Once Upon a Time 1. Last Raid

The air was heavily permeated with a thick odour of sweat, rum, gunpowder and melted wax.

The Toothless Sword was fuller than usual with men pushed against the walls, their weapons hanging off their belts and holsters as they shoved through the crowd. Some were wooing their selected wenches for the night while several already pounding away into them with abandon in plain sight. In one corner, a man was playing old tunes on an even older piano, in the centre a brawl was rising over an argument of whose ship sailed faster while in another corner, a game of cards was proceeding smoothly until a player's bluff was called and a gunshot resonated in the air.

The crowd barely flinched.

The tavern boys rushed out to pick up yet another corpse and tossed it out into the streets, dusting their hands afterwards as if they'd just tossed a sack of flour in their kitchen.

Out of all the pirates that were jam packed into this cauldron of filth, only one carried some semblance of dignity despite her obvious trade.

Emma Swan, first mate to Captain Killian Jones on his ship, the Black Stache sat with her legs crossed, an elbow tossed over the back of her chair, her fingers lightly holding rum filled mug by its rim. Her other hand tapped impatiently against the liquor stained table as she sipped her drink. Her eyes steady in their watchful gaze over the crew members of her vessel and their devolution into neanderthals.

The men seemed determined to drink themselves stupid, grinning like fools as the held each other and sang along with their equally, if not more intoxicated captain.

Their ever refined leader sang in a slurred voice, his favorite 'girl' feeding him with rum as she sat on his lap, giggling away in that false cackle.

Scowling, she resisted the urge to pull her tanto blade out from her thigh high boots and throw it over his head just to wipe that look off his face.

The trip to Port Royal was announced several weeks ago without any discussion with her. A highly unusual act considering the Captain had always referred to her in any decisions he made, including what to wear before he ransacked a merchant ship.

This dismissal partially contributed into her present desire to injure him.

He'd just emerged onto the deck, and made his declaration with his usual arrogant half smirk. He looked over to his first mate, winked at her in what he presumed was reassuring when he saw the disbelief in her eyes. Not a minute later, he began barking orders at everyone to set sails for Singapore and retreated into his cabin.

She'd been trying to pull him aside ever since to question his sudden decision. But he evaded her like a plague.

"All in good time, love," he finally drawled, his tone suggestive, as it always was when he spoke to members of the opposite sex. "Besides, we needed to replenish our supplies. We're running low on gun powder, cannonballs, water and food and we're going to need _a lot_ of those."

The fact that he prioritized _weapons_ didn't go unnoticed.

When they finally stepped onto the land, not a second was wasted before he led his men to his favorite brothel house disguised as a tavern.

"ONE MORE ROUND!" She heard her captain roar over the songs before silently admitting defeat. In the state that he was in, she'd be lucky if she didn't end up _carrying_ him to his room. She wasn't going to get any answers. Not tonight at least.

Sighing, she sat up, ready to leave her crew to themselves when a blur of red curls and puffed ruffles perched itself into her lap.

"Emma!" The girl, no more than nineteen screamed as she threw her arms around the blonde, "thought you could just come here without me knowing did you?"

Emma exhaled, ignoring the beer breath coming from the girl. The girl's name was Chloe. Emma had made the mistake of bedding her months back. Now, whenever the Wanted Swan so much as placed a toe on the shores of the tiny island, the greyhound disguised as a human quickly found her.

"Chloe," she tersely greeted, trying to squirm away but the smaller girl only pulled her close.

"Awww," she pouted in exaggeration, "no 'hello' kisses?" She puckered her full, heavily coated red lips and reached for Emma's face.

The blonde quickly grabbed at her jaw, her eyebrows narrowing menacingly as she held her still. "Watch yourself girl, I am in no mood for your games."

Chloe's pout seemed earnest now.

"Someone's in a foul mood," she grumbled. But then, that familiar twinkle in her eyes gleamed with an unwelcome mischief. Her fingers trailed underneath Emma's large, maroon, shirt, tracing at her collarbone as she leaned in. "Perhaps I can help you… relax?"

