A/N: This will be a collection of unconnected CS oneshots, all taking place on an alternate universe in which the curse never happened. This first one is rather long, but I had fun writing it and I hope you enjoy reading it!

Princess Emma has ninety nine problems.

And they all have to do with a single man:

Captain fucking Hook.

She has been sitting in on this beyond ridiculous war council for hours upon hours, reading letters from subjects begging for aid from a fearsome pirate, who is apparently as good as evading capture as he is ransacking port towns.

"It's the damn ship," Grumpy snaps, ignoring an admonishing glance from her mother. Emma grins- she's always loved the dwarves. They never held anything back for her sake. "The Jolly Roger is faster than any of our fleet's ships, and Hook isn't a fool. We can't pursue him like a normal pirate, because he isn't one."

"Then what do you suggest we do?" Granny pipes up from the other end of the table.

"We could offer him a place as a privateer," Snow offers.

"Why would he want to do that, though?" Emma finally asks, "He's the one winning this game. The only way he would ever give up his freedom is if he was losing." This earns her a proud smile from her father, and she sits a little straighter in her seat. "We need to make him think he's losing."

"How?" Grumpy asks.

"Find his weaknesses," Emma responds, "Exploit them, bit by bit, and make him start second-guessing himself. Wait for him to make a mistake. And when he does . . . pounce."

"It's a wonderful idea in theory, my dear," Granny says in an annoyingly placating tone, "But how would we do that?"

"What's his weakness?" Emma asks, unfazed.

There is no response. The council all exchange blank stares.

"Not much is known about him, Highness," Jiminy Cricket says, "He is new to our land."

"Then send someone in to get to know him," Emma replies, "It's simple."

"You think the man will take in a new crew member just like that?" Pinnochio snorts, "Emma, come on-"

"You're assuming I was referring to a man," Emma interrupts smugly. Snow frowns, catching on.

"Emma, no-"

"Hear me out, Mother-"

Charming interjects, "You are a princess, there is no way in hell that we will let-"

"Um, excuse me?!" Red shouts, "Yeah, um, not all of us have the whole family telepathy thing, so you mind telling the rest of the council what you're arguing about?"

Emma stares down her parents for a long moment, eyes aflame. "I have been trained in hand to hand combat, swordsmanship, archery, and knife-throwing," she says slowly, "I also know exactly what needs to be done for this to work."

"Emma-"

"I am well-versed in coding, and I can be completely trusted. But, most importantly- I know when I'm being lied to. I will be able to read him like the storybooks you used to read to me."

"Emma . . . " Snow begins, although Emma knows that she's already won.

""Here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to get onto his ship and make him need me so much, he'll tell me everything. And when he does, I'm going to lock him away forever." She smirks. "I'll pack tonight."

She arrives at the port where Hook is rumored to be docking accompanied only by Pinnochio. She had managed to convince her father to pull their forces temporarily from the small port and send them to one recently ravaged by the Captain himself. She knew that his next stop would be to refuel and let his crew rest.

. . . and possibly pick up a new crew member.

Kissing Pinnochio on the cheek and telling him she'll be in touch, Emma pulls her cloak tightly around herself and smirks. She has a feeling the Captain will very much like what she has underneath.

And she's not referring to the knives.

She ducks into the first bar she sees, pleased when she hears the roaring laughter from inside. It's dimly lit and it positively reeks, but Emma is far too exhilarated to be bothered.

She feels a grubby hand on the small of her back and immediately stiffens. "M'lassie looks lonely, all by's 'erself . . ." slurs a rum-scented voice from behind her. As his hand dips lower, Emma immediately whirls around, pulling one of her knives from a sleeve and pinning the man against the wall.

"You keep that up," she hisses, voice laced with venom, "And the organs making you act like a barbarian will no longer be attached to your body. Understand?"

"I'd listen to the lass," comes a smooth and accented voice from behind her. "She looks rather serious." She man squirms and nods quickly. Emma lets him go and allows herself a self-satisfied grin as he scurries off and disappears in a hoard of men at the bar. Emma turns to see who this new idiot is, and cannot contain a slight gasp of surprise.

