Many thanks to jennifer-morrison on tumblr for giving this a look over, and phiralovesloki for being a sounding board in all matters of fic writing!

As always, enjoy, and reviews feed the muse!

Chapter 3: Of Doubts and Reckless Diving

"It's the man!"

Startled by his son's sudden and loud exclamation, Killian's foot jerked from where it had been comfortably resting on the bed and a colorful curse tore from his lips as his right knee connected with the corner of Liam's nightstand.

Liam's eyes widened comically. "That's a bad word, Papa."

"Aye, that it is," Killian grumbled, balancing the open book in his left hand as he rubbed his sore knee with the other one. That was going to leave a bruise.

"You aren't suppose to say bad words."

"Sometimes, my lad, certain situations call for them." Although letting one slip in front of your son was still not the best parenting move he had ever made. Emma would surely have his head if she ever found out he had done it. Wincing as he straightened his leg back out, he added, "And none of those situations are applicable for you until you are at least eighteen. Now, what were you saying about the man?"

Liam's face shifted from one of surprise to excitement at the reminder of what had made him interrupt the story. "The man that was spying on them as they kidnapped the princess—it's the one she was in love with!"

Killian's right eyebrow rose slightly. "What makes you think it's him?"

"It's how fairy tales go, Papa," Liam replied with a dramatic roll of his eyes. "Who else could it be?"

Adjusting the book in his hands, Killian shrugged despite knowing full well his son was right. He had, after all, collaborated with Henry on the finer plot points that would mirror his wife's favorite movie, and the 'dead' hero following after the princess and her kidnappers was a fairly important point to keep in. Not that Liam needed to know he was right, of course.

"Perhaps it's a shy and bumbling deckhand, or a pot bellied, gray haired pirate who stumbled upon the scene and now has grand dreams of rescuing the princess."

"That's not romantic," Liam said with as much seriousness as a five year old could.

"Romance is subjective, lad. How about I continue reading and maybe we'll find out who he is."

Nodding his little head in agreement, Liam made himself comfortable once again against the headboard. "Okay, but I'm going to be right, Papa."

Night had fallen some time ago, shrouding the land in an inky darkness that turned the distant shore into nothing more than a shadowy outline in which to guide their vessel by. The full moon was no help navigational wise, either. The ethereal orb only broke through the clouds that obscured its light occasionally, showing them the still water that immediately surrounded them in patches of silver. Jefferson had assured him they would be fine to continue sailing through the night, but as David stood at the railing of the small sailboat the Mad Hatter had acquired, he realized it wasn't a fear of running aground on some unseen object that had his brow furrowed in concerned.

Five days from now he'd be in the cave where Rumpelstiltskin was imprisoned, trading the Princess of Camelot for information on where Zelena had disappeared. The revenge he had dreamed about day and night for the past three years was just within his reach, and he could almost taste the sweetness of it. He'd finally have justice for the loss of his daughter and the breakdown of his marriage. So why was he suddenly plagued with doubt?

David didn't doubt that the Dark One would keep up his end of the bargain. No, he knew Rumplestiltskin's reputation well enough to know that the man never broke deals when he was getting something out of it, and it had been clear by the sheer strength of the Dark One's pleading that the princess was something he desired very much. He also didn't doubt the glittering imp's ability to lead him to Zelena. The power of the Dark One was vast and unmeasurable—he had helped David find Snow nearly thirty years ago simply by enchanting a ring—and of anyone, he possessed the knowledge on how to get to wherever Zelena was.

What was causing him to doubt the validity of this plan was the very woman he had been sent to kidnap.

