A/N - Welcome, swen! This is going to be twenty five chapters, kinda slow burn but if there's any fandom that can handle that it's us. Also I feel like I should warn you that H00k appears in this prologue and briefly in chapter one, but that is all, he is nothing but a plot device and vanishes after that. Also, bear with me, since this and the next one (which I'll post today) are mainly setting the scene for the real story and for our ladies to meet. Here we go.

Prologue

"Come on, Rocinante!" Regina urged, voice rough and thick with cold. "We're nearly free."

Night wind rushed over her skin as she rode, stinging her cheeks and making her eyes water. She curled her fingers fighter around the horse's reins. All around, the shadows of the trees, black on black, were growing sparser. They had to be close now. She'd been riding two days straight. "Come on." Two days of breathlessness. Two days of her heartbeat rising to contend with the thunder of her horse's hooves tearing at the hard-packed dirt road. Two days of hard determination. Two days closer to freedom. Two days alone.

Except that wasn't how she felt. It felt like she'd been alone all her life and now she never would be again, because she had herself back. Maybe that didn't make sense. It didn't matter. She was too close now.

Above her, the inky sky unfurled like a tapestry, scattered with stars. A chalky rind of moon hung sullenly above the black treetops. Regina gripped Rocinante's reins, leaning close enough to his neck that she could feel his pulse, racing out of time with hers. The animal's warmth seeped through her cold skin. Her blood was running like crazy – it didn't feel like her heart was beating so much as her whole body was. In the tearing wind, wispy tendrils of hair were falling free of their braid to cling to her face. Regina was completely breathless, air stolen from her lungs by the hard ride and the prospect of everything she'd dreamed. Not long now.

"Just a few more hours," She managed, gripping the reins as hard as she could. The words echoed around her mind, infected her, coursed through her bloodstream. Just a few more hours.

Whether it was hours or seconds or years she couldn't have said, but the moon was still up when the faint orange lights of the dock appeared on the horizon. Regina's heart thudded as she craned for a more definitive glimpse, breath tangled up around her ribs. Scrambling to spur Rocinante on, she searched the growing collection of lights. Hysterical determination was spiking through her veins. I've done it. I've done it, and I never have to go back there again. After the lights appeared, it couldn't have been more than half an hour before the dirt road turned to a proper path beneath the horse's hooves, and she slowed to a walk.

Heartbeat roaring in her ears, Regina loosened her manic grasp on Rocinante's reins, trying to look around without being too obvious. As the sounds of people shouting and rough-voiced conversations on the air, she stiffened with caution. Now comes the dangerous part. She steeled herself.

There was a warmth in the salty air now, the distant shouts of rowdy men and women inside the buildings, of sailors loading cargo by the waterfront. The road narrowed to a gravel path, branching off in all different directs as the buildings rose up, crude and strong and wooden, either side of her. They seemed to jostle for space, crammed up against each other, too narrow and then too wide. She'd never been anywhere so... peasant before. She never imagined it smelling so much of fish. Regina tried not to grimace. Torches burned in sconces at regular intervals: whole place seemed bathed in a smudged auburn glow. It glanced off the ocean, shifting like a living, breathing creature.

Regina swung her leg over Rocinante's back, dropping softly to the ground. Reins still in hand, she glanced between the buildings cautiously as she walked him through the narrow street. She gave a lingering look to a man in a naval uniform slumped outside a brewery, apparently unconscious, and then hurried past, pulling her cloak tighter around herself. She forced her head down, carrying on until she reached the waterfront.

The sea lapped gently against the stone and wood of the dock, shimmering in the light of the moon and the torches. Disbelief was mounting in her – but so was determination. She'd made it this far. She refused to fall at the final hurdle. Regina cast a look over the boats, skinny barges and hulking trading galleys, rocking in their lots, flags and sails rippling in the cool night air. She turned around, scanning the street. She assumed the inns right along the port would be where the best sailors were staying. So Regina drew in a breath and headed towards the first one her eyes settled on.

Muddy yellow light flooded from the windows and open doorway, raucous chatter of a dozen different conversations drowning out a distant, untuned lute playing somewhere inside. "You, lass," A voice snapped. Regina stared over sharply – a man was frowning in the doorway, cutting off the rectangle of light. He wiped his hands on his grimy apron. Regina tried not to wrinkle her nose. "You in or out?"

