Heavy is the head that wears the crown.

The crown itself wasn't heavy; a thin, curved piece of finely hammered metal, decorated with the finest gems, and worth her weight in gold. No, the true weight of the crown was the implications, the demands that came with being the ruler. One day. She had time before she truly ruled.

Emma would rather be sent to the frozen North without warm clothes than rule Mist Haven. Perhaps it was because her life as the princess had been one without many pleasures. She was kept under constant supervision, hidden behind the walls, and out of the public's sight. She doubted the kingdom even knew what she looked like.

Did she have raven hair like her mother or was she fair like her father? It probably didn't matter to them either, so long as she was their promised ruler, the savior of them all.

That was the weight of her crown. That one little word. Savior.

She all but threw her book across the room. Another story that left a dissatisfying taste on her tongue. Princesses were always painted as being chaste, doe-eyed, girls, dreaming of a white knight in shining armor, sweeping them off their feet.

How wrong could the authors be?

Emma's dreams involved rescuing herself. Because in real life, white knights didn't show up in a timely fashion and if they did, there was a good chance they were actually scumbags who were eyeing her for her title.

For a young woman who had barely seen the outside world, Emma found herself to be incredibly jaded and disenchanted by her future prospects. She would be crowned as the new ruler in a few short weeks, her parents would arrange an advantageous marriage for her, and her life as Mist Haven's Savior would begin. Prophecies spoke of her future. Stories were told before she had even been born, ones that spawned into great legends about what she would bring to the world at large.

Hope.

After years of fighting the Evil Queen, the kingdom would finally have the hero they had awaited. The one who could end her reign of terror.

But Emma wanted nothing to do with the stories, the legends, the prophecies. Because she was the author of her own story and she wasn't about to let anyone fill the pages of her life for her.

Ten years later…

Emma had few places in the kingdom where she was able to be truly be alone. Even in her bedchamber she had a constant stream of servants and lady's maids coming in to ensure that she had everything her heart could desire.

Freedom. No one could bring her that.

There was one place though. Her childhood nursery; still adorned with the decorations that had filled her mind with fantasies as a young girl. The ceiling depicted a story that she had created as she laid beneath it. The panels had the sun and the mood, a beanstalk growing up into the sky. As a child she dreamed up an adventure where a young princess met some dashing man and went on a journey to find a magic bean.

Even now, at twenty-five, she found herself drawn to the paintings and statues in the nursery. The knight – which she always pretended was her father and the sailor – her lover, some seaworn Captain that had swept her off her feet. Now, of course, she knew love wasn't as simple as that. Not everyone got a fairytale marriage like her parents or like the stories in the books. Some people ended up like her, with a series of unfortunate suitors, and a vow that she would never marry because no one could handle the stress of her life.

But her parents were determined that by the end of the year she would marry and settle into her namesake as Savior of Mist Haven and she would begin her rule and bring back the lands they had lost to the Evil Queen. And the princess was not interested in any of that.

For weeks she watched the guards' nightly routine, learning exactly when they changed guard, how long posts were left unattended, all in preparation for making her break. She had no plan, aside from getting the hell out of Mist Haven, beyond that she would take what she could find and beg, borrow, and steal her way out of the kingdom to see the worlds beyond her own. Few people knew what she looked like beyond the immediate tenants surrounding the castle, no one would know it was her. She would be someone else entirely, a creation of her own, a woman unbound by legends and lore and expectations.

She could be Hope or Leia or anyone.

Tonight she was Princess Emma one final time. She would down her ball regalia, smile and nod and curtsey, and vanish into the night before the first light of a new morning. The dawning of a new age. Tomorrow morning the kingdom would wake up, excepting to celebrate her coronation and she would be gone.

Emma escaped from the castle with her ball gown still on, she didn't want to take the risk of being interrupted by a hand maiden or have her mother come into her chamber to have some long winded conversation about how difficult it was to rule. Once she was beyond the castle walls she would find some clothing line with something she could change into. One step closer to freedom.

The princess' fingers curled around the material of her dress as she hauled it upwards, trying not to get snagged on any of the brush and branches as she hurried long the winding footpath that led around the village. She kept to the shadows, knowing she wasn't dressed covertly by any means. The forest was dark, the sliver of a moon above barely illuminating the path before her. Her heart pounded in her chest, fear, excitement, and adrenaline pumping through her veins.

It was either a terrible mistake or the beginning of a new life.

"Halt!"

Emma came to an abrupt stop as the figure emerged from the tree line. Clad in armor, the imposing figure stood squarely in front of her, fingers curling around the hilt of his blade at his hip. She didn't recognize the armor… it wasn't her kingdom's coat of arms designed on the breast plate.

"Please remove yourself from my path," Emma said with a levelling gaze, starting at the eye holes in his helmed which prohibited her from seeing who he was.

"There's a tax imposed on this stretch of road. I would hate for anything untoward to happen to you m'lady." The knight drawled out, fingers flexing as he released the handle of his sword. "Empty your pockets and allow me to collect what is due."

Emma arched a brow, "I'm fully aware that there is no such thing as a tax on this path." She said crisply, her hands going to her hips. She had a blade in her boot if worst came to worst, though she knew a short blade was no match to a sword. But she could manage, she was sure of herself.

