When the prince jabbed him with his dagger, he felt it. A sharper pain than he could ever remember; worse than when he lost his hand, worse than when he broke his leg as a boy.

Worse than when Liam died.

What? Who was Liam?

Worse than when Milah died.

Where was this coming from?

The clatter of his sword on the ground hit him like déjà vu.

"A man unwilling to fight for what he wants deserves what he gets." It was his own voice, but darker and far more confident.

As the blood started to pool out from him, memories came rushing in. Happy ones, painful ones, all a jumbled mess, forcing two very different lives together in a moment of mayhem.

"I never did like pirates," the prince whispered, dark and heavy in his ear.

"You're nothing but a pirate," the same voice told him in a warning tone.

And he realized what his still-outstretched arm was reaching for. Blonde hair, shining like the sun, framing green eyes.

"When I win your heart, Emma—and I will win it…" His confidence was supported only by his hope.

He collapsed when the blade was removed; her shouts rang in his ears as his vision blurred and blackened. Memories of her converged at once, easing the searing pain.

"I can't lose you, too." Tears threatened to spill as she looked at him with the adoration he had long returned.

She was the last thing he saw before he succumbed to the peaceful darkness. One last moment trickled in.

"Don't you know, Emma? It's you."