#i would love the adventuring pack and spice rack thanks

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt 167 prt 1

167

Having Coran come, both Lance and Curtis were now asleep on the sofa. With a little quintessence manipulation, Curtis was asleep in moments, Coran feeling it the best option in light of his episode during the night. Lance’s quintessence had been manipulated too, though Coran had done that for pain reasons. Massaging Lance’s lower back, the sounds the vampire made verged on pornographic as the pain was eased leaving Lance falling asleep naturally against him. Keith cuddling him close, knowing he was going to be sad about Curtis leaving with Shiro and Coran after what Lance would deem a short visit. It was enough to make a man’s head ache, though that might also be due to a lack of sleep and paint fumes from getting a bit carried away with his brother and their quest for perfectly painted walls.

Sitting on the coffee table, Shiro had his head in his hands. Matt hadn’t teased him at all, and without Matt’s teasing things felt tense. Keith wished he knew how to break the tension, yet he also knew Shiro might just snap if one of them tried to. Rieva had gone for a run to work off her anger over the situation. Like him, she wasn’t so much mad at Curtis, just more shocked none of them had heard him make such a mess. The blood had stained, ruining Lance’s kitchen table. Lance assured him it’d happened before and he’d take care of it, but they wouldn’t have to take care of it if the demon wasn’t so close to the surface thanks to fucking Honerva. She was just the gift that kept on giving, even from the grave.

Curtis blamed himself entirely, yet remembered nothing about being in the kitchen and destroying anything. Krolia had it from Lance, but everything in the fridge had been coated with blood, the only things surviving were the things inside the containers. Forgetting that she’d made Lance a cup of tea, his boyfriend was spared as Keith’s caffeine deprived brain had him scull back the tea. It wasn’t until he’d drained the mug that he found it was both tea and salt had been added instead of sugar. His mother needed reading lessons from what he could tell. The sugar lived in the sugar canister that clearly read “Sugar”. She would have had to move away from the sugar to find the cooking salt in the spice rack. Keith couldn’t be completely angry at her. She’d totally stepped up. Calmly they’d cleaned the kitchen to as close to Lance’s standards as they could get it, happily pottering around in a way that reminded him of Mami. When he thought like that, it only made sense that Lance would turn to her for maternal comfort. Part of him absolutely hated cleaning up Curtis’s mess, but for him to be there doing it really did show him that Lance could turn to him and that’s all he wanted.

“We should leave”

Shiro’s words hurt. His brother sounded defeated. Manipulating Curtis’s quintessence had been at Curtis’s request. The man didn’t trust himself to be awake, though Lance kept trying to tell him that these things happen. Matt backed him up over how easy it was to let your ego slip and do something you didn’t mean to, but for Curtis it seemed to be the ultimate betrayal to ever do anything against Lance. Lance hadn’t had the best start with Curtis, they both thought the other one hated them and Keith clearly remembered how upset that made his boyfriend. Now the pair were as thick as thieves. They’d both tried to protect each other in an impossible situation. A situation he still hadn’t brought any closer to a resolution for Lance as he still hadn’t let him go to the house.

Maybe it was the time with him mum spent cleaning, but it stirred up the memory of his first kill. He’d wanted to go back. He’d forgotten about it seeing how many times he’d had to kill since. Or maybe it was the way Lance looked at his kitchen once it’d been cleaned, relief like a burden lifted making his boyfriend smile.

“I think that is a very good idea number one. To think the demon would act so violently in the presence of kin. Had I known, I would have come myself with you”

Keith didn’t get the “kin” bit. Was it because demons came from hell and Lance had a close connection with the darkness and death? Sighing to himself more than anything, he replied

“You didn’t. None of us did. Look, Lance gets it, and if he wasn’t pregnant I would be okay with you guys staying... but when I think about him hurting Lance I can’t. Not just because of Lance and our twins, but because Curtis would never forgive himself. I’m sorry, Shiro. You’ve been so patient with Lance...”

“I get it. I wouldn’t want a demon around my pregnant boyfriend either”

Shiro sounded bitter, Keith’s heart hurting a fresh for his brother

“It’s not... you guys are never not welcome here. Curtis isn’t in a good place mentally and I don’t want him going through something worse. Coran, will the summoning still happen?”

“Three days time. I’ve cleared the lowest level of VOLTRON. The seals and charms are in place, yet there’s an ingredient or two that are still brewing”

“Can we be there?”

Coran shook his head

“I’m sorry. The only ones allowed in the chamber will be Allura, myself, Curtis and Shiro”

His brother hadn’t told him that bit

“Shiro?”

“He will anchor Curtis’s soul to the realm as the demon is summoned. For someone like you and Lance to be there would upset your bonds with each other. You may stay on an upper floor during the summoning, but I cannot allow you down to that level”

“Is that because you keep saying Lance and I are soulmates?”

“Yes. Your souls are so tightly linked it is very remarkable. I do not take manipulating his quintessence today lightly. Even though it alleviated his pain, there is a still a slight disturbance. You surely noticed the physical changes you have gone through by his side”

“The physical?”

“Increased stamina. Overly protective. You notice his scent that others would miss. The love you share is woven down to the base of your very being. All of you are remarkably connected with your quintessence. Even you Shiro. The demon’s own quintessence is leaking freely. We will grasp it by this quintessence and pull it into our plain before banishment to the demon realm”

Hang on

“Is it safe to do that? Won’t Shiro be hurt?”

Coran huffed, hand coming up to brush his long orange hair back from his face with a smirk

“A low level demon holds nothing against a fae”

Did Coran just totally brag about being a fae? Keith didn’t know what to say about that. Coran was cooky and hooky, but all he ever bragged about was Allura and Lance... and his adventures in his youth

“No need to stare, number two! We’ll get this pesky demon dealt with, then start planning the wedding!”

“Who’s wedding? What?”

“Shiro’s and Curtis’s of course! Now, we really should leave. I estimate Curtis won’t rouse for several more hours, plenty of time to get located in VOLTRON, all nice and snug as a bug. Oh, I have something for Lance the next time you two pop in!”

Coran stated Shiro’s sudden up coming wedding with such certainty that Shiro gaped at him. Keith felt like saying “Welcome to the club”, where all their friends were off in la-la land and people suddenly got married after ridiculously short spans dating. Instead the hunter carefully shook Lance’s shoulder

“Babe, Shiro and Curtis are leaving. You wanna say bye, right?”

Lance nodded as he yawned. His boyfriend tangling himself in the blanket as he moved suddenly to hug Shiro, half falling off the sofa as he did. Sucking his lips in, Keith bit the top one lightly to keep from laughing as Lance all but climbed up Shiro’s legs before wrapping his arms around his waist. Shiro’s expression was a kind of resigned sigh if a sigh could be an expression

“Lance?”

“He’ll be alright... I’m not mad at him, but if you need anything you better call me or I’m going to be sad”

Shiro’s moves were jerky as he placed his hand on Lance’s shoulder

“I’m sorry...”

“Don’t you dare apologise. He didn’t mean to and I won’t have anyone saying he did on purpose. We’re a pack and our pack mate just needs a little more attention right now”

Shiro tilted his head, Keith snorting at his brother who seemed a few moments behind as his brain short circuited over “wedding”

“He means we’re family. And family rely on each other. He’s right though. If you don’t ask for help or call me, I’m throwing all your bobble heads out”

That got Shiro kicked into gear. Sliding his hand down, his brother leaned forward to hug Lance the best he could

“Thank you”

“Curtis is “Dude-bro” for life. So are you. I wish you guys could have stayed longer, but right now Curtis can’t handle the stress and paranoia. Make sure you tell him I won’t watch any of our shows without him. We’re going to have a marathon once that demon fucks off”

Shiro chuckled

“I’ll be sure to”

“And make sure he knows that I’m not mad. I know I told him and I’ll keep telling him, but it’s really important you remind him that none of us are. I know from personal experience”

“I’ll make sure he knows”

“And make sure you eat. And shower. And sleep. And call Keith. Like three times a day”

Lance was getting bossy in all the right ways. His tone taking on the tone he usually used when scolding them for their misbehaviour

“I will. You make sure you get some rest”

“I’m gonna. Gonna make Keith take a nap too. I want to work on the nursery with you guys properly... and get photos of uncle Shiro hard at work”

“Sounds good, kiddo. We’ll see you in a few days”

“I really wish you didn’t have to go”

“I know. Next time we’ll stay longer”

“Good. Okay, babe, I think I’m stuck between your brother’s legs”

That wasn’t happening. Lance was his boyfriend and he wasn’t sharing. Shuffling forward on the sofa, Keith pulled on Lance’s shoulders, Lance letting himself be pulled up as he put a little vampire strength in it, winding up in Keith’s lap suddenly. Leaning back, Lance sighed at him

“Sorry. My strength is playing up again”

“Don’t be sorry. Aren’t you going to say goodbye to the others?”