Turning from the sight of a shoreline he could barely make out, David's eyes landed on the Princess of Camelot. She was still unconscious from the sleeping powder and lay in the middle of the small sailboat on her side. The light from the four lanterns they had lit after nightfall allowed him to make out the curls in her blonde hair and the steady rise and fall of her chest. From the moment he had pulled the princess from her horse and into his arms, David's mind and heart had been at war with one another. It was easy to harden one's resolve against the morality of what one was doing when the person who would pay for your actions wasn't right in front of you. Seeing the living, breathing human being and knowing he was going to be the cause of whatever Rumplestiltskin had planned for her unsettled him in a way he hadn't been prepared for. He knew it was largely his conscious, a piece of the honorable man he use to be rising to the surface and demanding he look at the choices he was making, but it was more than that.

Whenever he looked at the princess he couldn't help but be reminded of his daughter. She looked to be the same age as Emma would be and was strikingly close to the image he had formed in his mind of what his adult daughter might look like. If he turned his head a certain way, he could even swear she had Snow's chin and his ears—which was an absurd thought. Lots of people had that chin and ear shape. It didn't mean they were related to him. Still, he couldn't stop his mind from comparing the two women.

He wondered if Emma would have already found love like the princess had, and if the man who captured his daughter's heart would be royalty or a commoner like he had once been. Would Emma have had the same carefree and peaceful lifestyle as the woman laying at his feet if she had grown up in the safety of a castle instead of gods only knew where? He knew nothing of the Princess of Camelot's past, but she certainly didn't seem to have ever worried for anything, if the fine material of her gown was anything to go by. In the early years after the curse was broken, Snow had confided to him that she dreamed of Emma going to balls and dressing in beautiful gowns. Did the princess enjoy those things as his daughter might have? Would Emma's hair be the same sunshine color currently pooled on the deck of the sailboat, or would it be as black as Snow's was?

David shook his head. Those kinds of thoughts only lead to a path of heartache and served to further his doubts, an act he wouldn't tolerate. Nothing was going to get in the way of his revenge, not even Emma's ghost. Glancing away from the woman that made him think of the daughter he had lost, David looked towards the helm where Jefferson stood steering the sailboat.

"How long until we reach the cliffs?"

"By dawn at the earliest," the Mad Hatter replied without turning around. He had been oddly reserved since they boarded the boat and set sail, his usual long winded and rambling replies replaced with short and direct responses whenever David or Robin asked him a question.

David nodded despite the fact the other man couldn't see the movement. It wasn't what he wanted to hear, but Jefferson had assured him the new route would see them safely out of Camelot, and that was all the King of Misthaven cared about.

"You can't get us there any sooner?" Robin called from his position at the stern of the boat.

"This is a sailboat, not an enchanted ship," Jefferson shot back before looking over his shoulder at the former thief. "What in the nine hells are you doing?"

Turning to see what the Mad Hatter was talking about, David saw Robin standing with his back to them, his gaze fixed on the inky blackness that lay behind them.

Without turning around Robin replied, "Making sure no one is following us."

Jefferson huffed in annoyance before turning his attention back to the helm. "We aren't being followed. Arthur and his men are heading towards the marshes as we speak, and since no one witnessed us kidnapping the princess, there's no private citizen trying to rescue her for some monetary reward. You're paranoid, Hood."

"No, I simply don't trust you."

David didn't miss the way Jefferson's shoulders stiffened at the former thief's remark, but he brushed the action away as the Mad Hatter taking offense to not-so subtly being called a liar. He couldn't blame the man for being upset. Robin had been leery of the man's motives since they met, which made no sense to David. Regina had assured Robin that Jefferson would make the best guide in and out of Camelot, so why didn't Robin trust his wife? David certainly did, which spoke to just how far he had come in forgiving the former Evil Queen for her past actions.

Before he could say anything to his friend a quiet groan sounded from the deck, and looking down, he saw the princess's eyelids flutter. Her head rolled to the side as she slowly came to, another pained groan falling from her lips along with a slurred saying that the King of Misthaven could have sworn sounded like an expletive.

"What's an explative, Papa?"

"Expletive," Killian automatically corrected with the well used patience of a parent. "It's what I said earlier when I hit my knee."

"Oh." Looking up from the book, he saw Liam's brow furrowed adorably. "So, it's a bad word?"

