Princess Emma's deerskin slippers made no sound as she walked the darkened street. Up on the hill over looking the port town the imposing and elegant walls of the castle glowed with the light of hundreds of fires and candles. She imagined she could hear the music and laughter of her farewell ball spilling out with the light even though it was impossible at this distance. From this distance the castle looked more like the model in her long abandoned nursery. For a moment she wished to be the young carefree Princess in that nursery and not a woman of twenty-four tasked with a delicate diplomatic mission.

She tore her eyes from the castle and settled them on the mostly empty streets trying to decide which direction would offer her the most distraction. After a few moments consideration she turned toward the harbor and the dockside taverns. She had escaped the castle to enjoy a night of anonymity and freedom before the months of scrutiny and obligation began and sailors seemed the least likely to recognize her. It had been years since she had snuck away from her duties and even longer since she had ventured to the port town instead of one of the closer castle villages.

Dressing up as a peasant had been the game of her youth. Escaping her bodyguards, getting drunk, kissing a village boy, winning a game of chance, and making friends had all felt so freeing and exciting; adventures that proved she was no longer a child. Those small adventures were eventually eclipsed by her diplomatic travels, actual dangers and other hard learned lessons. The palace became her refuge not a place to escape.

Except tonight in the press of people congratulating her and wishing her happiness and safety in her journey she had once again felt that suffocating trapped feeling. The need to escape was overwhelming. She had slipped from the ball room, through the kitchens and the secret service tunnel where miraculously one of her old peasant gowns had still waited.

She tugged at the gown now as she walked closer to the docks and the forest of masts in the harbor. It didn't quite fit in the chest, her breasts spilling out a bit more than she was used to in her royal gowns, and the material was rougher than she remembered. She ran her hands down her skirt ensuring that the dagger was still discreetly hidden and pulled her long golden hair over her chest.

The streets near the dockside taverns were dotted with people. Drunken shouts and songs echoed along with moaning from various alleyways. It felt alive and raw in a way Emma had forgotten existed and she smiled; this was just what she needed.

The tight coil in her shoulders loosened as she pushed open the door of the "Royal Swan" Light, warmth, noise, and the smell of beer greeted her. She glanced over the room. There was not a uniform in sight and the men looked rough but not dangerous. There was a generous amount of women some serving drinks others glued to the sides of men. Emma wondered how many were there for a free drink and some fun and how many were working and if it really mattered either way.

The place felt just on the margin of safe and dangerous. She locked eyes with a brunette bar maid who gave her a nod and came her way after dropping off a tankard.

"You looking to work?"

Emma shook her head. "Just for a good time." She was careful to elongate her vowels and disguise the precise diction that would immediately identify her as not belonging.

The woman gave her an assessing look and a short nod. "Well there are plenty men here willing to show you a good time." A loud burst of laughter caused them both to turn toward the table in the back. Emma caught her breath.

A dark haired man dressed entirely in black leather sat sandwiched between two women. He laughed as two large men stood from their table throwing gold coins down.

"Thanks for playing mates," he called as the women collected the coins from the table for him. His smile and swagger stirred something in Emma, the excitement of a challenge or maybe just raw physical attraction.

"What about him?" she asked.

"The Captain?" The brunette gave her a slow smile. "Oh he knows how to have a good time. Though if it's a warm bed you want look elsewhere, he rarely takes anyone for the night."

Emma nodded the assessment just what she could have wished. She was only looking for a few hours distraction not a royal scandal.

She squared her shoulders, tucking her hair behind her ears as she walked towards him. He was too engrossed in the women that flanked him to notice her approach so she placed her hands firmly on the table and leaned forward to get his attention.

"What are you playing?"

He looked up, past her exposed breasts and straight into her eyes. Emma felt a zing as he raised an eyebrow.