“Yeah. Thanks for coming out Coran, and Krolia, thanks for helping with the kitchen. You’re welcome to come stay any time you want to”

“Don’t tell her that, she might never leave”

Lance giggled at him. His boyfriend was definitely the wrong side of sleepy

“That’s okay with me. She’s part of our pack too. And so’s Coran”

Patting Lance’s leg, Keith felt he should probably be polite

“I know. Let me up and I’ll show them to the door”

“No need, number two. We’ll see ourselves out. Make sure you two take it easy. You’ll be back at work next week, and I’m afraid you’ll have to hit the ground running”

Keith groaned deeply. Work. Ugh. Lance shook his head at him

“None of that. I’m proud of you, babe. The world needs a hot grizzled manly hunter out there”

With his heart going stupid, Keith blushed hard. Mouth opening and closing as he didn’t know what to say. He was having a thought and having a thought that meant having to do a thing that wasn’t doing the do. He just knew it felt like the right thing to do... but first he needed to do the sleep.

*

“Baaaaabe. Babe, wake up...”

Scrunching his eyes tightly closed, Keith tried not to be awake. He’d been awake with his eyes closed for a little while now. Hand resting on Lance’s belly as his boyfriend kissed his cheek. Tomorrow was the doing day. Feeling Lance’s hand slide down to his underwear, being awake didn’t seem like such a bad idea anymore. Wrapping his arm around Lance, he hugged his boyfriend close, Lance laughing softly at him

“Having fun?”

“Mmm... I want to suck your dick. But only if you’re down for that”

“I think I’m up for that”

They’d both felt down with Shiro, Curtis, Krolia, and Coran leaving. Rieva apologised for her aggression, but the mood kind of felt somber all day. Writing off the day they’d gotten pizza from Sal’s before both couples curled up in the living room for some mindless TV in the middle of the night. The following morning Lance was on the phone to Hunk when Keith finally forced himself out of bed. Somehow the pair had managed to spend the last two hours on the phone. Hunk had everything explained to him, Lance’s mood much better for it. Their walking ray of sunshine had brought comfort food, the day spent having some seriously serious gaming in which Lance took no prisoners murdering zombies, while Keith seemed to only get himself murdered in game. Keith knew most of it was for his benefit, seeing he really couldn’t stop thinking about Shiro, and appreciated the thought. Thinking about what he had planned, Keith had coaxed Lance to bed early, now he seemed to be paying the price.

Smiling at him, Lance moved to straddle his waist. Normally he was the one initiating things, when Lance wasn’t in heat, but Lance could be a horny little shit and he loved when he was. God. This was most definitely the best way to wake up. Moving his hands to his boyfriend’s hips, Lance leaned down to kiss him, Keith having to lean up thanks to his boyfriend’s belly. Deciding three quick pecks were enough, his boyfriend drew back with a smirk. Running his finger down Keith’s chest, Lance pouted at him

“Babe, if I told you you had a nice body, would you hold it against me?”

“I don’t know... Are you a parking ticket? Because you’ve got fine written all over you”

“I hope you know CPR, you’re taking my breath away”

“Babe, you’re already dead”

Lance sighed as he shook his head, that pout coming back

“Here I was trying to be alluring. Now you’re saying I’m a stiff with a stiffy?”

“Yep... but your arse is seriously out of this world”

“Keep that up and you’re going the right way for a spanked bottom, Keith Kogane”

Raising an eyebrow, he could kind of support that

“Do you promise?”

“What am I going to do with you?”

“Suck me off?”

“Maybe I’ll eat you out... take my time to enjoy this meal beneath me”

“Oh, so now I’m a snack?”

“I’ll snack on you!”

Leaning down, Lance bared his fangs. Keith laughing as his boyfriend pretended to be a mindless vampire, nomming at thin air

“Babe! Babe... I thought you wanted to be sexy”

Pulling back, Lance nodded at him. Keith trying to compose himself

“I do. I’ve wanted to do this for a while now”

“What?”

“This. Us. You beneath me...”

Oh. Keith blinked, not sure he was getting what Lance wasn’t saying. Did his boyfriend want to fuck him and was settling with sucking him off? Or was Lance content with sucking him off? He didn’t bottom because he didn’t enjoy the sensation. Lance was pretty content bottoming... more than content, yet he also knew his boyfriend had other needs. Not to just be fucked but to be the one doing the fucking. That’s why the pocket pussy lived within hands reach. It was their compromise. Silently agreed upon to help Lance cope with his vampire ego’s desire to be on top.

“Babe, there’s no need to look so confused. If you’re not into it, that’s fine”

“No. No... I’m definitely into it, and I’d like to be in you... I just... Do you want me to do anything?”

His words failed to say what he wanted them to say

“I want to touch you. That’s what I want”

“But what about you?”

“I want tonight to be about you. I want you to fall apart and I want to taste you...”

Keith liked when pleasure was a two way street. Sometimes it was about just scratching that itch, yet even then they never left each other wanting. He didn’t feel ashamed in loving Lance, nor ashamed of loving Lance. Unlike Coran he couldn’t believe in soulmates. But he did believe that Lance was the only one he wanted for the rest of his life. And shit if his brain power hadn’t shorted out at his boyfriend’s words

“I better not keep you waiting then”

“Thanks for the meal!”

His boyfriend was an idiot.

His boyfriend was an idiot with a very skilled mouth... and Keith was an idiot lost to his skills. Tearing off Keith’s underwear, literally, Lance hooked his legs over his shoulders and buried himself between them without a moments hesitation. Lance might be a good God fearing vampire, but the things he did were utterly sinful. Starting off by sucking him, Keith moaned as Lance hollowed his cheeks, taking him right to the base like he was born to. His lover’s hands on his legs, lulling him into total bliss before his eyes were shooting wide at the thumb rubbing against his opening. Chuckling around his dick, his boyfriend pulled off leaving a trail of saliva and precum the tip of Keith erection to Lance’s perfect little lips

“Relax for me, baby. I’m going to eat you out”

That didn’t require a thumb there. For a moment Keith wondered if he should maybe be ashamed with his legs hanging open, leaving everything on display... but this was Lance, who’d seen it all before. With a single stiff nod of permission, his boyfriend smiled down at him

“Don’t worry, babe. I’m going to eat you out then suck you off for dessert. You taste so fucking good... just relax for me and let me take care of you... look at you... you’re so damn beautiful, babe”

Fisting their sheets, Keith lost it. The heat pooled in his belly was bordering painful. His dick dribbling precum that pooled at the bend of his body. Lance’s tongue working the taunt rim of his opening, no where he ever expected to enjoy a tongue so much. The pleasure building so badly that he knew a single touch against his straining erection would have him coming apart. This was what Lance did to him. He drew out all his deepest carnal desires and stripped his human form to that of the hungry beast inside. Damn... that tongue... he didn’t care that Lance’s teeth would occasionally press against his skin when that tongue was magical

“Babe... fuck... I want to come”

The hunger in Lance’s eyes sent a shiver down his spine as his boyfriend pulled back

“You can come any time you want”

He was wired too, but that wiring wasn’t quite there with being eaten out tonight. Underneath the fog in his brain, he kept thinking about Lance’s needs. His wishes... how maybe if his tongue felt so fucking good that he could cry, then maybe something bigger wouldn’t be bad

“I want you...”

“You want me to do what?”

“Touch me more...”

Lance nodded, moving Keith’s legs apart a little more before sinking his mouth back over Keith’s dick. Keith’s hand shot to grab Lance by the hair. The muscles of his inside thighs and stomach jumping and twitching as he tried not to come

“Not like that... in me... I want to... try”

Lance backed off completely. Keith’s orgasm still so damn close that it hurt, but his boyfriend’s behaviour had him confused. Did Lance not want to try... that?

“Babe?”

“Sorry... I’m... you want to...?”

“I know you get urges too...”

Those were the wrong words. Lance immediately frowning at him. Why did his scent have to be damn addictive? And so very telling?

“I want to make you feel good... I don’t want you forcing yourself because you some how think I want it”

“It’s not that... I think I want to try that again with you”

Lance didn’t seem convinced. Running his hands down Keith’s thighs, the movement nearly pushed him to coming

“Not tonight. Tonight is about you”

“I think...”

“No more thinking. Let me make you come”

“But...”

“I know what you like, babe. Let me make you come in my mouth”

Shifting back, Lance lifted his legs again, sinking down around Keith’s erection with his eyes closed. He only got as far as drawing back before Keith was coming. Orgasm smashing through him as his toes curled as he grunted in pleasure.

