Chapter One

The sun had only just cleared the mountains and the Rookery market was already alive with activity. It had rained during the night, turning the dirty street into a thick, muddy mess. People rushed to finished business before the sun rose high in the sky and drew out the unbearable smell that accompanied the Rookery during the summer months. Vendors called out in the labyrinth of stores, hoping to grab the attention of potential customers. Occasionally one would stop his spruik to warn off a lingering prostitute or street urchin, only to continue on as if nothing had happened.

A thickset man with a round face and thin moustache stood on a wooden stool and called out into morning air.

"Fresh fish, caught straight from the harbor this morning. Fresh fish!"

Emma Swan watched from her own stall as Aldus Rolfe attempted to sell his fish to an older woman and then laughed when she dismissed him. Rolfe was widely known among the market vendors as 'the wolf', and although regular customers knew not to buy his questionable items, visitors did not. Rolfe was known to lift a few items from other vendors, or raid the Castles waste carts. Sometimes, if he was feeling extra plucky, he would attempt to pilfer a royal supply carriage. But Emma had only heard of that happening once, and the driver and guard had been executed as a result.

"Something funny girl?" He sneered as he stepped down from his stool.

"Your fish are rotting sir, yet you call them fresh." She said.

The man smoothed his moustache with his sweaty hand and drew closer to Emma. "And what would a slave girl know of the freshness of fish." Emma blanched at his words, but kept her face expressionless.

"I know they should not be covered in maggots." She said loudly, so passers by could hear. Emma knew she should have kept her mouth shut. He was by no means a Nobleman, but there was still a hierarchy within the common folk, and although Rolfe was just a common thief, she knew crossing him would not do her well.

The man's face flushed a deep red and his lips thinned. Anger burned in his eyes. "Hold your tongue slave, or I shall inform your master of your insolence. I'm sure you wouldn't want any more scars on that pretty back of yours."

Emma fought to keep her face expressionless, but she could feel the heat rising under her skin. It had been so long since the last time a whip had touched her back. She was only ten years old the first time she was whipped. She had tried to escape her master, but he had somehow tracked her down and brought her back. It had taken her a full week to recover from that lashing, but a full turn of the moon later and she had tried again, this time telling herself she would be smarter. But her master continued to track her down and at the age of seventeen she had finally accepted her fate, and no longer attempted to run. She had still endured the whip when she spoke out of turn or failed to comply with her master's wishes in a timely manner. But lately the will to hold her head up and carry on had died, and she felt like an empty vessel.

So there stood Rolfe, reminding Emma of her eternal leash, and she could not help the words as they sprung from her mouth.

"I have no master." She had meant to hold her head high in defiance, but she knew the mistake she had made the moment she said those words.

The man's eyes flashed dangerously and grabbed her wrist in an instant and flipped it over. Emma barked a protest but the man held her wrist tightly to reveal the brand of the slaves. She had received it decades ago, but she could still feel the searing heat as if it was yesterday.

"Don't insult my intelligence girl. Every leader of the Rookery knows that 'the pretty young blonde' belongs to Rumplestiltskin." He released her and Emma rubbed her wrist in hopes to erase his touch.

Once again Emma felt the heat rise and debated whether or not her next words would be worth the lashing she would surely receive once Rolfe had whispered in Rumplestiltskin's ear. A fire that Emma had feared was whipped from her, suddenly returned and swirled dangerously in her chest.

"You are mistaken sir. You have no intelligence to insult."

Emma had no time to react; Rolfe had raised his hand so fast that she hadn't realized he had struck her until the force of the slap had caused her to fall to the ground. A painful ringing filled her head and she held onto her cheek, but the heat of her hand only worsened the sting.

"You dare strike a woman." A voice spoke from behind her.

"Shove off!" Rolfe grunted in reply.

But before Emma could turn and see whom the voice belonged too, a closed fist connected with Rolfe's jaw and knocked him to the ground.