"Do you have anywhere to stable a horse?" Regina asked, forcing her voice to stay flat and impassive.

The man's brow furrowed as he stood there, studying her for a moment. Eventually he nodded. "'Round back. Rat'll take him for you –" He twisted to shout into the building. "Rat!" After a moment, a boy skidded to a breathless stop in the doorway, pulling a face as he waited for instructions. The first man nodded. "Take the lady's horse down to the stables, sharpish. And you'll be coming back immediately this time, mind."

"Yessir." The boy darted forward toward Regina, holding out his hands for the reins. I suppose this is it, then. Regina turned to her horse, reins still in her clammy hands, a hard feeling unfurling in her chest. She'd known when she set off – when she ran – that she'd be saying goodbye to everything. The meagre good with all the bad. Her home. Daddy. Rocinante. Thank you. She swallowed around the lump in her throat, running her fingertips over the horse's warm neck one last time before shaking her doubt away and handing the leather over to the boy. She watched him go.

"Now," The man fixed his dull grey stare on her again. "Will you be wanting a room?"

Regina breathed in, raised her chin and focused resolutely on the future. She walked closer, until the warmth spilling from the doorway touched her skin and she could smell the ale inside. Triumph was welling in her. "Not if tonight goes according to plan."

Inside, the common room was crowded and noisy, the air hot and thick. Regina wormed her way cautiously through the crammed tables, laughing men, arguments heating up. The stink of beer and onions and sweat seemed to settle on everything like dust. She found an empty seat at the bar, taking it self-consciously, glancing around. Her heart was racing erratically in her chest, heat crawling up her neck. It was the first time she'd ever been anywhere so... common. Regina swallowed, shaking the thought away. She had to stop thinking like a prince's daughter, like the fiancée of a king. That wasn't her anymore.

As of today, she had nothing more than any of these people... except education, intelligence and basic hygiene.

Regina politely declined the barmaid's offer of ale, instead fishing in her small bag for a coin to exchange for bread and cheese. She ate quietly observing the people around her, trying to find someone to fit what she was looking for. When the Dark... when he'd given her this idea, she thought it would be so simple. Take money and provisions, flee in the night, find the nearest dock, catch a ride to another land with a sailor and... And then she'd be free. In reality it was more difficult – and the bread was harder. She forced herself not to wrinkle her nose.

There was an older man sitting next to her, deep in conversation with a young lad. She hadn't been paying him much attention but the minute she caught the words my old ship her heart leapt and she was sitting up straighter to eavesdrop. She finished her coarse supper and summoned her courage. Now or never. She tapped him cautiously on his meaty shoulder. "Excuse me?" The man twisted around in his seat, eyes flickering over her. His mouth was twisted in a grim line. Regina breathed in sharply, refusing to be intimidated by any of this. "You're a sailor? Are you setting off on a voyage any time soon?"

He grunted. "Who's asking?"

Regina's blood froze for a second. "Just a traveller." She paused, carefully thinking through what she could say. "I'm looking for passage to another land. Any, it doesn't matter which. I have enough coin to pay my way."

She stared at him intently, orange light of the inn reflected in his watery blue eyes. She could see him contemplating. His eyes swept over her one more time before he cleared his throat and asked, with resignation, "How much?"

Wasn't she supposed to barter? That was how it worked with these peasant folk, wasn't it? She couldn't exactly negotiate if he knew exactly what she had from the start, that was the whole point. Regina sighed, annoyed, still daring to hope. She opened her mouth, about to just say and hope for the best when a warm hand clamped down hard on her shoulder. "Forgive me for prying, love, but you don't want to sail with this old rat. He'll swindle you out of your money before you can say Neverland."

Regina jumped, turning to glare at the newcomer. He was leaning against the bar with a smirk on his face that she already hated, eyebrow cocked with the kind of arrogance she never liked in princes at balls, let alone peasant strangers in taverns. Not that he was a peasant – Regina studied him carefully, noting the rings glinting on his fingers, the jewels strung around his neck. Too much leather, was her first thought, followed quickly by too much kohl. She cleared her throat, trying to sound like she knew what she was doing. "And who are you?"