"Aye."

His son gave him a doubtful look. "Princesses don't say bad words."

"You'd be surprised, lad," Killian replied before continuing to read.

Having been told by Jefferson of the side effects most people felt upon waking from sleeping powder, David grabbed their flask filled with fresh water and knelt next to the disoriented princess.

"Here, this will make you feel better."

He aided her in taking a few sips of the refreshing liquid, careful to ensure she didn't drink too much for her prone position. Once he was certain the pounding in her head had eased off due to the lack of painful groans, David helped her into a sitting position and maneuvered her hands to hold the flask herself. She was clearly dazed, her eyes not really focusing on him or any one detail in particular as she attempted to shake off the last vestige of sleeping powder.

"Wh—where am I?" she asked, her voice quiet and hoarse from sleep.

David started to respond but Jefferson spoke first.

"You're on the Grail River, your Highness, and you've been kidnapped."

David glared at the smirking man before returning his attention to the princess. He could tell she didn't fully comprehend the Mad Hatter's words at first, her unfocused eyes moving to Jefferson and then back to him, but after a few seconds clarity returned to her. He saw the moment it did—her green eyes widening, fear momentarily flashing across her face before it was replaced with anger, her body stiffening—and in the blink of an eye she reacted.

The flask he'd placed in her hands was shoved directly into his nose with more strength than David would have suspected a princess to have, and he fell backwards onto the deck with a pained shout. Stars filled his vision and blood began to pour from his nose almost immediately, but a quick examination with his own hand told him it wasn't broken. Through the throbbing pain, he could hear Robin shouting, and something in his friend's tone sent a chill down David's spine.

Forcing his eyes open, David cleared the tears blurring his vision just in time to see the Princess of Camelot jump off the side of the boat.

She was in danger.

That was the only thought going through Emma's mind once the fog cleared and she registered the stranger's words. Without thinking she slammed the heavy object in her hands at the blonde haired man kneeling in front of her, putting every ounce of muscle she had gained from working on a farm into the movement. As soon as it connected with her intended target she dropped it and stood, stubbornly ignoring the wave of nausea that threatened to overtake while she quickly took in her surroundings. It had clearly been some time since they kidnapped her, since she had went for her daily ride early that afternoon and it was now nighttime. She was also on a small sailing vessel that looked like it had seen better days on the water, and she wasn't alone with the man sitting on deck holding his bloody nose. There was a man on either end of the boat—the other two who had been there when she was knocked out—and both of them had turned to look in her direction at their friend's shout.

Following her survival instinct, Emma clambered onto the boat's railing, the adrenalin coursing through her body giving her the ability to ignore the pain when her right foot initially lost its hold and her knee connected with the side of the railing. She could hear the man who had been wearing woodland garb shout something at her but she ignored it. With one hastily drawn breath and a silent thanks to Liam for teaching her to swim, she jumped as far into the darkened waters as she could.

The second Emma propelled herself up from her initial dive into the water, she began to swim away from the boat and her would-be kidnappers. In between strokes she could hear two of the men arguing while the one was still shouting about danger, a fact that would have made her laugh if she wasn't using all her energy to keep herself from sinking because of the weight from her wet dress. The danger was being on the boat with them, not in the water.

She had only managed to get about ten feet away when she heard it—a high-pitched and very distinctive shriek. Emma instantly stopped swimming at the sound, a horrible realization sinking over her as she fought to tread water. That was what her one kidnapper had meant by danger. They were in the Grail River, and while it was one of Camelot's most beautiful landscapes, it was also its deadliest. The deep river had been infested with a species of monster for generations, one that had become a warning story for children not to wander by the shore alone and the very reason Arthur's grandfather had made a royal decree banning all swimming in its waters.

It was the very water she was now in, alone, without a weapon of any kind.

"Do you know what that sound is, your Highness?"

Emma ignored the mocking question, her eyes focused on the water for the telltale ripple that preceded the creature's attack.