Smiling at her with the brightest blue eyes she's ever seen, and looking far too handsome for his profession, is Captain Hook.

"Getting in on the action?" Emma snaps before she can help herself.

Dammit, I'm supposed to be charming.

Hook, however, merely grins, amused. "Coming to your aid, actually." Emma arches an eyebrow and smirks.

"Awfully chivalrous for a pirate," she comments.

"I may be a pirate, beautiful, but I'm always a gentleman," Hook murmurs, his tone husky and alluring. Emma's smirk becomes a smile. She's definitely going to enjoy this.

"So you say," Emma murmurs, slipping her knife back beneath her cloak. "But excuse me if I choose to believe you might have . . ." her eyes appraise his figure without shame, "-ulterior motives." Hook's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and his grin widens. Emma briefly wonders if she's supposed to be having this much fun.

"Maybe I do, love," he replies, "But maybe you do as well." His good arm wraps around her waist and pulls her into him, hand coming to rest on her hip. He leans in slowly, breath mingling with hers, and just as his lips are about to meet hers . . .

"Aren't you going to buy me a drink, first?" Emma breathes, lips faintly brushing his. He curses and backs away, stormy eyes meeting hers, not even bothering to mask the desire swimming in them.

"As you wish," he says finally, gesturing towards the bar. Emma thinks she hears him mutter, "Damn minx," and laughs.

Sitting down at the bar, she allows the Captain to order her and himself some rum, asking, "Don't you drink anything else?"

"I can be tempted," Hook replies easily, "But I do have a reputation to uphold."

"For drinking rum?" Emma asks, rolling her eyes.

He shrugs. "Pirate."

"So," Emma drawls, making her first move, "You're him, then? Hook?"

"Well I prefer Captain," he retorts, but smiles. "But yes, Captain Hook at your service." Emma bites her bottom lip and appraises him. "Like what you see, lass?"

"I might," she says with a wink, "But you haven't asked for my name yet."

"Will I know you long enough for it to matter?" he asks, eyes gleaming. Emma takes a swig of her rum.

"Well that's up to you, now isn't it, Captain," she replies with a smirk. "My name could be the most precious thing to ever cross your lips. You could whisper it into my hair, or scream it into a pillow. You could write it on a death warrant, or in a letter to your friends telling them about your new first mate. It could be your salvation, or it could be the end of you."

He'll be putty in my hands in no time.

"And what do you want from me?" Hook asks as she slides a small scrap of parchment bearing her name over to him, eyes daring him to open it. He does. "Emma?"

She leans into him, never breaking their now heated stare. "Show me the sea."

The black dress she wears under her cloak is backless, and the looks on the faces of the crew as Hook introduces her (minus the cloak) as his new guest are absolutely priceless. She can tell he is trying to keep his eyes off of her as she follows him around on the ship as if he doesn't have a woman trailing him.

She's positively dripping sex.

And she can tell that no matter how much he's trying to resist until he gets the upper hand, she knows his resolve is crumbling.

She eventually gets bored of watching him marching around and giving commands to the crew, so she wanders over to the helm of the ship, where a stubby man in a bright red cap is steering. His eyes widen when he spots her.

"Isn't the Captain supposed to be steering the ship?" Emma questions. "Emma," she says, by means of introduction.

"S-smee," the man stutters. "And, um, yes and no." Emma arches a questioning eyebrow. "He does usually steer, but sometimes he likes to go around and make sure the crew is, uh . . ."

"Not passing out drunk?"

"Well . . . yes." Emma laughs.

"Is it always you, or can anyone take over?"

"Just me," Smee says proudly, "Don't think the Cap trusts any of the men to do the job better than me." Emma smiles. She likes this guy.