"It's a new tax passed this evening by the kingdom."

She laughed loudly, "You think I'm a fool knight?" Emma narrowed her eyes, pressing her tongue to the inside of her cheek. "Remove yourself you filthy mongrel."

The knight cocked his head to one side. "That's no way to address a knight, m'lady. I'm terribly afraid I'll have to-"

Emma bent down in one quick motion and drew the blade from her boot, brandishing it at the man. "Don't come another step closer." She warned, taking a step backwards as he took one forwards. "I'm not kidding."

He laughed. A loud, boisterous laugh that all but echoed off of the trees surrounding them. "You're quite the cantankerous one." He commented as he removed his helmet, revealing his face to her.

He was more than a little unfair. She'd never seen a man that made her heart flutter the way that he did.

"You threatened me."

He glanced down at the hilt of the blade, "So I did. Though, let me just clarify that any blade of mine you feel, will be much to your liking."

Emma rolled her eyes, lowering her guard. "Charming."

"It's the simple facts sweetheart."

Emma waved her hand dismissively, an action she'd all but perfected when she'd had to sit at meetings at the round table. "Not interested." She said with an arched brow, "Though I am interested in continuing with my journey, so if you'll excuse me."

She'd barely made it past him before he was grabbing her rucksack and keeping her there. "Not so fast princess."

Emma gave the man a disinterested look, "Unhand me." Her fingers were curled tightly around the handle of her blade, her eyes glaring upwards into his blue eyes.

"I mean no harm," He remarked, though he hadn't released her rucksack yet. "I'm just curious to know why a lass dressed as such is stomping around the forest so late at night."

Emma rolled her eyes, "Curiosity killed the cat."

"Touché." He chuckled and released her. "I should warn you though, there are far more devious men than me that haunt this path. Lost a man not even a fortnight ago to some rouges down the end of Burwind Road."

"Ah, a rouge warning of other rouges. Be still my heart." Emma said dryly, levelling him with a firm look. "I can take care of myself, thank you."

The false-knight grabbed her wrist, easily deflecting the blade from her hand, and in a rush of movement he had her on her back on the ground, the harsh angles of his armor biting into her soft curves beneath him.

Fear lanced through the princess. She brought her knee up between his legs, ready to do some serious harm to the knight, but she noted the look of amusement on his face, not malice. He was laughing.

"Get off of me!" Emma ordered him, shoving at his chest.

"I thought you could take care of yourself, lass?" He remarked with a mocking tone, pushing himself off of her.

"I can." She insisted. "You caught me off guard. You're lucky that our sword is still intact."

"I am shaking in my boots." He laughed, shaking his head. "Now, lass, I'm about to say something you're probably going to vehemently detest. But, with a good conscious I can't rightly leave you out here to fall prey to the true wolves of the forest. Not all men out here will knock you off your feet to prove a point."

Emma swallowed thickly as she brushed the dirt off of her dress. "You're not actually offering to protect me are you? Because I'm not interested and I have no means to repay you." She had plenty of gold in the pouch that was concealed beneath her dress, but she wasn't going to give it off to some vagabond on the road.

"Perhaps I'm not asking for compensation out of it." He said with a smile that was just a little too charming.

"How do I know you're not one of those true wolves you mentioned?" Her hands went to her hips. "You are after all falsely advertising yourself as a knight of Mist Haven, wearing armor from… the gods only know what that symbol's supposed to be." She gestured to the breast plate of his armor. "I don't even know your name."

"Killian Jones," He said with a sweeping bow, before he held up his left hand which was stiff as a board. "Better known as Captain Hook in most circles, though, I've gone without my trusty hook tonight."

"Captain Hook? As in the infamous pirate?" There was a flash of excitement in her eyes that she was sure he saw despite how quickly she extinguished it. "What's a pirate Captain doing in the middle of a forest?"

He made a face, "Ah, well that's a story for another day." Killian smiled at her. "I won't ask why you're running if you don't ask why I'm here." He scratched at the back of his neck. "But if anyone asks, I've been going by Davy around these parts."

Emma arched a brow. "Davy Jones?" She snorted. "You're like a page torn out of my books." She scrunched up her nose. "Forget that."

"Have you got a name lass?"

She hesitated for too long. He'd know it was a false name. But where was the harm in that? "Hope."

"Doesn't suit you," Killian said as his eyes raked over her again. "If you intend to continue along this path, we've got to find you something better to wear."

Emma bit down on her bottom lip. "I'd planned to steal something from one of the villagers." They were only a few hundred yards from the outskirts of the village. It was just a little bit further down the path.

"My men and I have a camp on the opposite side of the village," He explained, scratching at the back of his ear in a strangely endearing fashion. "You're welcome to join us… or you're welcome to continue on your journey."

Emma's head was telling her to continue on her original plan, but her heart was telling her something entirely different. There was nothing dangerous about this man, despite his rough edges. He'd had the opportunity to cause her serious harm, but instead he'd offered to help her.

"Where do you intend to go next?" Emma questioned, her eyes full of hope. She had no set destination herself.

"We'd hoped to head for Avalon in the next few days."

"Avalon." She'd read about it in her nursery books. "I can't wait to see it."