"Whatever you prefer, lass. As long as you have coin." His voice was deep and his diction a little too refined for a dockside tavern. She smirked at him and settled across the table their knees bumping purposefully. The other two women glared daggers at her but she ignored them.

"Liars dice," she said as she placed a copper coin on the table.

"If the lady insists." Her eyes jumped to his face at the title but she saw no recognition there only a smug confidence. She looked down and scooped up the dice. She rolled them in her hand for a long moment; surprised that they weren't weighted–she was used to playing cheaters. She grinned and released the dice on the grimy table.

They played for a long time. Exchanging barbs as money changed hands repeatedly. The Captain was a good player but Emma was better. Her pile of coins grew bigger but he didn't seem to mind losing or to mind when the two girls at his side left for drinks and didn't return. Emma guessed they had gone to find men who were less distracted. After their departure he placed his left hand on the table and that's when Emma saw that he didn't have a left hand but a silver hook.

Her alarm was tempered by her excitement. She had guessed the man was a pirate but it had not occurred to her that he might be a famous one and certainly not the infamous Captain Hook. From the stories she had always pictured Captain Hook as a man closer to her father's age. He caught her stare and she looked away; her manners finally taking hold.

"No need to be scared, love, I promise I only use it on my enemies."

"I'm not scared," she shot back.

"Are you sure? Perhaps you should come closer and prove it." His "t" came out so crisp Emma had to wonder again where he had been schooled. He smirked; his invitation clear. She knew that this was the moment she should collect her winnings and walk away. She had gotten what she came for, a chance to feel desired for herself and not her title, to laugh and pretend for a moment that the fate of the kingdom didn't rest on her shoulders. But she wasn't ready to leave and so with little hesitation she stood and crossed over to sit beside him on the bench.

He swung one leg over so he was facing her while straddling the wooden plank and she did the same. He slid closer pressing their knees together. To prove her lack of fear Emma slipped her hand along his left arm and grasped his hook. The metal was cold and the point looked dangerously sharp but she ran her fingers along it and then looked up at him through her lashes. He was watching her intently and when their eyes met she felt a spark of electricity that scared her much more than the weapon she was touching. She had been shamelessly flirting all night but this was something different, something more.

The moment was broken by the arrival of a bar maid with a bottle of rum and two glasses. Hook turned from her to pour them both a drink. Emma released his hook and took a deep breath.

"Let's play a game, darling," he offered her a glass "one of us asks a question and you can either answer or drink."

She took the glass as she contemplated his offer. It was a chance to learn more about him but it also presented the danger of him learning too much about her.

"I'll go first." It seemed to be a night for risk.

He gave her a wide grin and gestured for her to continue.

"Where did a pirate learn such manners and vocabulary?"

His smile dropped as he furrowed his brow; not the question he was expecting. His hand twitched on his glass but he didn't lift it.

"I was formally educated at the Royal Naval Academy of my kingdom."

"You were in a navy? How did you become a pirate?"

"Ah! Only one question at a time. It's my turn."

She frowned not at all sure she was ready for an invasive or impertinent question.

"Where did you learn to play liars dice?"

She relaxed. "When I was 15 I was taught by a farm boy in a tavern near…my home."

Hook didn't seem to notice her slight pause about the location and gave her a raised eyebrow as if her were trying to imagine that younger version of her.

"How did you become a pirate?"

Hook lifted his glass as if he would not answer. Emma shot him a pleading look; hoping to change his mind and not sure why she wanted to know the answer. He lowered the glass and met her eyes.

"I was a Lieutenant on a secret mission for a corrupt king. His villainy got my Captain killed and so I decided I would never fight or sail for anyone but myself. All royalty is corrupt. It's in their blood." His haunted eyes skittered from hers and he downed his drink even though the rules of the game didn't require it.

Emma bit her lip at his words. His hatred of royalty ran deep and it felt like a personal insult. She wondered what he would do if he knew who she really was. How quickly would his smirk change to a sneer?