"So do you know where we're heading?" she asks. "A port town, or maybe a-"

"I wouldn't wear that dress and then go wandering alone, lass," interjects a voice from behind. She doesn't turn, already knowing who the snarky warning is coming from. She feels the cool metal tip of the hook trace her spine and stop at the small of her back, and does her best to breathe evenly.

She fails.

"You might tempt someone," Hook continues, his face having made its way to her ear, breath tickling the skin there.

"Maybe that's what I want," Emma murmurs, angling her head to meet his heated gaze as he presses against her back. Smee awkwardly excuses himself and walks away.

"You're scaring off me'crew," Hook murmurs into her hair.

"Their Captain can't seem to get enough of me though," she replies cheekily.

"Says the woman who followed me around for half of the morning."

"I was curious."

"About staring?" She shrugs.

"You wear tight black leather, you leave yourself open to being stared at."

Hook chuckles. "Well in my defense, love, I usually don't have lasses aboard the ship. They tend to bring me bad luck." His eyes darken slightly, and Emma decides she'd be wise not to prod.

She makes steady progress after two weeks at sea, not a day going by without brushing against Hook or teasing him about something trivial. Eventually she abandons the revealing dresses for more comfortable attire, once she figures out it's not her body alone that has Hook so captivated. Slowly, she begins to get some sort of insight as to what he's doing in her kingdom.

He's after something- some sort of object. Every time she listens in on a meeting with his crew, he tells them to search carefully before taking what they want. She isn't able to gather much more information than that.

They stop twice- once to pick up a few handymen, and for Emma to do a little shopping with some gold she procured from a sailor who thought she could spend the night with him for a price.

(After she had knocked him out cold, Hook had sent him adrift in a lifeboat and told her to keep the gold.)

The second time they stop, Hook tells Emma to stay below deck. She hears the terrified screams of the townsfolk, and disobeys, wandering into the town to try and help anyone she can. She sees a pirate roughly slam a sobbing woman to the ground, but before she can get to them Hook appears and punches the man right in the temple, knocking him out cold. He then turns to the woman and helps her up, before snatching her satchel and leaving her behind.

Emma runs after him, not knowing what else to do, and finds him in the burning wreckage of what used to be some merchant's tent. He's got his hook pressed against the merchant's neck, and is screaming. Emma reaches for her dagger, prepared to intervene.

Hook throws the man to the ground and turns away, looking beyond frustrated, spotting her, standing there in shock.

Why is that man not dead? He's a witness. A liability.

Hook storms towards her and grabs her by the arm, pulling her to him.

"I told you to stay below deck on the bloody ship."

"I heard commotion," she deadpans, unafraid. His eyes narrow.

"Are you armed?" She arches an eyebrow.

"When am I not?" He manages a chuckle at that, letting her go.

"Get back to the Roger, lass. We'll be leaving soon."

Father,

I am enjoying my time out at sea. The weather is wonderful- the coasts are golden, and it's as far from the Evil Queen's dark realm as could be, so that's a plus. I got to go to town recently, it's some kind of weaving town, and a friend of mine bought me a lovely new cloak, which I am wearing now. Mother will love it, it's golden and it shimmers in the hot sunlight. The town is as beautiful as ever too. Not sure about the second stop, though. Still haven't quite found what I'm looking for. The crew is amazing, Father. They are polite, although I suspect some of them wouldn't stand against you in a swordfight. I wish you could come aboard, you'd love it. Well, I have to get back above deck, I've been tasked with hoisting the colors when ships pass by.

Much love, Emma

She sends the message before wandering down to Hook's cabin to toy with him a little bit. He's sitting at his desk, sorting through several scraps of paper. She clears her throat to alert him to her presence, and he turns, putting the papers away in a drawer.

"You're getting better at sneaking up on me, Emma," he compliments, "You used to lumber through my ship like a lost child and now . . ."

"Now I just lumber with a purpose," Emma finishes with a laugh, temporarily forgetting that she's supposed to be some sort of seductress and letting herself just enjoy his company.