"That is the sound of a Shrieking Eel. Nasty creatures if I do say so. They always grow louder when they're about to feed on human flesh."

Emma glared over her shoulder at the kidnapper who sounded gleeful about her predicament, the grin on the man with the tattered top hat making her blood boil. She did note, however, that the other two kidnappers seemed genuinely worried for her, and the man whose nose she had smashed looked particularly stricken. Another shriek sounded, this time closer, and Emma's head whipped back around to the stretch of water in front of her.

At first she didn't see anything, but then from the corner of her left eye she saw the surface of the river ripple and her breath caught in her throat. The Shrieking Eel was less than twelve feet away from her and was moving closer with every second that ticked by. Keeping her movements in the water to a minimum, Emma quickly weighed how likely it was for her to reach shore before the creature attacked. She was a strong swimmer thanks to Liam's tutelage, but the Shrieking Eels had taken down even stronger swimmers before, and in the darkness she couldn't accurately judge how far she was from the shoreline. No, she wouldn't be able to out swim it. She'd have to fight it off somehow or die trying.

Another shriek, this time from her right, had Emma's heart beating rapidly against her chest. She could just make out the Shrieking Eels' dark body slithering beneath the surface of the water from the small bit of moonlight now visible, and in the blink of an eye the massive creature turned directly towards her. Tightening her right hand into a fist—her only real weapon—Emma was preparing herself for a life and death struggle when an unfamiliar hum began to roll through her body. It seemed to start somewhere at the center of her being and rapidly made its way outward, a gentle yet insistent wave that eventually reached to the very tips of her fingers and toes.

Emma's entire body filled with the humming sensation, and just as the Shrieking Eel's head broke the surface of the water she punched. Something from inside her surged forward, the hum intensifying as it raced through her and out where her closed hand made contact with the eel's slimy skin. There was a brief flash of light and then the eel was shrieking in pain, it's gigantic mass quickly swimming away from her with sounds of pain following its retreat.

Emma laughed in triumphant. She didn't know where that rush of adrenalin had come from, or how she'd managed not to get zapped from the eel's electricity, but she wasn't about to question any of it considering she was still breathing.

A shriek to her left cut her victory short, and Emma turned her head to find the first Shrieking Eel she had seen bearing down on her. She had been so focused on the other one that she hadn't kept an eye on this one's movements, and now there was no time to prepare for an attack. Just as the Shrieking Eel opened its mouth to reveal row upon row of sharp, fanged teeth, a flash of steel came from Emma's right.

One second she was staring down the creature's throat, the next she was watching its lifeless body sink beneath the waters of the Grail River, a detached head with its mouth forever open in an attack that wouldn't come following the same path seconds later. Shocked and confused, Emma turned to see the kidnapper whose nose she had smashed in the water next to her, a great long sword dripping with black blood held in his right hand. He'd clearly jumped into the water at some point during her altercation with the first Shrieking Eel and had reached her just in time to save her from the second one.

The thought both relieved and distressed her. He may have saved her from one of the monstrous creatures that roamed these waters, but his presence undoubtedly meant he would be taking her back to the boat—and back to being a hostage. Emma briefly entertained the idea of fighting him off and continuing her swim to shore when another high-pitched shriek sounded in the distance. There were more Shrieking Eels, probably hundreds that would have heard the cries of the others, and there was no way she had the energy or means to fight all of them off before she reached the shoreline.

Her best chance of survival, ironically enough, was with her kidnappers.

Emma willingly followed as her kidnapper guided her towards the boat, her mind already working through a variety of ways to escape once they reached land. A rope ladder was hanging over the side of the ship when they reached the wooden vessel, and the man in woodland garb was waiting at the top to help Emma over the railing safely. As soon as her feet touched the deck, the man with the tattered top hat grabbed her arm and roughly lead her to a crate sitting next to the mast.