Emma was very close to tossing her across the table when she saw two large, familiar rings decorating an even more familiar hand fall on Chloe's shoulder.

"Chloe, darling," Killian's honey drenched voice flowed through the girl, "how lovely you look this fine night. In fact, you look," he eyed her like a lion who'd just spotted a gazelle, "absolutely ravishing."

Emma felt the girl tense on top of her. From the close proximity, she could see a natural blush colouring her cheeks underneath all that white powder. Yes, Killian Jones was a hard man to resist. Especially for a young girl like her who didn't receive a large selection of handsome clients.

"T-thank you, Captain Jones," she muttered, her arms clinging tighter around Emma.

"I've missed you sweetheart," he continued, "but my men have missed you even more so," he sighed dramatically before throwing his gaze over his shoulder. He regarded his men who were now looking at Emma with a knowing leer. Her scowl immediately encouraged them to look away. "Won't you go over and entertain them for a bit? I have business to discuss with my Swan."

_I am not your Swan_, Emma screamed internally. Killian's smirk just grew, as if he'd heard her private thoughts.

Emma felt the girl's resistance but despite the airhead she was half the time, she still knew better than to cross the infamous Hook. After all, stories of how he'd gutted men for less weren't just gossip. The man had left enough trail of blood in the sea, as if carving a path that warned anyone who'd thought to test his temper.

"Of course, Captain," she mumbled, her tone mixed with fear and apprehension. Still, she was brave enough to turn her preferred company. "I'll see you later."

Her words held the threat of a promise.

She placed a kiss on Emma's cheek, happy with the brief intimacy before she hopped off and headed towards the others.

Emma growled under her breath. "That girl needs to go settle her interests elsewhere before I skin her alive."

Killian smirked at her and breathed a soft laugh, "yes, I'm sure you'd have the heart to do that," he teased as he pulled a chair next to her. "She's a sweet girl. Enthusiastic but an unskilled flirt, unfortunately."

"Perhaps she could master her skills elsewhere," Emma retorted. Still, her muscles eased in gratitude towards her captain for removing the unwanted attention.

While her preference for bedding women was known to all, she still had certain standards. Princesses, duchesses, women of grace and elegance were the sort she enjoyed, especially when she was able to reduce them to a pile of hot liquid demanding her skilled tongue and fingers. They were a challenge. But she had to admit, her conquests never took more than three days to be fully persuaded.

A short silence passed between them, but it was a comfortable one. The noise of the tavern continued around them until Killian finally spoke.

"I suppose you must be wondering about my haste in reaching here."

Emma's shoulders tensed. She took another gulp from her mug and kept her features calmed. "Yes, Captain, I am."

Killian's face lit up with amusement and annoyed Emma instantly. He had a tendency to look at her the way an older brother did before he pulled his younger siblings into some grand trick, which somehow always managed to get everyone scrapped and bruised.

"I've recently come across some news that the Governor of Agnone has arranged a marriage for his daughter to a Mr. Leopold Roi, I'm sure you know of him."

Emma squinted as she tried to recall. "Yes," she nodded, "he expanded his wealth quickly over the past two years. There were rumors circulating that the English Queen has aided his expansion of trades since he was granted far too many royalties. What does that matter to us?"

Killian's face burst, as if he'd just been granted the key to the fountain of youth. "There're also rumors," he paused, "that he's aided by Gold."

Emma's face paled. The clamor in the inn instantly died in her ears, rage boiling underneath her skin until she gripped on her mug so hard she thought the handle might break off.

"How sure are you that there's any real credibility to this rumor."

Killian's face hardened. All humor immediately faded from his features and his lips pressed into a hard line. Emma knew that face well. Kills her childhood friend was suddenly gone and his place, was Hook. The terrorizer of oceans and a man driven by an insatiable blood lust and desire for revenge.