Sucking him dry, Lance used his tongue to make sure he was completely clean before lowering his shaking legs. Climbing up to slump beside him, Keith’s chest heaved as he caught his breath, totally ready for a nap now. Staring at the ceiling, his left hand came up rest on his chest, heart racing like he’d run a marathon

“Shit... that... mouth of yours...”

Lance snorted at him, his baby bump pressing against the hunter’s arm. His bump... he loved that bump

“Feel good?”

“Criminally”

Lance sighed lightly as he kissed Keith’s shoulder

“I love you. You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever met”

Moving his arm, Keith wasn’t sure what he was trying to do with it seeing it was trapped against him. His hand brushed over Lance’s tenting sweats, but his boyfriend didn’t react

“Lay back...”

“‘Nah, I’m okay like this”

Lance was turning down a blow job? Not to brag but his boyfriend loved his blow jobs

“Babe...?”

“Not tonight. Tonight I wanted to touch you”

“Maybe I want to touch you?”

“It’s fine. I want to snuggle with you”

Okay. He could snuggle... he could also down a litre of water right about now. He was thirsty as heck

“I’m thirsty... I don’t know if my legs are going to hold me up”

“I can get you some water... I don’t mind. Actually, hold on and I’ll be right back”

Walking around with an erection didn’t feel great. Keith had plenty of experience with that... as Lance moved away from him, Keith propped himself up. He didn’t want to force Lance into anything, but he didn’t know why he didn’t want him to touch him too. His lover hadn’t even taken his pants off. Even when Keith’s lavished attention on Lance’s body, his boyfriend then insisted on lavishing him as much in return... unless he’d fallen asleep right after coming. Now he had a conundrum and no dust bunnies to run the wheel until a logical thought was churned out.

Coming back to bed, Lance smiled at him as he passed him the glass of water. Keith had heard the toilet flush, his boyfriend never got a break from having to pee

“Thanks, babe”

“You’re welcome”

Leaning over, Lance kissed his forehead. Keith very much naked on display, yet Lance wasn’t looking. Getting up from the side of the bed, his boyfriend walked around, rather than simply climbing over him to get to his side. Pulling the covers up, he left Keith to cool. Still heated and sweaty from being blown into the next dimension. Wriggling himself into place, Lance wrapped his arm around him.

Placing the glass on the bedside table, Keith slid down into his spot, kissing the top of Lance’s head

“You good, babe?”

“Mhmm... brushed my teeth”

Lance tilted his head up, blowing across Keith’s face, before nuzzling into his chest

“See, minty fresh”

“I can tell... you sure you’re okay?”

“Mhmm...”

Keith tried to let it slide, but he couldn’t

“Babe... why didn’t you want to do me?”

Lance sighed at him, fingers sliding up to sit lightly curled on Keith’s stomach

“I wanted to make you feel good. You don’t like bottoming and that’s okay”

“But I wanted to try it”

“And I wanted to focus on making you feel good... did I not make you feel good?”

Shit. Abort. Things were going sideways

“No. No, babe. It felt very very good. It felt so good that I thought maybe I wouldn’t mind something bigger”

“Mmm, I know one finger is your limit... I don’t mind”

“But you didn’t want me to...”

“Keith, I love you. I love you and I’m sleepy. I wanted to touch you. I wanted to make you feel every bit as loved as you are”

“But I love sucking your dick”

[pocket-anon]

The Long Way Home (2/10)

On to Chapter 2!  Thank you all so much for the lovely feedback, reblogs, kudos, and comments you left me on Chapter 1!  I hope you continue to enjoy this story - I promise there’s a lot more of... well, EVERYTHING, to come.  Chapter 1 was more of an introductory chapter; the rest are considerably longer, so tuck in!

As always, thanks to my beta, @captainstudmuffin, and to @lifeinahole27, @clockadile, and @ladyciaramiggles for their additional feedback.  Additional thanks to my wonderful CSBB artists, @waiting-for-autumn and @giraffes-ride-swordfishes for providing some gorgeous artwork to accompany this fic!  Links to their illustrations of certain scenes (*) will be in the text - go show them some love!

Find it on AO3.  Nautical term glossary here.

Missed a chapter?  Get caught up here.

Summary:  After an unnaturally long life fraught with personal tragedy, Killian Jones has become known throughout the realms as the infamous Captain Hook, an opportunistic ne’er-do-well and one of the most formidable pirates to ride the waves.  When he crosses paths with a mysterious young woman with no memory of who she is or how she arrived there, he recognizes the chance to claim a monetary reward that will constitute his biggest score yet.  But a journey across the world to get her home leads to a series of adventures that reveal that her value lies in far more than gold and jewels.  A Captain Swan Anastasia AU - sort of.  (Captain Swan Enchanted Forest AU.  Romance, Adventure, & Eventual Smut.  Rated E.)

Warning: Brief but graphic depictions of violence, peripheral character death, and smut.

Hook spends the following morning haggling over the sale of the Jolly Roger’s loot – barrels of tea leaves, casks of fine spices, bottles of expensive perfumes, bolts of cloth, and loose gems they’ve taken off a handful of merchants over the last few weeks.  It’s their usual routine in port to sell the spoils first to refill the coffers and empty the hold and then to resupply shortly before departing.  Much to his relief, Blackbeard’s ship, the Queen Anne’s Revenge, is doing the latter, and rumor is she’s heading back out to sea today.  Hook watches her through his spyglass from across the wharf, her decks a bustle of activity as packs of salted meat, crates of dried fruits and vegetables, boxes of hardtack, and casks of fresh water are loaded aboard.  With any luck, they’ll be gone by sundown, he thinks grimly, and everyone will be able to breathe a bit easier.

He stows his glass and turns his attention toward the town, fingering the full purse on his belt and enjoying the jangle of the coins therein.  Their earnings from this morning have already been distributed to the crew and the remainder secured aboard the ship, and, with the exception of the men standing the current watch, the rest of his crew have already gone ashore to indulge in what pleasures of port their money can buy.  He, too, plans to enjoy a bit of leisure time this afternoon, and he contemplates where to go first.  It’s little surprise when his mind turns to a certain bookshop and the intriguing girl he might find there, and before he knows it, he’s headed down the gangplank, his feet light as they carry him into town.

Swan and her mysterious past constitute the most interesting diversion he’s had for a long time, and he turns the puzzle over and over in his mind while he wanders the humble dirt streets.  He’s known men to lose their memories and even their faculties after head injuries, but the girl obviously has her wits about her (indeed, to a captivating degree) and there were no signs of physical injury on her arrival, to hear Maggie tell of it.  Maggie had suggested a curse, which seems more likely in his mind.  Swan is special, as anyone can see, and it’s long been his experience that special people have a tendency to find glory or trouble, if not both.

He hasn’t shared this particular insight with her, but he suspects that she might be noble.  Despite her skill in handling rowdy tavern patrons and lusty pirates, her manners and the way she carries herself suggest good breeding. He’s already pointed out that she bears no signs of a life of manual labor, and that suggests some amount of money. The way she’d handled Blackbeard’s knife is also interesting.  She’d wielded it properly, flipping it about in her hand and holding it at the ready like a woman trained to handle a blade.  Who taught her?  Her father, perhaps?  A brother? A husband? he wonders with a frown.  And are these people looking for her?  Surely she’s being missed by someone, unless some horrible fate has also befallen her family.

To his disappointment, he doesn’t see her when he locates the little town’s bookshop and peeks in the window, but across the way lies a swordsmith, and he decides that perusing their weapons is as good a way as any to pass his time.   He waves off help from the swordsmith’s young apprentice and contents himself to browse the racks of weapons on display, picking them up, testing their weight, eyeing the curves of their blades, and putting them back, always with one eye on the street.  The selection and quality here is good, and he makes a mental note to return and find a few new swords for the Jolly’s armory.

It’s nearly two o’clock when at last he spots a slender figure in a dark blue cloak who looks as though she’s trying not to draw attention as she steals down the street with a large covered basket draped over one feminine arm.  The hood obscures her face from this angle, but a stray blond wisp betrays her, and he recognizes Swan immediately.  He hastily replaces the saber he’s examining and steps outside. “’Afternoon, milady!”

She halts and turns her head, looking a little shy even as she offers him a smile that makes his heart leap.  Swan smoothes back the errant lock of hair and glances up and down the street for onlookers before she makes her way over to him. “Captain.”

“Fancy meeting you here,” he says blithely.  “What are you about today?”  He gestures toward her basket.

One eye narrowed as though she sees right through him, she grins nonetheless and allows him a peek inside at a collection of carrots, onions, and heads of cabbage.  “For dinner tonight at the tavern,” she explains. “I was going to stop by the bookshop to see those maps on the way back.  You?”

Hook tips his head toward to the swordsmith’s shop behind him.  “Looking to restock the ship’s armory,” he answers.  An idea occurs.  “Care to look around with me?  You seem to know your way around a blade.”