He quickly began to tie her hands together with a piece of rope from the rigging - presumably to keep her from making another attempt at swimming away. It wasn't needed. Emma had no desire to rejoin the Shrieking Eels any time soon.

"You didn't tell me she had magic!" he shouted angrily towards the blonde man who had just climbed aboard. It took Emma a long moment to realize he was talking about her, and she stared at him in confusion.

"Magic? I—I don't have magic."

Clearly not liking her response, he pulled particularly hard on the final knot he made in her binds, causing Emma to wince as the rope bit into her skin.

"Be gentle!" the kidnapper who had saved her from the Shrieking Eels barked even as he wiped at the blood still running from his nose with a handkerchief. The concern Emma heard in his voice added to her confusion. Why did he care if his hostage was bound too tightly? Surely that's what he wanted. The man with the tattered top hat glared at the other man before returning his attention to her, his blue eyes bright with anger in the low light from the lanterns.

"You defeated the first eel with magic."

"I defeated him by punching him!" Emma countered, her voice rising slightly with the absurdity of what the man was implying. She'd know if she had magic, and she most certainly did not.

The man with the tattered top hat laughed. "Those are ancient, magical creatures, your Highness. They aren't easily defeated just because someone gives them a good right hook. You used magic," he said, emphasising his last sentence with a pointed finger at her.

Anger rose sharply within Emma. How dare this pathetic excuse of a man who had kidnapped her claim to know anything about her, particularly something that wasn't true.

"I told you, I don't have magic!"

Before he could say another word, the blonde haired man stepped forward and none too gently pushed the man who had tied her hands away. "Enough!" Turning to Emma he smiled, and for some reason the action calmed her rather than infuriate her more.

"You may not think you have magic, but there was a white light when you struck the eel. In my experience that sort of light can only come through the use of magic."

"What you saw was the Shrieking Eels' natural defense," she informed him with an annoyed huff. "Besides being able to feed on human flesh, why else do you think the creatures weren't killed off centuries ago? When attacked, they emit a light very similar to lightning which stuns their attacker. That's the light you saw—I just managed to get a good punch in before it was activated."

"Shrieking Eels don't run from a simple punch!" the man with the tattered top hat snapped. "Only magic can hurt them, and I know magic when I see it. Keep telling yourself whatever you have to, your Highness. And you—" Turning his attention to the blonde haired man who still stood between him and Emma, he continued, "I require double what my promised payment was."

For the first time since the effects of whatever they had doused her with wore off, Emma saw true anger flash across the face of the man whose nose she had bloodied.

"That wasn't what we agreed upon."

"She has magic—that changes everything!"

"It changes nothing. You'll stick to the plan and your agreed upon payment or—"

"Gentleman."

Tearing her eyes away from the two men locked in a heated argument, Emma saw her third kidnapper standing by the stern of the boat with his back towards them.

"What do you want now?!" the man with the tattered top hat snapped.

Turning around, the man in woodland garb shrugged. "Just thought you'd like to know we are being followed."

Hope soared within Emma's chest as the two men rushed to join their companion. Arthur! She may not be in love with him, but she knew her fiance would send every Knight and ship to find her once he realized Emma had been kidnapped. Camelot housed some of the fastest ships in the realm, and it was only a matter of time before she was rescued.

"It's probably some local fisherman," the man with the tattered top hat tried to explain logically with a wave of his hand. Emma watched as the man in woodland garb gave him an incredulous look.

"Through eel-infested waters and on a naval ship?"

She smiled at the confirmation that it was, in fact, a ship only Arthur would have sent behind them.

"Stranger things have happened."

"That's pretty strange even for these circumstances!" the man in woodland garb shot back. Before her other kidnapper could respond, the man who had jumped into the Grail River to save her turned and grabbed the tattered top hat wearing man by the labels of his corduroy coat.

"Get us to the cliffs, or Hera help me, what Arthur's men will do to you is nothing compared to the punishment I'll bestow upon you if I lose my only means of revenge, Hatter!"