When she had first boarded his ship, she had expected to find him a ruthless, bloodthirsty monster. And she knows he can be without compassion or mercy, especially when he's angry. She pities anyone who gets caught in his wrath. But the more time she spends on the ship, the more she finds herself forgetting. For an hour or two, she'll climb up the mast and sit in the crow's nest, staring out the sea with a large smile.

Sometimes, she swears she can sense Hook watching.

But somewhere along the line, between their first meeting and now, the sexual tension she has capitalized on has deepened into something far more complicated. She finds herself thinking of him as a friend, smiling when he looks her way . . . it's probably the worst mistake she's ever made, but she's grown attached to him. She knows he can sense the turmoil inside her, but he says nothing about it.

"Is there something you wanted?" Hook asks, breaking her from her reverie. She blinks rapidly, her words and reason for seeking him out in the first place caught in the back of her throat.

"At the town," she begins slowly, struggling with how to phrase her question, "You had your hook at the merchant's neck."

"Aye," he concedes.

"You could have killed him." Hook's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "But you didn't. And since he's alive, he can tell my-um, well, the king's men who you are and where you're going. You make it easier to track yourself, and why? To spare the life of a total stranger?"

"Are you chastising me, love?" Hook asks.

"No," Emma responds immediately, "I just want to know why." Hook stares at her for a long moment, an internal struggle echoing in his eyes.

Finally, after a long pause, "I've seen much death in my life. I'm not too keen on seeing more."

Emma doesn't know what the hell motivates her to say, "Pirates see death all the time. And I doubt you're the exception."

"What are you implying?" Hook growls, eyes dark.

"It's not just death you disdain," Emma observes softly. "It's murder." Hook's eyes meet hers, neither one wanting to be the first to look away. "Listen, Hook," she begins, "You and I, we understand each other. And I . . . "

"You know about the scars thoughtless murder leaves behind," he finishes. Emma's eyes widen. "You're an open book, Emma," he explains with the same ease she had when saying that they understood each other, "You wouldn't care so much about this if it didn't drive you in any way." He stares at her for a long moment, brows furrowed. "Her name was Milah," he says finally. "She was killed in front of my eyes, and I wasn't able to save her." His eyes close and his hand clenches into a fist. "I would never put another man through the agony of being a helpless observer of murder."

Emma stands speechless before him, hardly believing that he's trusted her with this. His eyes open and he looks up at her.

"Graham," she whispers finally. "His name was Graham."

She leaves, then, not wanting to emotionally compromise herself any more than she has tonight. She has to write her father again.

There's been a slight change of plans.

It's not until the next night, when she's exploring the ship (having chosen a pair of trousers and a shirt carelessly stolen from his chest) that she realizes just how insane she's driving the man in the past few weeks. And how much she's overestimated herself.

She's trying to find herself something to snack on, and, being too proud to ask for directions, is stumbling through the lantern-lit corridors of the ship, staring down any crew member who dares to ogle her for more than one second.

He comes out of nowhere, shoving her against the wall and pinning both of her arms above her head with his good hand. His entire body presses her against the wall, and she struggles to not let him feel her erratic heartbeat. His forehead presses against hers but he doesn't kiss her. Not quite yet.

"I would think you'd want to do this in your quarters," Emma quips softly, arching her body into his and grinning at his growl in response. "But I'm flexible." She wonders when she decided to turn back into the soulless seductress, but has a more . . . pressing issue to deliberate, so she ignores the change and just rolls with it.

"Good to know," Hook whispers into her lips, "Princess."

Oh shit.

Her body freezes, and Hook knows he's got her. His hook trails up her side and traces her collarbone lightly before coming to rest at her neck.

"How long have you known?" Emma whispers. Hook leers at her.

"Since you slipped me that piece of paper with your name. It may be common in these realms, but a woman with your beauty and name who just happened to be at a port ridiculously unguarded? Lass, I may be a scoundrel, but I am no fool."

"Then why keep me here?" Emma asks, "Why not hold me for ransom?"

Why am I giving him ideas?

"I liked you." He grins. "I was going to string out our lovely game as long as I could until I knew what you wanted from me. Well, beautiful, time's up. What do you want?"