She snorts.  “Yes, I know which is the pointy end,” she chuckles wryly.

Hook laughs. “You may know more than that.  Let’s find out.”  He motions for her to follow him inside and flashes his most winning smile.  When she opens her mouth in protest, he lifts his brows beguilingly.  “Humor me, darling?”

Swan rolls her eyes and sighs, allowing him to shuttle her through the door of the smithy.  Once inside, she sets her basket down, pulling back the hood of her cloak and surveying the large space curiously, her head craning to look upon the racks of shining weapons that line the walls.  

He steps away to pick out a few different swords, the metal clanking as he threads the hilts over his upturned hook.  “Here we are, love.”  He returns and holds one up for her to inspect.  “Do you know what this type of blade is called?”

“It’s a cutlass,” she answers with a shrug.  “Most sailors carry them.”

“Very good.”  He favors her with an encouraging grin and hands the cutlass off to the apprentice before sliding the next sword off his hook. “And this?”  He watches with satisfaction as she takes in the weapon’s features and her face brightens.

“I think it’s called a backsword.”

“Excellent,” he crows, his smile growing wider.  “And this?” He holds up a third.

“That’s a smallsword.”

He swings the smallsword in the direction of a much larger blade displayed on the wall.  “And that?”  

“A longsword.”  Her delicate features form an expression of awe and excitement as she realizes what she knows.

“And if you needed to defend yourself, which would you reach for first?”

She smirks.  “The closest one.”

Gods, she’s bloody brilliant.  Hook laughs, shaking his head.  “You know what I mean, love.  Which would you be most comfortable wielding?”

Swan purses her lips in thought, and her lashes flutter closed as she tries to envision her weapon of choice.  Head still bowed, she lifts a finger toward the sword on the wall.  “That one.”

The certainty in her voice causes him to raise an eyebrow.  “Really?  Alright.”  He returns the smallsword and bids the smith’s apprentice to bring him a couple of long wooden practice blades from a bin in the corner.  The teenage boy eagerly complies, running the polished rods over and then scrambling to take up a seat in the corner in order to watch. Hook throws the lad a wink as he passes one practice sword to Swan and then brandishes the other.

“Uh, what are we doing?”

“Something most people try to avoid,” he replies matter-of-factly, rotating his wrist with practiced ease to get a feel for the balance of his weapon.  A playful grin curves his mouth.  “You’re about to cross blades with a pirate.”  He holds up his hook to stifle her objection.  “Look, Swan, clearly you’ve had some weapons education; you even have a clear preference in swords.  Someone somewhere has taught you something.  Let’s just see how much you know, yeah?”

Her forehead wrinkles, and she blinks at him helplessly.  “You know this is crazy, right?”

Hook shrugs. “On the contrary, love, if it helps get your memories back, it strikes me as quite rational.”

“Okay, but why?”  Swan plants her free hand on her hip and angles her head.  “Why are you helping me?”  

“Because this is the most interesting thing I’ve found to do in a long time,” he admits with exasperation, motioning for her to raise her weapon.  “Now come on.”

She looks down at her practice sword and back to his expectant expression.  At last, she throws caution to the wind with a huff. “Ugh.  Fine.”  Undoing the clasp of her cloak, she pulls it off and deposits it atop her basket, revealing a pretty white blouse with short puffed sleeves and a dark green petticoat beneath a brown leather underbust corset that flatters her body in such ways as to make his mouth run dry.  Swan tests the weight of the practice blade and gives it a few swings with a thoughtful hum.  Then, meeting his eyes, she executes a two-handed sideways slash at his head.

Though he’s momentarily distracted by her appearance, sharp reflexes and years of experience allow him to instantly deflect her attack, the loud clack of wood on wood echoing through the shop.  They circle around one another as she attempts several more strikes, each of which he smoothly parries, but he roars encouragement to her as she goes, his eyes flashing with enthusiasm.  “Good! Nicely done.  Again!”  

After several minutes, he begins to introduce some basic attacks of his own, determined not to harm her but interested to know whether she’s been taught defense.  As usual, Swan does not disappoint.  Her skills are not overly polished, but they’re far from rudimentary.  Sweat beads on her forehead, and though she just barely manages to block a few of his jabs, she guards herself well and doesn’t give up too much ground as he tries to advance, meeting him strike for strike with determined grunts and a stubborn bent to her brow. He notes that she switches between a one-handed and two-handed grip frequently.  Even more interesting however, is that she appears to be enjoying herself as her confidence grows, her face a mixture of focus and exhilaration.  After five minutes, however, she begins to visibly tire, and he reluctantly decides to end their match.  With a wide rotation of his sword and a flick of his wrist, her blade drops to the floor.

He answers her pout with a consoling smile.  “That was excellent, Swan.  You’ve been taught well.”  He tries not to stare at the way her chest heaves or the way a thin sheen of sweat makes her creamy skin glow in the afternoon light.  

She dabs her forehead with the back of her wrist.  “Is that all that tells you?” she asks breathlessly.

“Uh…”  Hook tears his eyes off her with some effort and coughs weakly.  “No.” He collects the practice blades and returns them to the apprentice, flicking the boy a copper for his trouble. “By your choice of the longsword and the way you handle it, I suspect you were trained by a soldier or a warrior in one of the northern lands.  Your skill suggests that either you’re a quick study or that whoever trained you devoted a fair amount of time to it and was probably an excellent swordsman.”  He allows her to contemplate this while he scoops up her cloak and basket, arranging them over his hook arm before herding her toward the door with his hand on the small of her back.  “Come. If you’re not too tired, you can show me to this bookshop, and we’ll see what else we can discover about you.”

 *             *             *

 Swan wears a private smile as she watches Hook confer with the proprietor of the bookshop from her seat in the corner.  She bites back a giggle at the sight of the fearsome captain being surprisingly patient with the intimidated shopkeeper, a mouse of a man who is clearly unaccustomed to having pirates in his store.  His wizened little hands tremble as he leafs through his parchments and atlases, and his bespectacled eyes keep darting nervously to the Captain’s hook hand.  Hook shoulders the man's fear of him with ease, clearly accustomed to being viewed as a threat.

She chews her lip as she considers Killian Jones.  She’s heard of Captain Hook a number of times since her arrival in port.  From what she’s gathered, he has a reputation for being ruthless, devious, and cunning, and a position on his crew is highly coveted by sailors looking to work for a man who is demanding but wildly successful.  The women adore him, and it’s not hard to see why.  He’s intelligent and suave and unfairly handsome, with blue eyes as mercurial as the ocean and a smile that draws her in and begs for her affection. Swan can’t deny the sparks that seem to dance across her skin each time he finds an excuse to touch her or the low flutter in her stomach whenever she catches him watching her with poorly-disguised want.  But the thing that intrigues her most about the man is his obvious interest in discovering who she is, rather than simply seducing her.  He’d implied some degree of boredom, though what could be boring about a life filled with swashbuckling adventures is beyond her.  Swan takes a deep breath.  Well, whatever his motive, he’s helped her figure out more about herself in the last 24 hours than anyone else has been able to deduce in six weeks, and for that she supposes she owes him a debt of thanks.  A shiver runs between her shoulder blades at the thought of how he might elect to receive such gratitude, and she blinks rapidly and looks away, attempting to redirect her mind toward something – anything – else.

To her great relief, the Captain himself provides a distraction when he returns bearing an enormous atlas.  “Here we are, Swan.  Hopefully this will do.”

“Oh?” she asks, looking up with a nervous flutter of her lashes.  She feigns a smirk while praying her cheeks are not as red as they feel. “Are you saying I might not have to visit your ship after all?”

“Well, let’s not be hasty.” He flashes a wicked sideways grin and thumps the book down on the table in front of her, opening it to a particular page with a creak of the spine and rotating it her direction.  “Here’s a map of the lands to the north.  Given your skill with the longsword, I think it best to start here.”  Inspiration seems to strike him, and he pulls out a black scarf and drapes it over the page.

“What are you doing?”

“Just trust me.”  He responds to her arched eyebrow with a sly wink and pulls part of the scarf back to reveal the far upper left corner of the map.  “There’s Arendelle.  What lies to the east?”

For twenty minutes they work their way across the map, heads bowed together, Hook gradually pulling back the scarf to reveal more and more of the northland as he quizzes her about what lies just beyond the visible parchment.  It becomes evident to them both that she has in fact been taught more than a little about the geography of the world, but as they move a little farther down the giant page, her knowledge of the terrain becomes more and more detailed.

Hook points to a large river that disappears beneath the scarf’s edge.  “Do you know what becomes of this?”