"Does it matter?" He asked, a dark scowl mutilating his face. "This the first we'd heard of him in _years_. We HAVE to see where the trail leads."

Emma's gaze shot up at him. This is why she never allowed herself to run wild as he often did. She needed be his conscious every once in a while, reminding him of what happens when they charge headfirst into a situation without assessing anything with evidence.

"The _last_ time we chased after him, we nearly DIED," she spoke venomously. "Need I remind you how you adorned the name 'Hook' to begin with, _Captain_?"

Very few times did Emma ever spoke of his rank with disdain and it never fared well. But, it was also a cold slap Killian needed to remember to use his fertile brain when it came to Gold.

"I am more sure of this source than I was of the other one," Killian defended. He noticed Emma's stern gaze and relaxed his muscles, allowing the boy in him to speak instead of Hook. "Emma, this is the first time we've come across his name again in six years. Are you willing to wait another six before we can _finally_ leave this life? Don't you have someone waiting for you?"

There it was. Her Achilles heel. Emma paused, her gaze distant, fixed in the past, guilt filling her eyes as she stared at the rim of her mug.

Killian knew it was a cheap shot, and he felt partially at fault. But, he also knew it was also the push she needed to get onboard with him. He needed both his first mate and his friend to be there every step of the way or else there were next to no chances of success.

This wasn't just about revenge for her. This was about getting both their lives back.

Another tune filled the air, a violin now adding to the ambience and the two realized that it was a female voice singing now.

Emma pondered over questioning Killian who his source was. But after their last incident, the Captain kept such information very close to his chest. Even from her. It was the one offense she didn't take since she knew full well that it put _him_ in the greater jeopardy.

Emma downed the remaining rum in a single draught, slamming it on the table as she exhaled deeply. The alcohol burned through her chest, dropping down to her organs until it settled in her stomach, eliciting a nice whirred sensation.

She shut her eyes thinking it was a stupid thing to do, yet exciting at the same time. She drooped over for several minutes until she regained her breath.

_To hell with it_, she eased. She could at least get drunk this one night. Her last rite of sorts before she carried out the final acts of the Wanted Swan.

"Make the plans, Captain," she stated evenly. "I'll see to it we're ready."

She stood up from her seat, one hand on the handle of the sabre that hung around her waist, bowing to Killian slightly curtly before she stalked off. She loosely wobbled her way up the stairs, and pushed a drunkard out of her way, barely even noticing that she'd thrown him off the rail. She frowned and wondered why people would build walls that moved until she finally managed to find the room she'd been given.

A cool breeze fell on her lips and she was grateful for the change of scents at least. She was mildly curious why her room was so airy when she shut the door behind her. Squeezing her eyes tight, she leaned her forehead against the door and searched for the necklace that hid between her breasts. Her charm of sorts. The clumsily shaped, silver circle was just about bigger than the size of her thumb. It was warm from being pressed against her flesh and she traced over the ineptly stamped, small engraving of a swan. Her second most precious gift in the world.

Sighing, she began to undress herself when she heard a light giggle.

She managed to pry apart her eyes far enough to see the naked body of a woman sprawled out on her bed, with her knees bent at the edge of the frame and her feet touching the ground.

"I didn't think you'd be so eager, _mistress_," Chloe drawled.

Even in the dim candlelight, Emma could see her creamy flesh inviting her attention. Her ample breasts were swollen, the nipples hard in tight peaks of aroused hunger, throbbing, begging for her touch. If her desire wasn't obvious, she could see her damp pussy and swollen clit, cum dripping between her folds at the mere thought of being taken by the great Pirate Swan.

_Jesus_, she mumbled to herself. The sudden awareness of the girl's arousal immediately bombarded her senses, making her take notice of her _scent_ as well.

She bit her lower lip and contemplated the several paths that laid open before her. The wiser choice would be to force the girl out of her bed. But then another path that quite literally bared itself open to her was just far too appealing, especially the foreseen months ahead.

