A/N: This is my CSSV prompt for feeling-quilly, the summary is all her words. I had a lot more fun with this than I anticipated, so thank you! I did a lot of research on naval history and prize captures in the 18th century, and I had an absolute blast doing it. I took a few liberties with the layout of the ships, which I hope you can forgive, and I'm sure there are still some anachronistic and historical errors, for which I apologise. This is already mostly written, so it should be up as soon as I have time to finish editing.

Disclaimer: Not my characters, not my world. Just my imagination borrowing them for a bit.

"Prepare to go aboard!"

Lieutenant Killian Jones heard the warning from the Captain as he steadied his grip on the ropes, balancing almost effortlessly on the narrow rail of the Jewel, prepared for the jump across ships. Sword drawn, the comforting weight of his loaded firearm at his side, he turned to the group of men assigned to his command.

"Ready your weapons!" he shouted.

The sound of two dozen swords being unsheathed rang out against the noise of battle. Cannon fire echoed around them as the enemy ship desperately tried to fight them off. The war had been going on for nearly ten years, this ship just one of many that had been captured by both sides, but Killian knew that this time it was different. It had always been just a matter of time before his king managed to finally subdue their enemies in the kingdom of Misthaven, but this ship was told to contain valuable information - the location of an item that could help the Enchanted Forest finally win the war.

Both crews knew that as they fought fiercely on the decks of the Yellow Beetle. Blood covered the wooden planks, severed limbs and ghastly wounds from cannon fire contributing to most of the carnage, though a hefty bit came from the violent hand-to-hand combat that was being waged on the enemy ship.

It was a losing battle, Killian knew, but not for his king. Not this time.

With this secret information, they would finally hold the key to defeating the usurping kingdom once and for all.

This was the battle that mattered.

The two ships ground against each other, crossing boards straining and groaning over the sounds of shouting and clanging weapons. The cannons had stopped just then - no doubt there were no remaining crew members left to load and fire the heavy artillery - but still the Misthaven soldiers fought back. The first two boarding parties had already crossed to the other ship, taking down most of the enemy sailors. Killian's job was to secure the ship - and her precious cargo - before hauling the captured prize ship back to familiar territory to hand over to the Admiralty, and King James.

It was one of his favourite jobs.

Killian had done this dozens of times before, yet each time it was just as thrilling as the first, this one even more so with the importance of the cargo at stake. The rush of fear battled the race of excitement in his veins, his muscles tensed in anticipation of a fight, and he couldn't help the grin that plastered itself across his face.

He was ready.

"BOARD!" Killian yelled, leading the charge to the other ship. He rushed across, nimbly grabbing the previously anchored ropes as he made his way to the Beetle's deck. His men followed, their swords swinging as they quickly joined their fellow sailors in battle. Few men remained on the disabled Beetle, but those few fought valiantly, and it took all of them together to finally subdue the last of the crew.

Breathing hard, Killian found the extra ropes and helped his men restrain the living from among the Beetle's crew, tying the knots with quick efficiency. He stood, wiping the sweat and blood from his brow with his elbow. Not his blood, thankfully; his only "injury" was a torn coat sleeve where the swing of a blade had missed his skin, taking thick blue fabric instead and leaving him unmarked.

Not all his men were so fortunate. Sykes had a gash across one leg, Wallace had been stabbed through the abdomen - a fatal wound, poor lad - and Billy was bleeding profusely from a blow to the face. He sent two junior officers back to the Jewel of the Realm to fetch the surgeon and alert the Captain that it was all clear to come aboard.

The Captain, he thought, his focus returning after the near instinctual frenzy of the fight.

He found an officer tied to the grate near the gangway, his eyes flashing angrily as he kneeled imprisoned beside his men. Killian crouched beside the enemy Lieutenant.

"Where's your Captain?" he asked, his voice low.

The man grunted and shook his head.

"Dead," the Lieutenant replied bitterly. "He was cut down in the second volley."

One of the younger midshipmen approached Killian just then, his face pale, entire body twitching nervously. First battle, Killian thought, briefly recalling his own first fight. The gore wasn't the worst part of such an encounter. It was the screams of the dying and injured as they lay about the deck awaiting their turn to be treated.

"Lieutenant," stammered the boy. "We found the captain, sir. He's, well, uh…" he trailed off nervously, fingers twisting in his dress shirt.

"What is it, Stephens?" Killian asked as he stood.

"He's dead, sir. In at least two pieces. Malcolm is searching for his legs, but..."

The trembling child looked as if he was about to throw up or pass out, or both. Killian patted his shoulder. Stephens had proven to be a fine midshipmen since he came aboard, a strong leader of the other boys - fair, firm, kind - but he had never seen the raw ugliness of battle before. "Thank you, Stephens," he said softly. "Go back to the Jewel, and get the boys to start cleaning down the guns." A distraction from the horrors of war would do him good.

Stephens nodded gratefully and scurried off with a muttered, "Aye, aye."

Killian sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

So the Captain's dead, he thought. Guess I'll have to find the cargo myself.

Footsteps behind him made him turn. His Captain stood before him, just stepping off the planks running from the other ship. He saluted quickly, standing at attention.

"Captain," he nodded.