Swan sighs, the whispers of impatience beginning to take hold, but he eggs her on with an irresistible smile and a little nod, and she lets her eyes fall shut and dutifully struggles to remember.  “It… winds through a mountain pass,” she says haltingly.  “There are a lot of twists and turns.  Then it turns hard to the east and becomes the northern border of Misthaven. Eventually it runs all the way to the White Sea.”

There’s a prolonged silence, and she opens her eyes to find him staring at her, his face inexplicably dumbstruck.  She frowns. “Captain?”

He licks his lips, blue eyes shining, a small awed smile blooming on his face.  “Bloody hell, Swan,” he breathes. “I think I know who you are.”

Her mouth falls open.  “What?  Who?  How?”

He whisks the scarf away and stares at the now-revealed map of Misthaven, a medium-sized kingdom that lies along the eastern border of the large central continent.  His finger absently traces the river that runs exactly the course she predicted.  “It makes sense,” he mutters.

“What does?”  She grabs his forearm to draw his attention back to her.  “What makes sense?”

Hook glances down at her hand almost curiously, and Swan pulls her fingers away, willing her face not to warm.  He grins softly.  “I haven’t been in that part of the world for a while,” he begins, “but we came across a long-distance merchant ship from Glowerhaven about a month ago.  There was a royal communiqué among the captain’s papers addressed to all of that kingdom’s ships – an alert about a missing person.”  He leans back in his chair and gestures to her.  “Princess Emma of Misthaven.”  He chuffs.  “Apologies, love, I should have thought of it sooner.”

Swan squints, trying to process his words in a way that doesn’t make them seem preposterous.  “Wait, what? You think I’m royal?”  She crosses her arms with a disbelieving laugh.  “That’s insane.”

“Is it?” he presses, arching an eyebrow.  “You carry yourself like nobility, Swan, you have the manners and education of someone high-born, and you’ve been trained to fight by a great swordsman, like a knight or a king.”

“What do you mean I…” The indignant question fades from her lips, and Swan is suddenly so overwhelmed with nervous energy she leaps to her feet and begins to pace restlessly.  Noble? Royal?  Her?  That’s absurd.  

Isn’t it?  

Hook’s piercing gaze continues to follow her, his expression maddeningly sensible.  “They say the Princess is beautiful and clever, if a bit unconventional.  I daresay it’s an apt description.”  His eyes glint with amusement.  “There’s also your talent for rebuffing men to take into account.”

She pauses, shooting him an irritated look.  “What does that have to do with anything?”

He chuckles, brushing the side of his curled index finger with his thumb.  “As I recall, there was a bloody pilgrimage of suitors to Misthaven last summer.  Went home empty-handed, the lot of them.  Forgive me, love, but I have no trouble believing that was your doing.”

Swan snorts, but the shadow of a smile flits across her face.  She wanders back to her chair, thoughts still reeling.  “I had no idea you had a taste for royal gossip,” she manages.

“Yes, well, word travels fast in my circles when the waterways are filled with wealthy noblemen.”  His smirk fades at the unamused tilt of her head, and he sighs.  “Look, I know this seems crazy,” he says soberly, “but you have to listen to me.  Deep down, you know I’m right.”

“How could it be true?” she demands, lines creasing her forehead in rows.  “How could I forget everything and end up on the other side of the world? It’s impossible.”

Hook smiles patiently.  “Love, I’ve traveled this realm and a few others for over 170 years.”  He responds to her shocked blink with a dismissive wave.  “Long story.  But suffice it to say there’s very little that’s impossible.  I promise you there’s an explanation.”  He nudges the book closer to her with his fingertips.  “You have good instincts.  Trust your gut, Swan.  It will tell you what to do.”

She’s silent for a long while, reaching to gingerly trace her fingers over Misthaven’s winding borders.  His reasoning is sound – she doesn’t question that – but it’s all so much.  Too much.  What if he’s wrong?  He has to be wrong.  She doesn’t feel like a princess (whatever that feels like).  She’s just an ordinary person, a little lost girl taken in by a tavernkeep, a girl who sweeps floors and takes orders and serves ale and dodges handsy drunkards.  And suddenly she finds herself keeping company with an infamous (infamous, devastatingly handsome, and apparently ancient) pirate captain who’s convinced she’s heir to a kingdom half a world away, and it’s too much.

She looks up and searches his face.  His eyes are uncharacteristically honest and imploring, and she finds she cannot resist their silent plea.  At last she exhales with a shudder.  “If,” she says slowly, “If you’re right… then what do I do? Who could have done this?”

Hook shakes his head. “I don’t know.  Perhaps an enemy of your parents?  Alas, I’m not an expert on royal politics, though I know something about having magical enemies.”  He pointedly holds his hook aloft.

Her eyebrows tick upward, but she decides not to pursue that tale for now.  “So what do I do?” she asks again, tucking another stray lock of hair behind her ear.

“Well, that seems rather obvious.  You go home.”

She eyes the map again, following the path of Misthaven’s coastline and letting her thumb drift over the tiny drawing of a castle a little ways inland.  The royal seat.  “Home?” she repeats softly.

He nods.  “Even if we’re wrong, Swan, it’s clear you won’t find any more answers around here.  I think travel to the northern lands is your best bet.”

“With little money and no resources?”  She utters a strained laugh.  “How would I even get there?”

The knowing smile that curls at his mouth illuminates Hook’s face like the sun.  “Why, on the Jolly Roger, of course.”

 *             *             *

 Bloody hell.  She’s the Crown Princess of Misthaven.  The bloody Princess.  Hook escorts Swan back to the tavern, sneaking sideways glances at her perfect face, and the more he considers the idea, the surer he is of it.  The problem now lies in convincing her.  She seems to be considering his proposal to travel north, but belief, aye, belief is another thing all together.  He can’t say he blames her – it seems quite the fantastical story.  But then, he’s lived enough fantastical stories to know that the truth is capable of being more bizarre than the tallest tale.

His plan to take her back to Misthaven on the Jolly is perfect, though – she’ll get her best chance to find out who she is, and he’ll get to enjoy her delightful company for well over a month.  And if the communiqué he found was correct and the King and Queen are willing to reward him handsomely for the safe return of their beloved daughter, well, he wouldn’t be a pirate if he turned down a profitable endeavor, would he?

He leaves Swan at the tavern to help Maggie prepare for the evening crowd, giving her arm a gentle squeeze and gently tipping her chin up with the curve of his hook so he can meet her conflicted eyes.  “I know it’s a lot to think about, love,” he says, “but try.  I can help you find what you’re looking for.”

She smiles weakly and offers a timid nod.  “I’m sure I’ll see you soon, Captain.”

Hook gives his most reassuring grin and a bow.  

As soon as she disappears around the doorway, he makes haste back to the docks.  A passenger on the Jolly means another mouth to feed and more supplies to buy for the journey, a matter to discuss with the quartermaster. And a female passenger means adjusting the crew’s sleeping arrangements. Smee will have to give up the first mate’s berth, the only private sleeping quarters on the ship other than his own – unless, of course, the Princess wants to join him in the captain’s quarters.  

Hook bites his lip and shakes his head.  The idea is a wonderfully salacious distraction, but Swan isn’t a common whore with whom he can just have some fun and part ways.  There was a time, back when he was more promiscuous, when he wouldn’t have hesitated to try to bed a woman as beautiful as her, regardless of the circumstances.  But he’s mellowed a little over the decades, and while her royal title doesn’t automatically inspire much respect from him, Swan herself certainly does.  The Princess, even unmarried, has no business consorting with a pirate except in his wildest fantasies – she’s too pure, too special to be sullied by a man like him.  She may not remember turning down every eligible nobleman who’s sought to win her, but she has.  Fate, it seems, has an even worthier hero in store for her.  He grits his teeth and glances down at the heavy rings he wears, trophies from men who once crossed him and met their ends.  For the first time in over 100 years, the sight of them brings a pang of regret, rather than reassurance.  A hero he most certainly is not.  He and his brother once dreamt of becoming heroes long ago, but that’s no more than a distant memory now, a pleasant dream completely obscured by Liam’s death and the hard lesson it taught him about the steep price of maintaining gallant ideals in a cruel world.

Transporting the Princess back to Misthaven should be an interesting adventure and certainly a lucrative one – that’s all that matters, isn’t it?  There’s no room in his heart for love anymore anyway, he reminds himself bitterly; he’s destined to mourn his first love, his Milah, forever.  That’s his sad fate and a fitting punishment for the villain he’s become.

When he arrives at the Jolly, he summons the quartermaster and Smee to his cabin and orders them to close the door.  

The quartermaster, Roberts, shares a questioning look with Smee and complies.  “Captain?”

Hook throws both men a look of forewarning.  “This is for your ears only, understand?”  His tone brokers no room for argument.

The men glance at one another again and nod.  “Yessir,” they answer in unison.

