Killian Jones's hook bounced uselessly off the magical ice wall with a harsh, metallic clang. He vaguely noted David - Prince Bloody Charming's - admonishments. The sounds twisted spitefully in his mind, echoing his own words back at him…words about how someday he'd stop following this woman. Emma. His Emma. He'd traded his ship to find her once before. He'd trade his very soul to be able to follow her right now.

"David!" Mary Margaret hissed.

"What is it?" he asked, instantly at her side, wrapping his arm around her.

"There is a pirate in our living room, cuddling our daughter!"

He chuckled at that, and it was all Mary Margaret could do to keep from stamping her foot in frustration.

"There certainly is."

"David. This is not funny! This is our daughter!"

"Yes, she is. And if Emma didn't want Killian right where he is, doing just what he's doing, you know very well he'd be laid out on the floor with a fat lip, hypothermia or no."

She glanced up at him, worry still clouding her eyes. "I suppose so, but…"

David wrapped his arms more firmly around his wife and turned her to face him. "I'm surprised at you. Can't you recognize True Love when it's staring you right in the face?"

"He's a pirate!"

"You didn't see his eyes, when we were trying to get Emma back. He would have clawed his way through that ice wall with his bare hands."

"He's only got one," Mary Margaret corrected absently.

"Exactly. He would have done anything to get her back safely."

She sighed discontentedly and laid her head on David's shoulder. "He's not what I wanted for her."

"He's what she wants."

"I know…but…our daughter was meant to be a princess, and grow up in a castle, and-"

"And meet a prince, who would love and cherish her for always. Yeah, I know. But Emma is a princess, even if she never wears a tiara again. And she inspires him to be a better man. Isn't that what it truly means to be a princess?"

Mary Margaret glanced once more to her daughter, and the man in battered black leather who was caring for her so tenderly, then back up to her husband's face. "When did you get so smart?"

"Well, I married you, didn't I?"

David walked over to check on his daughter, still safely cocooned in the arms of her pirate. "How is she?" he murmured.

"Sleeping, I think," Killian replied quietly. "She's warm enough now for that to be safe, isn't she?"

David gently touched Emma's cheek and smiled in relief. "Yeah. I think she's fine, now. How are you holding up?" He realized guiltily that the pirate captain had been kneeling on the wooden floor beside Emma's chair for quite some time, now.

"I'm fine, mate," Hook replied stalwartly.

"You can't be very comfortable," David said dubiously.

"She's not pushing me away. I'll stay as long as she'll have me."

"I was just thinking…if we moved her to her room, you'd both be a lot more comfortable."

Hook cocked his head to the side to look up at David, one eyebrow raised in surprise. "I expect that's the first time I've ever heard a lass's father make a suggestion like that."

"And I expect she'll let you know in fairly short order if you cross any lines."

David couldn't resist smirking just a bit as he helped the pirate captain to stand, carefully cradling Emma in his arms.

Emma stretched languorously, finally - finally - comfortable, and relaxed, and not shivering. The warm breath on the back of her neck, and the strong arm draped over her waist, made her feel safe and cherished, and she allowed herself to revel in that feeling. Sighing contentedly, she slid her hand along Killian's forearm, thinking drowsily to link her hand with his. But instead of his warm hand, she encountered - nothing.

"I'm sorry, love," Killian murmured. "I took it off last night…I didn't want to hurt you accidentally. I know it's a bit…off putting. I…I'll just…"

Emma's eyes snapped open as she felt him move to get up. She noticed then both his hook and his black leather coat discarded on a chair. His armor - put aside for her. Before Killian could move, she pulled his arm tighter around herself. Leaning down slightly, she placed a delicate kiss to the pulse point of his wrist, then another to the stump of his hand.

Emma thought she heard him sigh her name as another wave of exhaustion claimed her.