"What the bloody hell-" Rolfe swore as he tried to sit up, but a foot pushed him back down into the mud and remained sitting on his chest.

"Are you okay my Lady?" The stranger asked as he extended his hand to Emma.

She tried to hide the sharp intake of air as she finally looked upon her savior. His black hair shone in the morning sun and rippled in the slight breeze that came in from the harbor. His face was handsome and clean, too clean for a place like the Rookery. But it was his eyes that caught Emma's attention; so blue that she though she was staring into endless, cloudless sky. She opened her mouth to say something, but her words failed her.

"Get your ruddy foot off me." Rolfe cried. And the stranger tore his eyes from Emma and looked down at the lump of a man at his feet.

"Touch this woman again and I shall gut you like the rotting fish you are trying to sell." The stranger then used his foot to roll Rolfe away from him, and then he turned his attention back to Emma, outstretching his hand once more.

Emma cocked her head. He wore the clothes of a commoner; A tunic the colour of sand and black trousers and leggings. Though he wore clothes of a common man, the materiel was brand new and his boots shone to brightly. He stuck out like a sore thumb in a place like this.

Emma hesitated for a moment before she finally placed her hand in his open palm and let him pull her from the muddy ground. But as he helped her steady her self, his eyes flicked to the brand on her wrist and Emma yanked it from his grip.

"I am no Lady." Emma said, confirming he had indeed seen the brand of the slaves on her wrist.

"A slave? I did not know there were slaves in this kingdom." His Adams Apple bobbed.

"You must not be from around here." She said as she tried to tidy her dress.

"I've lived here since I was a boy."

Emma raised an eyebrow suspiciously. "Then you delude yourself sir." And she turned from the stranger and returned to her stall.

The man stood still, as if her words had stung him, and then he turned on his heels as if he was to leave, but then stalked back over to where Emma sat.

"Do I not get a thank you?" He asked.

Emma sucked in a breath and turned her burning gaze to the man. "Shall I thank you for no doubt ensuring I will be whipped tonight?" She held his eyes, daring him say something.

But she wasn't sure why she had said that. This man had obviously seen a woman in distress and acted on instinct.

A man raised right. She thought.

But the road to hell is paved with good intentions, and Rolfe was probably on his way to Rumplestiltskin at that very moment.

"I- I'm sorry." He took a step closer to Emma, his eyes fierce with regret. "I only meant to-"

Emma held up her hand to silence him and let out a long sigh. "I know what you meant sir. You obviously do not know how things work around here. I thank you for your help." Emma reached for a golden trinket that lay on the table and handed it the dark haired man. "A token of my appreciation."

The man looked down at the golden swan that now lay in his hand, and examined it closer. "Did you make this?"

Emma nodded. "My master provides me with the gold to craft these trinkets to sell."

The man's face paled when she mentioned her master, and Emma felt guilty for a second before it quickly evaporated.

Good. She thought. This man is obviously not commoner. Left him see what really goes on in the Rookery.

The man swallowed a lump in his throat, and opened his mouth as if to say something but quickly shut it again. His eyes held her own for what felt like an eternity before his eyes snapped up to the entrance of the Market and he swore softly under his breath.

"I must take my leave. But I have a request. Tell me your name."

Emma stared at him for a moment, unsure, before she said: "Emma Swan."

A smile pulled at his lips as he understood the significance of the trinket she gave him, and then he ran into the sea of people. And Emma couldn't help but smile at the mysterious man who had come to her aid. And as she turned to look at what had spooked the man, she noticed some palace guards talking to Rolfe, and she swore herself. No that man was not a commoner. And as she watched the palace guards search through the market, she wondered who the mysterious man with the molten blue eyes was.

Thank you for taking the time to read my fist attempt at a Captain Swan story. I thought I'd start with a short chapter to see if anyone is interested. Any commentary would be greatly appreciated.