He wanders over to a cabinet filled with rolled maps and star charts and begins sorting through them.  “I’ve come across a rather extraordinary opportunity for us, but it will require some modification of our previous plans and an unusual situation on board for the next two months.”  He locates his comprehensive map of the White Sea.  “We’ll be taking a female passenger to Misthaven.”

Smee balks.  “A woman?  Who?”

Hook chooses his words carefully.  “It has yet to be confirmed, but I think she’s their missing princess.”  He ignores his crewmen’s startled expressions as he rolls the map out over his table and secures it with paperweights.  “She’s lost her memories somehow, but I’ve spent enough time with her to be convinced of her identity.  Word is that the King and Queen are offering quite the sum for her safe return.”  He glances up at them meaningfully and grins.  “Enough to set us up for a long time.”

“So we’re kidnappin’ ‘er then?” Roberts asks, raising an eyebrow, no judgment on his weather-worn face. It would hardly be the first time a pirate had taken a royal for ransom.

Hook smiles wider and waves a finger.  “That’s the beauty of it.  I don’t think there will be a need.  I think the lass is going to come with us willingly.  She may not be sure of who she is, but she knows traveling north with us is her best chance to find some answers.”

“Well, that will certainly make it easier,” Smee agrees, brightening.

“I’m glad you agree, Mr. Smee,” Hook replies amiably, “because she is likely going to need your berth for the journey while you bunk with the rest of the men.”  

Smee’s face falls immediately.  

“It also means,” Hook continues, turning to Roberts, “that we’ve another mouth to feed.  You and I are going to revise the purchase list.  I want us resupplied and back out to sea in no more than two days.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Not a word of this to anyone, anywhere,” he emphasizes, giving them each a hard look.  “That includes the rest of the crew until she’s aboard and we’re underway.  If word gets out that the Princess is in port, the excitement could spook her, or someone else may try to steal her away for themselves.  She is highly precious cargo, and this will require discretion.  We will not collect our reward unless we deliver her to her kingdom safely.”  

After dismissing Smee and modifying the purchase list with Roberts, Hook leans over the map on his table with a distant stare.  With any luck, they’ll be back out to sea in a day or two with the Princess on board. A small smile pulls at his mouth as his mind begins to wander.  He envisions them sharing the occasional meal at this table and wiling the evenings away in pleasant discussion.  He can regale her with stories of his adventures and enjoy the way her gorgeous face lights up when she laughs that warm, infectious laugh of hers. Perhaps he’ll resume her weapons training – give her a few lessons on deck and teach her to use a cutlass or a nimble smallsword in addition to that less wieldy longsword she currently favors. Perhaps he’ll point out the constellations to her as they sail on moonlit waters; even with her royal education, he doubts she can read the night sky better than he.  He imagines her standing on the deck with a hand at the rail, the wind tugging at her silken hair and the hem of her skirt while her shining eyes gaze out over the dark waves toward the horizon.  

Hook catches himself in his reverie and freezes, his fingers tightening into a fist.  He has to stop.  As bloody amazing as the Princess is, he cannot afford to develop any real feelings for her; it’ll only lead to heartache when they return her to her kingdom and bid her farewell, and he’s had enough of that for several lifetimes, he thinks, glowering at his right forearm where Milah’s name lies inscribed in ink beneath his sleeve.  Hook sets his jaw in silent rebuke.  He’s been in this business long enough to know that sentimentality only leads to regrets or empty pockets, and frankly, he can afford neither.

 *             *             *

 “Are you alright, Swan?” Maggie bangs her ladle against the inside of the stew pot with a few loud clangs and sets it aside.  “You’ve hardly said two words all afternoon.”

Swan glances up from the potato she’s peeling, forcing a smile that does not reach her eyes.  “I’m fine,” she reassures the older woman, “Just… thinking.”

Maggie snorts, placing a lid over the pot and adding another small log to the wood-burning stove. “Oh, thinking,” she repeats good-naturedly.  “What’s turned your head?”  She crooks an eyebrow.  “It wouldn’t be a certain handsome pirate captain, would it?”  Swan gives a start, and the tavern keeper nods sympathetically. “He’s a charming bastard, isn’t he? You certainly aren’t the first to pine after him.”

“Ugh, I’m not pining,” Swan retorts, wrinkling her nose.  “I mean, he’s not what I expected, and he is charming, but it’s not that.”

“Of course.”  Maggie smiles indulgently and hauls out her cutting board.  “Well, what then?”

Swan tosses the potato in a bowl and reaches for another.  “He…”  She pauses, brow creased.  “He thinks he’s figured out who I am.  Who I really am,” she clarifies.

The other woman gasps and spins, agog. “You’re serious?”  When Swan nods, she muffles her happy cry with both hands.  “Well, tell me, girl!”

Swan smiles weakly. “He thinks I’m from Misthaven.” She doesn’t want to share the fact that Hook believes her to be a member of the royal family; even if she were convinced of it herself, labeling herself as a princess seems a good way to invite trouble.  “He’s… heard of a woman who’s been missing, and he thinks I fit her description. He wants to take me there to see if we can find some answers.”

“Heavens.”  Maggie aims a puzzled look at the ceiling as she tries to remember.  “I think I’ve heard of Misthaven.  Where is it?”

Swan bites her lip. “Practically on the other side of the world.”

“Well, what would you be doing here then?”

“I don’t know!”  Swan tosses another potato into the bowl with more force than necessary and hunches forward on her little stool, her eyes dropping to her hands as she anxiously rolls the paring knife between her palms.  “It’s crazy, right?”

Maggie considers her for a moment before humming and gently collecting the knife and the bowl of peeled potatoes from her.  “It’d certainly be a strange thing,” she agrees.  She sets to dicing vegetables, and for a few long minutes, the only sound between them is the crackle of the fire in the stove and the repetitive thunk of her knife on the wooden cutting board.  “But then,” she offers at last, “if anyone would know about strange things, it’s the Captain.”

Swan looks up at her warily and scoffs.  “Are you saying you think he’s right?  That I should just go off on some caper?  With a pirate?”

“I hardly know, my dear,” Maggie concedes serenely, her eyes on her work.  “But while Killian Jones is indeed one of the most feared pirates in these parts, he also strikes me as a very smart man.  What he says could be worth considering, so long as you don’t think he’s trying to deceive you.”  She wipes down the cutting board with a rag and throws Swan a glance over her shoulder. “Do you think he’s lying?”

“No.”  Her reply is immediate, and Swan gives a frustrated huff. She doesn’t know how, but she’s sure that he isn’t lying.  The fact is that she’s discovered an unnatural propensity for knowing when people are lying in general – that strange way her skin crawls when husbands claim to be unmarried or soldiers spin exaggerated tales of their exploits in the hopes of enticing her to their beds.  It’s just one more thing about her life that she cannot explain. She lets out a harsh laugh. “Strange, isn’t it?  A pirate who hasn’t lied to me?”

Maggie grins and shrugs. “Pirate though he may be, Killian Jones has never struck me as truly evil – formidable and extremely complicated, to be sure, but he’s got himself an honorable streak that would surprise you.” She chuckles.  “And I must say, my girl, I’ve known him for many years, and I’ve never seen him take as much interest in a woman as he has in you.” She winks.  “Perhaps you just bring out the best in him.”

Swan wills her cheeks not flush, her features carefully neutral when she stands defiantly and hauls out a sack of flour to begin making bread.  

Maggie watches her with a look of amusement and a little sadness as she checks on the simmering contents of the pot and then begins separating sprigs of rosemary.  They work in companionable silence for a while until Swan has the dough combined and divided and they move to knead the loaves side-by-side at the work bench.  “So when do you leave?” she asks.

Swan turns her head, her eyes shining with a shade of helplessness and her shoulders undulating as she works the bread in a practiced rhythm.  She directs her gaze back to her hands and sniffs.  “I never said I was going.”

Beside her, Maggie’s mouth forms into a quiet little smile.  “Oh, Swan.  You didn’t have to.”

 *             *             *

 It’s late in the evening by the time Hook makes his way back to Maggie’s.  In addition to making his purchases from the swordsmith, he’s spent the remainder of the afternoon haggling prices with various merchants and suppliers.  Securing all the food and supplies the Jolly needs is always a task, and he’s gratified to have completed it in a single day.   Now, however, he finds himself weary and yearning for a warm meal and a pint or two, and the thought of finding those things and Swan in the same place eases the tension between his shoulders as he pushes the tavern door open. The dinner crowd has mostly dispersed at this hour, and he has no difficulty finding an empty table in the corner.

Swan – Emma, he supposes – emerges from the kitchen several minutes later with a tankard of ale and part of a loaf of bread.  “Hi.” She seems almost shy as she places the items on the table in front of him, wiping her hands on her apron.