"They call me Hook," He announced, turning to drop into a mock-bow. Regina stared. She could see why – the tatty lace cuff on his left sleeve dangled not around a hand, but a curving metal hook. It took a lot not to scoff. I do not want to be involved with anyone who names themselves after their disability. "Captain Hook, actually. Of the Jolly Roger." He flashed a smile, all teeth and stubble. "You may have heard of me."

Regina raised her eyebrows. She was hardly excited about the prospect of spending the next few days in this man's company, but she wasn't exactly in a position to be picky. "And you're offering to take me?"

"I never said that, love." Hook shot the first man a withering look. "Only that this scoundrel isn't worth your time. I've already got a trading galley with my Jolly Roger to look after, until I can find somewhere to stow it. Bloody Bluebird was more trouble than it was worth."

"Okay," She drew in a breath, sighed. God give me the strength. "Would you take me with you?" Regina paused, before launching into her whole speech and complete lack of an dignity. "You can drop me off at the first place you're stopping, it doesn't matter to me. I just need to get away. I can pay you, and –"

"Hook! Hook!" Regina spun around to stare at the same time as Hook. From a back doorway she hadn't noticed before, a portly little man in a red hat tearing between the tables, huffing, scarlet-faced. Hook seemed to straighten up, more alert. Like a dog hearing his name called. The man stumbled to a stop by them, breathless. "Blackbeard. Outside." He gasped, sucking air in frantically, wheezing between his words. "Angry. He's coming. We have – to go –"

"Blackbeard?" Regina exclaimed. She stared from Hook to the newcomer, gaping. Neither explained, or even acknowledged he cry. What is this? They were too busy exchanging their own meaningful, panicked glances. Her mind was buzzing, heart frantic inside her chest. Heat prickled across her face, anger and fear and confusion. "Who the hell are you?"

"I'm leaving. Now." Hook pushed through the bar chairs, wide eyes flashing. Then, as if as an afterthought, tossed a glance back at her. His shout was thick and rough, heavy with anger. "Are you coming or not?"

Regina's breath caught in her throat. She stared from Hook to the man in the red hat, the door she hadn't noticed. Her heart was racing, temples throbbing. Then she made a decision. She didn't really think too much about what would become the defining choice of her life – she just leapt from her chair and ran, worming through crammed tables and chairs, following the man's leather jacket out towards the dock, mind racing.

-0-

Her cabin was awash in the bright grey daylight. A slab of light crossed the crowded room to fall on the rough wooden boards, picking out all the swirling motes of dust hanging there. It was probably the only place she could relax; hung with a tapestry from Camelot, cluttered with jewels from Arendelle. Like most of the ship, the captain's cabin was filled with pieces of a dozen different cultures, souvenirs from a dozen different lands. The smell of old incense and cinnamon hung in the air. With the sound of the ocean rushing faintly all around, and the creaking of the old boat breaking waves, she could almost pretend everything was fine.

The captain was slouched in a plush chair, upholstered in purple Misthaven felt. Her chest felt heavy, and not just because she'd nearly emptied the bottle of rum clutched loosely in her fingers. She shifted, studiously scanning the sea chart in her lap. No use. She'd read the damn thing a thousand times anyway – there was nothing. Just a normal, useless map to nowhere. She sighed.

"Well, well, what's this, what's this?" A voice announced suddenly. The captain sighed heavier, annoyance tingling through her veins. A month ago, a week even, she'd have shouted at him, screamed, threatened him and meant it. A week ago, she had. Now she was just tired. One wrong lead too many. "The ruthless Captain Emma Swan, giving up?"

"I'll never give up." Emma warned, not looking at him. She was too used to the creature appearing suddenly on her ship by now. She shifted in her chair, raising her gaze to meet his. The Dark One stood in the centre of the room, stupid smug smile still fixed to his face. Her hands curled involuntarily into fists. "What do you want?" She demanded, nails digging into the skin of her palms.

Rumplestiltskin giggled. He looked no more human than the first time they'd met – she'd summoned him herself, she was such a stupid little kid – with his unnerving eyes and scaled skin, glinting when it caught the light. He took a step towards her desk, a clunky mahogany thing strewn with maps and charts, picking up a crystal paperweight and turning it absently between his fingers. "I don't want anything just yet, dearie. No, I'm just here to give you a warning."

"You've given me enough as it is!" Emma stared sharply over at him. She wished she didn't know him too well not to be shocked. She frowned, gaze flickering from him back down to the unhelpful lines of the chart in her lap. "I don't want anything from you."