Chloe licked her lips in anticipation, recognizing the dilated pupils in the pirate's eyes. She traced her fingers down her thin stomach and began lightly playing with her clit, whimpering at the first touch.

"Please, mistress," she begged raggedly, her need amplifying when she saw Emma's eyes widen at her own ministrations, "I'm so _wet _and ready for you…."

_Fuck it,_ Emma decided. She quickly knelt in front of the gift that laid open for her and swatted the hand away, earning a surprised squeak from the younger girl.

"Who told you, you could touch?"

Chloe grinned, far too eager for her own good and it only made Emma feel disgusted. Without any warning, she dug her tongue into the girl's folds, sucking and lapping greedily as she ripped her first orgasm from the whore.

"_Oh… oh god…_" the redhead could barely breathe,"_Emma… that feels… so… good… right THERE!_" Slender thighs almost trapped Emma's head as she climaxed far too quickly for the blonde's tastes. She growled against her cunt, her tongue flicking at the swollen bud, while her hands roughly forced apart the girl's legs. She suddenly pulled away, gasping for much needed air.

She heard Chloe's whimper of disapproval from the loss of contact.

In her drunken haze, she stood up and wiped the girl's juices off her jaw. Her own primal need was quickly mounting in the presence of someone so easily submitting to her.

She was barely able to pull herself on top of the girl, undoing her buttons haphazardly when Chloe noticed the body hovering over her.

Her glee was unhidden when she anxiously pulled at Emma's belt, eager to please the false idol she worshipped so dearly. When thin, long fingers entered her core, Emma bucked uncontrollably into the girl beneath her.

_I might die from this_, she thought, her mind briefly going back to Killian's words as she bit into the girl's shoulder. The girl gasped in a delicious hiss, prompting her to pull at Emma's neck, muttering away promises of undying love as she pumped into her mistress, hard and deep.

_So if I had to go_, she dropped her entire weight on the smaller body beneath her, Chloe's mindless adoration of her muffled under her shoulder. Emma grabbed onto the sheets, her vision glazing over as she felt herself drawing close.

_I'd like to have one last fuck before I did. _


	2. Set in Motion

**Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time or any recognizable characters**

**AN: Next chapter will be M-rated**

* * *

The roar of cannons was what disturbed Regina from her peaceful sleep. She roused herself from dream she was desperately clinging to, her ears drumming from the sudden onslaught of shouts and screams she heard around her. Her dazed mind was pulling itself out from the dream that had taken her to Daniel and his warm blue eyes, clear as the distant sky meeting tenderly with hers as he fed her steed with water while she brushed its flanks. How he'd shyly proposed, placing a clear gold ring on her trembling hands before she threw herself into his arms, kissing with such fervour when the joy of a thousand lifetimes filled her heart. How she'd been hurt over his sudden departure when distant family, six towns away demanded his presence, robbing her of her wedding night. Then the sweet dream flitted into a nightmare, to the morning she received a letter filled with the cold and brash news of Daniel's death – how he was murdered by robbers on his journey home.

A thunderous blast echoed the small cabin, forcing Regina out of her cot and trying to plant her feet firmly on the floor. She heard men shouting from above, orders being howled over the whistles of firing cannon balls before they made impact with The Guardian. The cracking of timber and a loud crash filled the air. She knew one of the ship's masts had fallen.

Fear overwhelmed her senses, shocking her mind back to reality as she desperately searched for her cloak. She about to make her way up to the deck when the doors blasted open.

"M'LADY!" Abele, her plump, grey-haired nursemaid charged in, her wrinkled old eyes filled with terror before she kicked the door shut behind her.

"Abey, what's happening?" Despite herself, Regina couldn't keep the fear from her voice.

Abele ignored her, her ancient, blue-veined hands trembling as she pulled Regina's cape over her bare shoulders and the nightgown she was still dressed in, wrapping her it like a blanket around a new born child.

