjected as O'Sullivan dropped the ladle back into the pot, muttering "y'all gonna be the end of me."
"I said she was boasting," Murray continued. "Told us she could carry a tray fine one-armed on account o' her time servin' folks in the tavern."
"And I can!" Emma protested, and Killian realized he wasn't surprised in the slightest.
"Aye, surely. Though I doubt ye had many waves rolling beneath your feet as ye did."
"Well no," she admitted. "But it's not like I just climbed aboard anymore. I've been living on the ship awhile now. I've gotten used to the movement."
Murray's face turned serious. "Don't ever take that thinking up in the rigging with ye, lass. The ocean won't stop surprising ye no matter how seasoned ye become as a sailor. Ever stop keeping yer wits about ye, she'll shake ye loose quicker than a blink."
Emma rolled her eyes, but her slight grin softened the expression. "I'm not planning on climbing up the rigging with a tray full of food. I'm taking it down the hall. It's not even that far."
"You'll do no such thing," Hook informed her. "None here doubt your capabilities, love. I'll not have you risking further injury to yourself to prove a point we're all well aware of. The moment we catch an unruly wave and the ship moves a way you don't expect, your reflexes will rely on your broken arm to steady the tray."
"I'll be fine," she sighed.
"Of course you will." He stepped forward and lifted the tray off the table. He only smirked as she objected all the way back to his quarters.
AN: Surprise!
I've been wanting to get back to this story for a while now. I still have all my old notes and I'd like to see it through to the finish because I still really like a lot of the ideas. No promises yet on what the frequency of updates will be like, but I do have every intention to keep going.
Sorry that I disappeared on you all. I got a bit distracted when I reconnected with my "one who got away" and ended up with a sea captain of my own.