He poured himself another drink and turned back to her.

"Why did you come here tonight?"

She wanted to lie but it felt wrong when he had just shared something personal. She fiddled with her glass but didn't lift it. "I suppose because I wanted a night off. To have fun and just be myself, no expectations, no pressure."

She gave him a half smile and he considered her with a slightly cocked head. There was understanding in his eyes and she thought that the life of a pirate captain might have as much pressure and loneliness as the life of a princess. It was her turn and she decided to lighten the tone; bring it back to the flirting they had started.

"Your tattoo, what does it mean?" She gestured to his forearm where she had noticed something that looked like a blade through a heart peeking out from his fallen cuff.

He glanced down at his arm as if surprised that she had seen it. He stared for a few long seconds and then looked back at her with a blank, almost lost look. Then he lifted his glass and drank the rum in one long swallow. It seemed she wasn't the only one with secrets.

"Have you ever been in love?" He asked as soon as he placed his glass on the table. There was a stab in her heart; she didn't know how to answer. She thought she had loved Neal, been sure of it, but then he had betrayed her and she was no longer sure. She took a drink. She could feel Hook's eyes on her and she returned them with defiance.

"And what about you Captain? Have you ever been in love?"

"Aye, I have been in love." He held her gaze as he spoke his voice rough and low. She dropped her eyes first and refilled both their glasses. He lifted his and sipped. Then he considered her taking in her hair and her clothing. Emma tensed waiting for him to ask his another probing question. The game was no doubt meant to be fun but somehow it had turned into personal revelations and Emma thought that no matter his question she was going to drink. He leaned closer and she could smell the leather of his clothes and the rum on his breath.

"What's your name?"

"Emma," she replied without thinking.

He lifted a lock of her hair with a smile and a low hum. She swallowed. Her heart had picked up pace and she realized that she hadn't been this close to a man since Neal. But being physical was easier than sharing emotions and she was happy he had changed to game.

"What's your name? You weren't born Captain Hook."

"Killian Jones," he answered with a smile.

She smiled feeling as if he had shared a secret with her. "Killian," she tried the syllables on her tongue and was rewarded with a wide smile.

"Emma," he murmured back.

She felt a thrill up her spine at the way he said her name like a caress. His eyes darted to her lips. She wanted to kiss him and in the moment she couldn't think of a single reason not too. She would never see him again. They were just two ships passing in the night. One kiss couldn't hurt. She surged forward, her hands gripping the collar of his leather coat as her mouth sealed on his. He was willing and eager and tasted of rum. His left arm wrapped around her lower back and drew her closer; her breasts pushed against his chest. He gave a moan and tangled his hand in her hair. Blood rushed in her ears and Emma felt a pull low in her belly telling her not to stop. The strength of her desire scared her and she pulled away. She released his jacket and pushed against his chest, hands connecting with his flushed skin. He fell back and dropped his arms.

"I have to go," she blurted out and then rose clumsily to her feet; still reeling from the kiss but needing to escape.

He blinked as if his mind couldn't process her declaration. She turned and fled.

She pushed through the crowd and out into the cold, salty air. She inhaled deeply and looked back at the now closed door. It was just a kiss with a practical stranger but it had ignited something, he had ignited something, that she didn't want to face.

A large group of rowdy men spilled from a tavern further down the street. Emma glanced up to see them advancing toward her and her already unsteady heart leapt. In the center of the group stood Blackbeard with his long red coat and cruel face. The same face that had twisted in anger when she had gotten the best of him six months ago. He had tried to take her ship as she traveled back from Arendelle but her men had fought back and Emma's blade had tasted his blood before he had called a retreat. He could not see her standing in the shadows but Emma knew the moment he identified her she was dead.

The door behind her opened and she jumped at the light that spilled out.

"Emma. You forgot your winnings."