Four times, Regina's seen her Abey this petrified. The first was when Regina had approached a snake in the garden, thinking how pretty it was when it made a wonderfully curved 'S' in the garden. Her small hands reached out to it before she was suddenly pulled back into Abey's strong arms. The second was when kicked at her horse's sides, shooting into a full-speed gallop with Abey screaming behind her to slow down before the devil chased for her life. The third time was when she noticed the look in Regina's innocent eyes when she spoke of how handsome Daniel was and how she'd marry him when she was older. Even then, she knew of how mistress Cora would never allow this marriage to happen. The fourth was when she found Regina, staring out into the mountains surrounding her home as she stood on the edge of her balcony, her eyes glazed with an emptiness too much and too raw for the new and suddenly widowed wife to have.

This marked the fifth time.

"Abey?" Regina whispered tentatively.

Finally, she looked up from the ribbons of her cloak.

"Pirates," she quivered.

Regina felt the blood in her body drop to her ankles. She felt sick inside. Abey's distant voice told her not to worry but how could she not? She'd heard vivid stories about pirates from other girls back home. They were horrible, horrible men. Rogues of the sea, the Devil's workers who plundered, murdered and raped.

Unconsciously, her hand clung to the open gape of her cloak, pulling it over her more securely.

_This can't be happening_, she thought. Fear immediately replaced by anger. Hadn't God taken enough from her? Her life? Her childhood? Her husband? Her marriage? She was already being condemned by her own parents to a loveless marriage de convenance. Now she had to deal with bloody pirates?

A low growl escaped her throat. Abey was hurrying around the room, looking for things to take with them on their _escape_. But, Regina knew better. Even with her knowledge of navigation and star reading, they were too far from the closest shores to be able to _paddle_ their way. And even then, there was a matter of food and water. The pirates would have overrun them by the time they managed to gather and prepare for all they needed.

Regina's dark lips pursed into a hard line, her brows furrowing in contemplation. Her dowry, she realized. The sizable offering embezzled from the pockets of her father's citizens through a form of _taxes_. That should be enough at least to barter for her life.

"We must get ready child," Abey was stuttering, "we have to-"

A sudden jarring of the vessel told them that another ship had come up against their own. Shouting could be heard, and gunfire, and the sickening sounds of screams – men screaming as they met their deaths.

Abey had sunk to her knees to pray. Regina refused to join. If God wanted to take _more_ from her, she'd be damned if she then chose to pray to _Him_ for help.

It wasn't too long before another presence graced her small cabin. A short, bald man with yellowing teeth and a stench strong enough even to pervade over the air filled with burnt gunpowder, held a pistol to her face.

Abey's praying intensified.

Regina on her part, reclaimed the aristocracy in her and stood up taller, with her chin in the air.

The man smirked at her obvious display before he roared out into the hall. "CAP'N! THE WENCH IS DOWN HERE!"

"WELL, BRING HER UP THEN!" Another voice bellowed from above.

Regina wasn't sure why she was suddenly so furious at being referred to as if she weren't there. Not when there were far dire matters going on.

The pistol cocked and the man waved the gun to her. "You heard 'im lass, move it!"

With Abey at her side, Regina moved to the deck.

A black fog greeted her first, making her immediately squint. Her long, dark mane flew gently against the wind, setting an odd irony against the turmoil on the vessel. She came upon a crowd that was obviously not the crew of her own ship. The men were a rowdy, unkempt bunch. Some wore no shirts, others wore only short vests to cover their bare chests, and most were bare-footed. Many wore golden rings to their ears, and all were heavily bearded.

They were all staring at her like she was a piece of meat.

Swallowing the dryness in her throat, she shouted out, "I DEMAND TO SEE YOUR CAPTAIN!"

Everyone looked at her like she grew a third head. Finally, a light snicker erupted from the men.

"Do you now?" A voice, traced with a bit of humour, came from behind. Regina turned to see a man step down from the quarterdeck. He stood in command, dressed in a dark coat with large collars and a scarlet vest underneath sewn with silver buttons, black trousers and murky boots that went up to his knees. Despite herself, she had to admit he was roguishly handsome.