He beams, exhaustion dissipating at the sight of her.  “Swan.”

She appears to relax a fraction and returns his smile.  “You look tired.”  She studies the subtle signs of fatigue written on his face, and her expression grows sympathetic.  “Hungry?”

“Famished,” he admits. “I wouldn’t mind seeing what became of those vegetables you had with you earlier.”

“Of course.”  Her grin warms him more effectively than the nearby fire as she turns and hustles toward the kitchen.

The stew is better than adequate, and Hook practically inhales it, mopping up the last drops at the bottom of his bowl with a few torn pieces of bread.

Maggie’s satisfied laugh meets his ears, and the tavernkeep appears and plops herself down at his table. “An empty bowl is the best compliment a cook can receive,” she comments.

He rumbles in agreement. “Aye.  If you have some more, I would gladly compliment you again.”

She chuckles and signals Emma, who is cleaning up behind the bar.  The girl disappears into the kitchen, and Maggie rotates back to face him. “Swan tells me you think she’s from Misthaven.”

Hook nods and lifts his tankard, giving it a swirl before raising it to his lips.  “Mark my word – all signs point north as far as the girl is concerned.”

Maggie surveys him mildly. “For a man who only met her last night, you’re awfully sure of yourself.”

“How long have you known me?”

She laughs.  “Many years,” she acknowledges.  “I don’t doubt you’re right about who you think she is. I’ve just never known you to be so eager to play the hero.  I assume you’re getting something out of this?”

He gives her the side-eye and winks.  “Perhaps.”

She arcs a graying eyebrow. “Something other than the chance to get in the good graces of a girl you can’t stop staring at?”

Hook’s gaze falls to the table, though he shrugs and plasters on a nonchalant grin.  “Pirate, love.  I’m perfectly capable of appreciating profit and a pretty face.”

Maggie sits back and tuts, her brown eyes boring uncomfortably into him.  “She’s more than that, and you know it.  You’ve figured out how special she is.”

“I know treasure when I see it,” he acquiesces quietly, studying his tankard.  His eyes flick back up to her face.  “Would you be disappointed if some of my intentions were honorable?”

“Of course not.  I’m actually rather proud of you, Captain.” The woman smiles fondly at him. “I encouraged her to go with you.”

“She hasn’t decided yet?”

“Oh, she has,” Maggie replies airily.  “She just won’t admit it.”  She rises to her feet as Emma emerges from the kitchen and heads toward them with a bowl of stew in one hand and another half a loaf of crusty bread on a platter in the other. The older woman claps a hand heavily on the pirate’s shoulder, somehow making it feel like the weight of the world. “Take care of her, Captain.”

Hook swallows hard and nods as she walks away.

 *             *             *

 The sounds of the street outside have only partly died down by the time Swan returns to the tiny attic above the tavern where she’s slept since Maggie first took her in. Through the single open window she can still hear the scattered calls of drunken revelers and the occasional blush-inducing groans and breathy yelps of the prostitutes servicing their latest round of clients in the brothels (and, indeed, the alleys) down the way.  She briefly wonders if Hook is one of those clients, but she quickly shakes her head to try to banish the lurid and unwanted images from her mind.

Hunching to avoid striking her head on the low vaulted ceiling, she steps over to the thin straw mattress that sits on the floor to one side of the window and lowers herself to sit on the edge with a tired sigh.  Swan sets her lantern carefully aside and goes to work stripping out of her corset and petticoat, her thoughts a jumble as she sets them aside and breathes deep. It’s been a long and eventful day, and she hardly knows what she’s feeling about all of its revelations – that she knows how to wield a sword and read maps, that the Captain now believes her to be a missing princess from a country so far away it may as well be on the moon, that Maggie appears to trust his judgment, that she feels undeniably drawn to him…

She huffs and reaches for the small, worn hairbrush she inherited from one of the other barmaids, staring out into the night as she absently works the out the day’s tangles with the fraying bristles.  

Leave Vicarstown.  

Does she dare?  

Her eyes flit up and down the dimly lit street, and she winces at the unmistakable sound of some inebriated soul turning out the contents of their stomach nearby.  Is she willing to accept a life holed up in this port town?  Is whatever lies out there for her worth braving a long voyage at sea with pirates? She chews on her lip.  

Is it riskier to stay and never find out?

Trust your gut, Swan.  It will tell you what to do.

That’s what Hook had said. They both know what he wants, but he isn’t asking her to trust him, she realizes suddenly.  He’s asking her to trust herself.

She huffs and scrunches her face in a tormented mask.

Okay.  Okay.

Swan straightens and begins to gather her meager belongings into a neat pile next to her bed before she loses her nerve.  Her gaze flies around the attic at the various storage crates she shares the space with, searching for a spare sack in which to carry her things.

The sound of heavy footsteps climbing the stairs gives her a start, and Swan freezes, the hairs on her neck rising on end until Maggie’s silhouette, illuminated in the dark by her own lantern, appears half bent-over in the low doorway.  The tavernkeep is in her faded cotton dressing gown, her hair in a braid down one shoulder and a dark bundle in her hand.  

Swan’s surprise must be obvious on her face, because the other woman smiles apologetically. “Sorry to have frightened you.”

Swan releases a breath she didn’t realize she was holding.  “It’s alright,” she chortles nervously.  “I thought you’d gone to bed hours ago.”

Maggie’s keen gaze alights on Swan’s small stack of belongings, and she smiles knowingly in the lantern light.  “It occurred to me you might be needing this,” she says, holding out the bundle and giving it a shake.  A large old burlap rice sack unfurls.

Swan rises and comes forward, emotion suddenly swimming in her eyes as she hesitantly accepts the offering, cherishing the sensation of the coarse fabric against her fingertips. She suddenly flings herself forward, her arms wrapping around Maggie’s broad torso and her voice wavering with the first tear that rolls down her cheek.  “Thank you.”

Maggie sniffles back. “Ah, my dear.  You’ve always been welcome.”

Thanks for reading!  Ready for the next chapter?  Click here!

[aupairadventures]

Making Magical Memories in Copenhagen, Denmark:

Our story begins several months ago, on a rainy February day. What the weather was actually like that day is debatable, but in my memory, the sky was gray and rain was pouring dramatically from the sky, perfectly matching my emotions. That was the last day that I would see my friend Karoline, an au pair from Denmark, before she left Nantes and returned home to finish her studies. That day, I was thinking about all the wonderful moments that we had shared together since we met last September and replaying them in my head. Whether we were strolling through antique markets, baking macarons at 2 am in my host family’s kitchen, dancing or laughing uncontrollably, knitting and watching “Skam” together, or driving in my car and singing along to Christine and the Queens, we never failed to create beautiful memories together.

While I felt so happy and excited for Karoline that she would be returning home, I still couldn’t shake a feeling of sadness. As we stood next to the tram tracks in Commerce and hugged goodbye, part of me worried that this might be the last time that I ever see her. Little did I know what the Universe had in store…

Fast forward a month later to March 12, my 19th birthday. After spending an incredibly lovely day in Nantes celebrating with my friends, my host family surprised me with dinner at a delicious restaurant in Vertou. Halfway through dinner, my host dads handed me a little green envelope labeled “Indice Numero 1” (“Hint Number 1”). They explained that there would be a different picture inside each envelope, and every picture was a hint. Based on the hints, I would have to guess what my gift was. (Or else, they warned, if I didn’t guess correctly, there would no gift.) However, as I opened each envelope and looked at each picture, I only grew more and more confused. The first picture was of a cookie cutter in an indistinguishable shape. I stared at it and flipped the paper around, trying to view it from as many angles as possible. After a thorough inspection, I concluded that perhaps the cookie cutter was in the shape of the Virgin Mary. (Why I thought this, I honestly have no clue. It’s just what the shape looked like to me!) This miscalculation led to quite an embarrassing language error. While I was trying to say, “C’est la vierge?” I accidentally said “C’est la verge?” without realizing what it meant or what the difference in pronunciation was. (I’ll let you all Google Translate that one. Hint: It’s not something you want to say loudly in a crowded restaurant.)  

After my host dads’ fits of laughter quieted down after my unfortunate error in pronunciation, I moved on to the next envelopes to discover pictures of a cinnamon roll, a painting of a castle, and a painting of some kind of fancy-looking gate. No matter how hard I racked my brain, I had absolutely no idea what all of these seemingly random things had in common. I had no clue what in the world the answer could possibly be!

Finally, after it became clear that no matter how hard I tried, I  would never guess correctly, my host dads took pity on me and handed me the final envelope. When I opened it and read what was written on the piece of paper tucked inside, I nearly burst into tears of happiness. In total disbelief, I clasped my hands over my mouth, totally overwhelmed by the kindness and generosity of my host family.

