barefoot glove

The Long Way Home (5/10)

I’m so excited to finally get to release this chapter! It contains a few of my favorite scenes, a couple of which you got to preview in the snippets. Be sure to check out the gorgeous art by @waiting-for-autumn that accompanies this installment. I hope you enjoy! Thanks to you all for your continued support. Your comments give me life!

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.

The morning air is warm and balmy, but the breeze that greets Swan as she emerges above deck is still a great relief from the stifling heat of the space below.  It’s just over two weeks into their journey, and they’ve crossed into the tropics – the hottest part of the oceans – with the weather growing steadily less comfortable with each passing day.  The crew has taken to seeking shade whenever possible, and today she’s elected to join most of them in going barefoot, her jerkin and gloves also left behind in her berth and her shirttail fluttering loose.  

“’Morning, milady,” Smee calls from above.

She shields her eyes and cranes her head upward to see the bare-headed first mate climbing down the standing rigging. “’Morning, Mr. Smee.”

“It’s going to be a hot one,” he comments, jumping down.  He pulls out his red cap and mops his brow with it before tucking it back into his belt.

Swan rolls up her shirt sleeves, squinting at the eight o’clock sun and leaning her back against the side of the ship.  “Yeah. Is this typical?”

“It’s been a while since we’ve been in this part of the world at this time of the year,” Smee admits, sidestepping a passing crewman to stand next to her.  He leans on the gunwhale and looks out over the azure landscape.  “But this is warmer than I remember.  The men are talking about sleeping on deck tonight.  It’s getting too thick down below.”

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