His brother returned the gesture. "Lieutenant." Captain Liam Jones stepped closer, taking in the state of the Beetle in a brief glance. He was good at that, taking in a lot of information with one look, processing it quickly and efficiently for later.

"Captain's dead, Liam," Killian said quietly. His brother had given him permission to address him so informally, as long as the other men weren't around. "We need to get the log books and find what we need as fast as possible," he said. "The longer we wait, the greater chance someone will hide it, or destroy it altogether. Do you know where they'd hide the information?"

"I assume it would be written in one of the logs, but there might be a secret log stashed elsewhere on the ship that would have the location. Have you checked the rest of the ship?" Liam asked.

Killian shook his head. "Not yet, we're just securing the prisoners. I'll take a few of the men below to search for it there. You've got the deck, Captain."

Liam nodded. "Well done, Lieutenant," he said, a quick smile lighting up his face before vanishing as he resumed his 'Captain's glare', as Killian called it privately.

The younger Jones smirked and turned to gather his crew.

The battle was over, but the search was just beginning.

It was quiet.

Emma knew that was a bad sign. Victory would have been met with cheers and celebration, the wounded carried below deck to be tended properly as the officers celebrated with a drink fetched from the cramped storage room in which she hid.

Not this silence.

Now what? she wondered. She knew the prevailing sailors would soon search the ship, but there was nowhere else to hide on the small vessel. She rummaged quickly through the bag she had dragged down to the hold with her and grabbed the small wooden box that had been entrusted to her care, securing its strap to her wrist as she gripped the sides tightly in her palm.

From now on, this box wouldn't leave her hand.

With the other hand, Emma felt the embroidered clasp on her cloak, checking to see that it held securely. That done, she then tugged on her belt at the sword she'd strapped there at the first sign of battle. The blade had been a gift from her father on her 15th birthday, and she never travelled without it.

She needed to come up with some escape plan, but the silence was disconcerting, the light tingling of nerves in her belly growing with each passing moment, distracting her. Come on, think!

Emma spotted a doorway on the side of the ladder, hidden behind large boxes and neat piles of coiled rope. She cautiously climbed across to them, careful not to lose the box in her hand, and touched it. It opened slowly outward and she could see a long passageway extending all the way to the front of the ship. A plan started to form in her mind and she smiled in anticipation as she climbed back over the cargo to where her bag lay and crouched beside a massive crate.

"Let the search begin," she whispered.

Killian cautiously made his way down the ladders of the Beetle, his sword drawn and ready in his fist. He'd divided up the ship into sections, assigning each of his men a different area to search. They were to report all the cargo and personnel they found and, once completed, begin moving all the ship's books and containers over to the Jewel, anything that couldn't be searched quickly while they were still on board. He knew Liam was anxious to get back to the Enchanted Forest, to bring the prize in for closer examination.

Killian personally chose the lowest hold, hoping the Beetle's Captain had thought to bury his treasure as deeply as possible in the bowels of his ship. He climbed down the last of the ladders onto the boards of the hull.

He stepped out slowly, the darkened area lit only by the open hatch above him. This would be the most obvious place to hide extra soldiers, he knew, which was the other reason he volunteered to search this area. He was the better swordsman of his company - a fact, not pride - and he would never willingly endanger one of his crew to a potential threat lurking in shadows.

He listened, waiting.

Nothing.

With a sigh, Killian lowered his sword and went to the stack of barrels in the corner. Better get these documented and sent across, he thought with a sigh. He was about to sheath his blade when he heard it - a gentle rustling near the farthest section of the hold. He slipped closer as silently as he could manage, gripping the sword once more.

The rustling grew louder.

Killian took another step. He still couldn't see what could be making the noise, the dim light too dark to make out much of anything this far below deck. It could just be a rat, he assured himself, swallowing the fluttering of fear that crept up his spine.

He was so focused on the noise in the corner that he failed to see the person come crashing into him from the other side. He spun in an instant, sword useless against the attacker, who was wrapped around him.

"This ship is now propert-" he started, looking down at the figure against his chest. Words fully escaped him as he realized who it was.

A woman, he gasped silently. Not just any woman. Her.

She blinked up at him, her golden hair pulled from her face, green eyes flashing even in darkness.

Before he could react, her lips crashed into his, her feet reaching on tiptoes to match his height. Stunned, he couldn't think, his mind going completely blank as sparks raced from her kiss throughout his entire body. Her soft mouth pressed against his, her tongue lightly pushing past his lips and into his mouth. He gasped into her, but she didn't pull away, her hand coming up to touch his chest, running her fingers up toward his neck. He wanted nothing more than to kiss her back, to stay locked in her embrace, her warmth, for as long as he could, but he had no idea what was going on.

After a moment, he pulled his head back, breaking away from her. His lips felt swollen and his head spun drunkenly. Her mouth glistened in the dimness, eyes sparkling with the hint of a smile.

"What the hell was that?" he whispered hoarsely.

"Distraction," she murmured softly, a beautiful grin stretching across her face.

He didn't see her arm swing up at his side, failed to notice the small box clutched in her hand or the direction her fist was aimed.

All he felt was the collision of the hard wood with the side of his head as stars burst behind his eyes, and he knew no more.