"And what might you want to say to the captain?" He teased, the way you would a child.

Regina bit back her pride, "I have no knowledge of what you seek on this vessel but if it's loot you want there is a large chest of cold and silver below deck. Take it and leave us with our lives."

The captain cocked his dark eyebrow and breathed a soft laugh. "I see," he began to circle her, "suppose I were to do this, what else might you have to offer me that might… _entice _me to consider this deal."

Regina may not have actually been bedded by a man but she wasn't naive enough to misinterpret what a man wants when they look at you the way he was looking at her now. Still, she refused to give him the satisfaction of her squirming. "Return me to my home safely and I will ensure that my father will give you more than enough to pay for your troubles."

The tall man crossed his elbows and began scratching his hand with – a hook – Regina realized and immediately knew who he was. _Demon of the sea_, some called him. Notorious for targeting only ships laced with the crowns' authority and sometimes, those of merchants. So what business did he have attacking hers?

"Now that does sound fairly appealing," he drawled. Suddenly he was inches away from her ear, sending a cold shiver down her back as his breath touched her hair. "But _perhaps_, you can still _sweeten _the deal, my love."

Regina's hand flew up to him, ready to wipe that smirk off his face when she felt something grab at her wrist. Captain Hook had jumped away, his hand and hook up in the air in disguised amusement when she turned to who held her.

Regina felt the wind knocked out of her lungs. Sea-green eyes stared at her with the stern disapproval, glaring beneath the perfectly curved brows that narrowed at her. Thin, flushed lips formed an angry curl barely noticeable unless you were this close to her face. Her golden-tanned skin gleamed underneath the sun, her blonde hair flying lightly underneath the dark, olive green bandana that wrapped securely around her head. A sudden scent of sandalwood and cinnamon filled her nostrils, suddenly making her feel weak at the knees.

"Keep your hands to yourself," she said dryly, her breath tickling her lips as she did. All Regina could think of was how tall this woman was, how she must seem tiny and frail in comparison.

The woman let go of her hand and Regina unconsciously clutched at her, savouring the tingling sensation she felt at her bare skin.

_What… what was that? _She wondered. But whatever she felt, the woman seemed oblivious to it.

"We're not interesting in your gold, girl," the Captain spoke, his hand clutching at the hook of his belt, "but we will be needing you for a much, much better deal. Take her to brigs."

Abele regained herself at that. "KEEP YOUR DIRTY PAWS OFF HER!" The old woman reached for Regina but the tall blonde kept her at bay. At an old age, close to seventy, there wasn't much fight she had in her that could knock the stronger woman away from her.

"And who's this?" Hook asked, his eyes showing his diminishing patience.

"My nursemaid," Regina answered hurriedly, "she's a harmless old woman, there's no need to hurt her."

Hook seemed to ponder for a moment. "Why waste a good blade on her? Besides, we need someone close to you as proof to take the message that we have Regina Mills as hostage. To the brigs with her," he pointed at Abele, until his eyes fell on Regina. She really didn't like how he was looking at her, "and put _her_ in Swan's cabin."

_First Mate Swan_, Regina quickly recalled the stories she'd heard of the female pirate that plagued the seven seas. The right hand of the devil. There was the tale of how she escaped Queen's guards when they were brining her in for questioning under the most fortified prison of all of England. Then there was the impossible victory led by her when flanked with two opposing ships that had captured her captain and with the winds and the seas against her, she still managed to regain her master.

Regina's eyes darted back to the woman, and noticed how she glowered at her, creating an unwelcome blush on her cheeks and then sent a murderous glare at Hook.

"Captain, I really don't think that is necessa-"

"Nonsense!" Hook interrupted, smiling lazily. "You need some _fun_ on this trip Swan, consider it as my gift to you."

He waved his hand, airing a signal for the end of the conversation.

Regina heard the clutters and clicks of boots on the timber floor before she was horded onto the Black Stache.


End file.