On the paper was written:  “Pack your bags, Shanti! You’re going to Copenhagen to see Karoline!”

The words “excited”,  “happy”, and “grateful” don’t even begin to describe the emotions that I was feeling that night. I felt absolutely overjoyed that I was going to see Karoline again soon and that I would have the incredible opportunity to travel and explore a new place with her. I also felt completely overwhelmed by the love and kindness that I had received that day from all of my loved ones. My heart was glowing brighter than every star in the sky and I felt like the luckiest girl in the world to have been blessed with so many incredible people in my life. I felt so grateful towards my host family for everything that they have done for me, starting with them choosing me to embark on this adventure with and allowing me to become a part of their family. I was so thankful for their beautiful gift, which means more to me than they’ll ever know.

After I came back to reality, my host dads explained to me how all of this had come about. They explained that before Karoline had left Nantes, they had found her contact information by scrolling through my list of friends on Facebook. They then reached out to her to organize a time where I could fly to Copenhagen to see her.  The three of them were in cahoots and forming an elaborate, top-secret plan, the whole time! When I hugged Karoline goodbye in February while saying, “But what if I never see you again?!” and she told me not to worry, she had good reason to say so. When I told my host dads that I was feeling down because it had been Karoline’s last day in Nantes and they said, “Ne t’inquiete pas, ça va aller,” they also knew exactly what they were talking about. Looking back, they all did a remarkably good job of keeping everything secret; I suspected nothing!

I think that I said “Merci beaucoup” to my host dads about a thousand times that night, and hugged them both at least a hundred times. I couldn’t shut up about how happy I was, even though no words exist in neither French nor English to sufficiently express the extremity of my happiness or gratitude.

After weeks of excited anticipation, the moment for my reunion with Karoline finally came on Tuesday, May 7th. When she came to pick me up at the airport, seeing her face in person, rather than on my phone screen, made me so incredibly happy. I couldn’t wait for the three days that lay ahead of us and all the memories that we were about to make.

From the airport, we took a short metro ride into the city center, during which we talked excitedly, thrilled to be reunited. Our first destination was the former meat-packing district of Copenhagen, which is now filled with tons of cool restaurants. Here, you can find almost any kind of cuisine imaginable. For lunch, Karoline brought me to one of her favorites: a Mexican restaurant called Hija de Sanchez for some deliciously spicy tacos. 

Although it rained while we were eating and just after we left the restaurant, a beautiful burst of golden sunlight began to shine through the parting clouds as we made our way into the city center. I immediately fell in love with Copenhagen: Whether I was looking around the little streets filled with funky, colorful boutiques and cool cafes, or the grandiose buildings and impressively beautiful palaces and royal residences, I loved everything that I saw. One of my favorite parts of the city was Nyhavn, the port in the center of the city that’s lined with vibrantly colored buildings. I especially loved the way the sunlight and the colors of the nearby buildings reflected on the water, making it look like a swirl of watercolor paints. 

After relaxing in a cafe housed in one of these colorful buildings, we set off to find the statue of the Little Mermaid. (As it turns out, that picture of the cookie cutter was actually in the shape of a mermaid! How I confused a mermaid for the Virgin Mary, I have no idea.) Along the way, we found some Lime scooters and hopped on them, in hopes of making the journey a bit quicker and easier. While we definitely had a lot of fun racing through the streets, my experience on the scooter has made me realize a few things: One, I have a fear of speed. Two, I have terrible balance. And three, are we sure that these things aren’t dangerous at all? When we reached the Little Mermaid statue, I fell in love with the view of the sea and the way that the sunshine sparkled on the bright blue water.

For dinner, Karoline took me to one of her favorite restaurants in Copenhagen, called Mahalle Lebanese kitchen. After having the most incredible meal, I decided that this is officially one of my favorite restaurants in the world. Out of all the delicious things that we tried, our favorite dish was the flatbread “pizza” topped with hummus, olive oil, halloumi cheese, avocado, pomegranate seeds, and spices. For anyone traveling to Copenhagen, this restaurant is a must-try! We had a lovely time at dinner, using the moment of relaxation to talk, laugh, tell stories, and catch up on everything that’s been going on since we’ve last seen each other. 

After dinner, we took the metro to Karoline’s parent’s house, where we would be staying. We entertained ourselves during the long metro ride by me trying (and miserably failing) to correctly pronounce the names of each metro stop in Danish. When we finally arrived at our stop,  I got to meet Karoline’s mother and brother, both of whom were so incredibly sweet and absolutely wonderful hosts!

On Wednesday morning, we started off the day perfectly by going to a nearby traditional Danish bakery to pick up some pastries and bread. When we got back to the house, Karoline put together a delicious breakfast of tea, bread with cheese and blueberry jam, orange juice, and cinnamon buns. After we finished eating, we set off for another day full of adventures. First, we visited the Kronborg castle in a town called Helsingør, which is actually the castle that inspired William Shakespeare’s Hamlet. One of my favorite things about the castle was that it stood right on the edge of the sea and that across the water, you could see the coast of Sweden. After we finished exploring the castle grounds, we strolled around the adorable streets of Helsingør, which were lined with lots of cute shops and old half-timbered houses. Next, we took the ferry and popped over to Sweden. Yep, Denmark and Sweden are so close to each other that getting from Helsingør, Denmark to Helsingborg Sweden only takes 20 minutes by ferry! We spent several hours in Helsingborg, where we got lunch at a great restaurant called Cafe Mezo and then walked around in a lovely flower garden. So, even though it was just for a bite to eat, now I can add Sweden to the list of countries I’ve visited! 

After we returned to Denmark, we visited the Louisiana Museum of Modern Art in a town called Humlebæk, which was a really cool and interesting experience. The museum and its grounds, which stood at the edge of the sea, were absolutely beautiful. There were tons of intriguing expositions, interactive installations, and impressively creative artwork everywhere I looked. One of my favorite expositions was one of Yayoi Kusama’s infinity rooms, called “Gleaming Light of Souls.” The dark room was lined with mirrors that reflected the many colorful, glowing orbs that hung from the ceiling, making for a surreal, disorienting, and beautiful sight. I absolutely adore Kusama’s work, because I love the way that she creates these fascinating worlds where the viewer can fully immerse themselves in her artwork. I absolutely loved this museum and highly recommend it for anyone interested in art.

Shortly after we returned home, we ventured back to Copenhagen to go out to dinner with Caroline's mother and brother. Karoline found a great organic restaurant called BOB Biomio Bistro in the meatpacking district. This restaurant is perfect for vegans and vegetarians, as it offers many delicious meat-free or animal product-free options. I don’t even remember exactly what I had or what it was called, but I do know that it was absolutely delicious and that I would highly recommend it! This restaurant is perfect for any vegan or vegetarian travelers looking for healthy options.  As we ate dinner together, I really enjoyed spending time with Karoline and her family and felt so grateful to the three of them for welcoming me so kindly into their home and making my experience in Denmark so magical.

On Thursday, my last day in Denmark, I woke up feeling sad to know that I only had a few hours left with Karoline. But, at the same time, my heart felt full and happy as I thought about how wonderful this trip had been and all the new memories that we had made together. After another delicious breakfast, we drove into Copenhagen, listening to our favorite Christine and the Queens songs the whole way. We started off our last morning in Copenhagen by grabbing some hot chocolate (and another cinnamon bun, of course!) at a cute cafe called the Coffee Collective Cafe. Next, we braved the rain and walked around the Nørrebro neighborhood, which is known to be loved by hipsters, artists, and students. Also located in the Nørrebro area was the Assistens Cemetery, which is the burial place of many famous Danes, such as fairytale writer Hans Christian Andersen and philosopher Søren Kierkegaard. As the rain came down, we strolled through the surprisingly beautiful and peaceful cemetery. I’ve realized that while this is not true of many other cities, Copenhagen is a city that works in any weather, even in the rain. The dark gray skies make the bright orange and red brick buildings stand out, making this city look even more gorgeous in less than ideal weather. So, if the weather forecast for your trip to Copenhagen looks bleak, fear not! You’re sure to fall in love with this place, rain or shine. 

Our last destination before we headed to the airport was the French Bookstore and Cafe, or Den Franske Bogcafe in Danish. This shop was absolutely adorable and was the perfect place to seek shelter from the rain and find some gifts for my host family at the same time.

Saying goodbye to Karoline at the airport was difficult, as I know that it will most likely be quite a while before I see her again. However, I was so happy and grateful that have been given such a beautiful gift that allowed me to see her again, spend time together, and make so many new memories with her in such a magical place.

Karoline, thank you so much for everything! Thank you for being the most incredible friend, Danish language teacher, and tour guide. I can’t wait for you to visit the US with me one day and to show you all of my favorite places!