She felt a wave of relief at the sound of Hook's voice. She reacted on instinct. Spinning around and grabbing his hook she pulled him into the shadows. She braced herself against the cold stone of the tavern and brought him close. His body blocking her from Blackbeard's sight. Once again she yanked his lips to hers but this time her passion was tinged with the fear of being discovered. Her ears were tuned to the sound of the group drawing closer even as Hook's hand wandered to her cup her cheek.

"Hook? Is that you?" Dread filled her at the sound of Blackbeard's voice and she froze. With a groan Hook pulled away. She buried her face in his neck and distractedly kissed the warm skin as she prayed that Blackbeard would leave quickly. Hook turned his head slightly.

"Aye. But I'm a bit busy, mate."

Lewd laughter bubbled up from the group. Emma heard the door banging open and imagined the men spilling into the tavern. She knew what they must think they were doing and she knew Kill–Hook–probably thought the same thing.

"Well when you're finished. Come and have a drink. I have a proposition for you."

Hook grunted and Blackbeard gave another laugh. Emma heard the door slam shut. She didn't move. Her nose stayed buried where his neck met his shoulder–the kissing forgotten in her agitation. She took a deep breath and his scent flooded her senses. He nosed at her hair and she wondered what he smelled that made him sigh.

She let herself sink into the comfort of his arms for a few moments as she gathered her thoughts. He stroked her hair gently. She tried not to think about why he had not tried to kiss her again; why he seemed content with chaste touches. She pulled away from his neck and met his gaze. She was startled by the look of concern she found there.

"I wouldn't let Blackbeard harm you, Emma." It was absurd because he was a pirate, as bad if not worse than Blackbeard, but his declaration made her feel safe. His arms made her feel safe.

His hand cupped her cheek and he pulled her to his lips. It was a soft, delicate kiss. A whisper of his lips against hers. Panic rose in her again. This was worse than their passionate kisses, much worse. He seemed to be asking her for a promise that she couldn't give. He pulled away and sighed–his breath hot on her cheek.

"I don't often come to this port but as Captain I could make an exception–with the right incentive." He gave her a smirk and a raised eyebrow that almost stopped her heart.

"Killian I–" She shook her head. "This was a one time thing."

His face fell and he moved away from her. Then he smiled, too bright, and Emma knew he was hiding his disappointment behind it. She wondered if he could see the disappointment in her eyes.

"As you wish."

Ridiculously she wanted to explain to him to let him know that if she was just a peasant in a port town she would ask him to return. But she couldn't tell him, could never see him again. He was avoiding her eyes and she realized how foolish it was for her to have come, to think that she could escape who she was, to let anyone close to her, even for one night. She pulled her shoulders back and strode away into the dark without another word. She didn't let herself look back.

When Emma arrived in her bedchamber she changed into her bed clothes without summoning the maid. Then made her way to her bed where she was surprised to find a note from her mother waiting for her on the pillow.

Dear Emma,

I saw you leave and thought you had come to your room but you are not here. I assume you have left the castle. I am hoping you were just feeling overwhelmed and needed time elsewhere. But if you are having second thoughts dear daughter please tell us! A marriage alliance with Prince Walsh would be very advantageous for the kingdom but please don't agree if at the end of your visit you feel nothing for him. Your father and I want you to marry for love and we don't care if it's a prince or a shepherd. And I know after Neal you gave up on love but not all men are like him. I have hope that you will find a man worthy of your love. You should too.

Emma sighed and climbed into her bed. Her parents with their romantic story and True Love didn't understand what it meant to be betrayed, to be guarded, to never trust another with your heart. Emma didn't expect to fall in love with Prince Walsh and that's what she wanted. A marriage of convenience would protect her heart from ever being broken again.

That night she dreamed of concerned blue eyes and kisses that left her burning but the next morning she packed for her journey.

-/-/-/-/-/-

Authors Note: This is it for now. But if I get time and inspiration I might write a second part to this. But I like the more melancholy ending myself!