"That list is long," Emma growls. "Now let me go."

"Tell me," he growls, "Or you'll be sent back to your precious father in pieces." She shudders against her own will at his icy tone, and upon searching his eyes, sees that his fury will almost certainly drive him to fulfill that promise. Fine then, he'll get the truth. She hopes he'll regret asking.

"You're tearing my kingdom apart," Emma hisses, "You're looking for something. I want to know what it is." Hook's eyebrows raise.

"That's the point of this entire charade?" he asks. "Why not just ask me when we first met?"

"That wasn't the original plan," Emma confesses, "I was supposed to find out some sort of weakness and lead you to my father's forces." She doesn't know why she's telling him her entire plan, but she can't seem to stop talking. "But things changed."

"How?"

"I discovered that your legends are far crueler than you are," she murmurs softly, "And I also now know that you aren't just pillaging for the hell of it." Her sincere smile becomes a smirk as she remembers her true purpose. Hook sees the change as well.

"I sense a deal coming on."

Emma's smirk widens. "I will convince my parents to put all of our resources into finding whatever you wish to find. When we do find it and give it to you, you must promise to leave my kingdom and . . . and never come back." She chooses to ignore the empty feelings that accompanies the idea of never seeing him again.

"Ah, but won't you miss me, lass?" Damn that man and his intuition.

"Not in the slightest," she replies, doing her best to seem sincere. His eyes darken, but his smirk stays in place as he releases her arms and backs away.

"I'll take your deal," he says finally. "On one condition."

"What?" she asks, relief and elation evident in her voice.

"I don't need a fleet at my command. Just you." Emma's heart skips a beat. "Finish this with me, Princess." He holds out his good hand as an offering and a promise.

Emma takes it without hesitation. Oh, how the tables have turned.

"Aye-aye, Captain."

"And you know how that story ends," Emma says softly, stroking her young son's hair. Young Henry looks up at her with bright, blue eyes. "We found what he was looking for. And he stuck to his end of the bargain. He left."

"Where do you think he is now?" Henry asks, eyes gleaming.

"I don't know," Emma answers honestly. "Neverland, I suspect." Or whichever realm Rumpelstiltskin is in.

Henry hesitates, snuggling closer to her before asking, "Will he ever come back?" Emma pulls him in even closer, hugging him tightly before letting go and rising from his bed.

"I don't know," she says, and the slight dimming in her son's eyes kills her. "But I do know that wherever he is, he loves you very much. And whether or not he finds his way back to us, it won't change the fact that I love you, munchkin."

"I love you too, Mom," Henry replies as she tucks him in and kisses the top of his head. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

Emma finds her mother waiting for her at the door, a concerned expression on her face. "That bedtime story took an awfully long time," she comments. Emma sighs.

"Henry asked where his father was." Snow's eyes widen.

"Oh, Emma," she murmurs sympathetically, pulling her in for a tight hug. "What did you tell him?"

Emma pulls out of the tight embrace. "The truth." Minus a few details, of course. Such as the night before they found the dagger, when Hook had asked her if she ever planned to follow through on her teasing of him after a lot of rum. And the night before the Jolly Roger docked at the palace, and Emma had barged into his cabin and told him she hated goodbyes. The way he had kissed her. Held her, whispered her name in her ear as she finally gave him what she had been teasing at for so long.

She wonders where the father of her son is.

Realms away at sea, a solitary pirate stands at the helm of his ship with a bean in his hand, eyes on the horizon.

He smiles.

"Do you think it was the right thing to do?" Snow asks, "You know he's never coming back."

Emma doesn't reply, eyes drifting to the window and looking out to sea. Snow knows about the details she had kept from Henry. She knows all about her and Hook. Everything . . . except for his departing words. The words that had spurred her to tell Henry the full story of how she met his father instead of some lie about a heroic sailor who had died in battle.

"Keep an eye on the horizon, love. I'm not done with you yet."

She smiles.

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