"Well, that's unfortunate for you, because it's nearly here." He told her. Emma narrowed her eyes at him. Rumplestiltskin was grinning manically, eyes wide and sparkling with some kind of triumph. She had a bad feeling about this.

Emma's eyes tracked his, cautious. "What is?"

"Destiny, of course." The Dark One's lips twitched up into a parody of a smile.

A thick silence hung in the air for a moment.

"Yours or mine?" Emma challenged. Or his. She shook her loose blonde hair back from her face. The ship rocked slightly on a bigger wave. The sea was pretty calm today; it would be plain sailing all the way to their next wrong turn. She wanted to say something else, but the words caught on the lump in her throat and shrivelled up.

"Clever girl," Rumplestiltskin trilled, cocking his head. "Don't you think that all of our destinies are woven together? Tied up tight, like a fishing net." Emma didn't dignify him with an answer. She traced her finger lightly over the arm of her chair, focusing on keeping her breathing steady. "We're entwined, dearie. And today is the day another knot comes along to tangle with us."

"I don't –" Emma bit herself off, shaking her head. Why the hell am I humouring this madman?

"Oh, but you will, dearie." He nodded shortly, putting the crystal carefully back down on the desk. "Because today will... speed things up a bit, shall we say. You see, the girl will be here soon. You can't hope to move forward without her." Rumple spun on his heels, walking back towards Emma. "She has the gift; or should I say, brings out the gift. And I'll give you a spoiler –" He leaned closer, voice dropping to a mock-whisper. "It's not all for the boy."

"Don't talk about him!" Her voice rose with the anger, flashing through her blood. Emma didn't care if any of the crew heard – let them. Her stubby fingernails bit deeper into her palms.

"Temper, temper." Rumplestiltskin chided, smiling. "The charts you want are on the Bluebird, by the way. With the one-handed cockroach. Two knots north."

And with that, he vanished.

Emma's heart leapt. She knew better than to trust the imp by now, and yet... Mind racing, she jumped up from her chair, grabbing the brass spyglass from her desk and tearing out of her cabin, up the groaning wooden stairs two at a time. Emma broke out into the pale glaring sunlight, breathing in the tearing wind and the smell of salt.

All around her, men were rushing back and forth, shouting, talking, calling greetings to their captain. The blue-grey sky unfurled endlessly above her. Her hair whipped across her face, the wind stung her cheeks, the sound of the ocean spreading out in all directions was everywhere. She exhaled slowly, feeling her blood relax in her veins. She could feel a small smile twitch at the corners of her mouth despite herself – home. It gave her strength.

Emma hastened towards the bow, hair whipping around her, clothes rippling with cold fresh air. She nodded to several men as she passed without thinking. Her mind was buzzing. The Bluebird – stupid name for a ship, but what could you expect from a royal trading galley? Monarchs never knew how to have fun – God. She'd been after it for weeks, spent so much time chasing around its tail like an idiot. It was just like Hook to find it before her, though what he wanted with it she couldn't say. More sparkly things to make him look pretty.

She needed those maps. Those charts on board, she had to have them. The freezing air stung her skin, more invigorating than anything. Emma felt a smile crawling across her face. Maybe today was the day she finally got to run the one-handed bastard through. She raised the spyglass to her eye, staring through the scratched lens with her breath caught in her lungs. Seething, shimmering water spread out all around. This far from any ports or cities, the sea was more blue than green. The sense of endlessness, of true freedom was never any less astounding to her. The ocean nestled against the horizon, where the dripping red sun skulked behind the clouds. And sure enough, stark against the horizon, the outlines of two ships. A bigger one – the Jolly Roger – and beside it... Emma's heart sped up against her chest. "The Bluebird," She whispered, skin beginning to spark with live-wire anticipation.

Today was the day she'd finally have the charts. Triumph spread through her chest as the grin crept across her face. Of course she would. She was Captain Emma Swan.

She smirked, brass spyglass falling to her side. She raised her head against the tearing wind, striding back towards the wheel. "Set course due north! Free the canvas." Emma shouted. Her men stared up, squinting in the light. Her heart was beating steadily, strong and certain as the first day she'd walked across this deck as captain. The wind raised her voice high and tossed it away. "Today's the day we get back in the game."

Destiny, she thought scathingly. Bullshit. This is piracy.