She's wearing a deep blue dress. Her black hair is tied in braids, and her lips are red as blood. She's saying something to him, but he can't understand what it is.
He reaches for her and she screams. "KILLIAN!"
He sits up with a jolt. His heart is racing and his palms are sweating. He had fallen asleep at his work bench again.
With a sigh he stokes the embers of the dying fire and he wipes beads of sweat from his brow. Would he never have relief from the nightmares? From her?
It didn't look that way.
It had been three damn years. But nothing helped.
Not alchol.
Not women.
Only the feel of metal and the heat of the fire on his face.
All his life he's loved the things he can make with his hands. And he's made many things. From swords, to iron bars for the dungeouns in the castle. Sure people said he was a hermit, but he didn't care. Because they all knew he was the best damn blacksmith in all of Arendelle.
When he knows the steel is hot enough he places it on his anvil. He swings downward with all his might and the iron relases a sharp high note as it yields beneath his hammer. The sound drives away her high pitched screams for a moment.
He works into the wee hours of the morning. Hammering, heating, and hammering some more. Finally, the work is finished.
The next day; the royal guard shows up. A dwarf with a hard face comes into his shop. He picks up the sword and studies it closely.
"It fits the description that the King gave me."
"I'll be the judge of that," a deep male voice says. Killian bows low as the King himself enters into his shop. Usually royalty just sent their lackeys to do their business.
"To what do I owe the honor, your highness?"
"This is to be a gift for my daughter for her twenty first birthday. I want to make sure that it's perfect."
"Of course," Killian answers as he bows again.
The King's eyes roam over the sword, analyzing every inch. "Yes, this is a lovely instrument. Emma will love it," he reaches into his robes and gives him a very full bag of golden coins. "The promised price."
"Thank you, Sir."
He bows again and the King dissapears out the door and Killian thinks that's the last of it.
But two days later there is a very distressed knock on his front door in the hours of wee morning.
"Who is there?" He groans as he stands from his cot.
"Open up this instant!" A female hisses.
"What do you want?"
"I want to speak to Killian Jones this instant!"
He opens the door. The maiden's face is hidden but she's holding the sword he made.
"How did you get that?"
She pulls back the hood and his stomach nearly falls out his ass. Because the Princess of Misthaven is standing in his doorway.
"Your majesty!" He exclaims. "Is there something wrong with the sword? I made it to your father's specifications..."
"That's exactly the problem!"
"Daddy issues?"
She glares at him. "Watch your mouth, blacksmith."
"Forgive me, Your Majesty. What can I do for you?"
"You can take the sword back."
"What?"
She shoves it towards him. "Take it back. I don't want it."
He blinks. "Really, Your Highness, I could make it to your specifications. I could change it."
"That's not the problem!"
"What is?"
She growls and throws the sword on the ground with a clang and his stomach clenches. Her eyes are flashing wildly.
"Hide that sword. And do not tell my father I was here."
She rushes out into the black night and he's left standing staring at the sword in confusion.