"Oi, let's see it, then," calls the barkeep, pounding on the bar until the tavern quiets down.
Emma winks at her opponent before turning back to the target, letting the dart fly with an easy flick of her wrist. It soars through the air, landing neatly at the very center of the board, and the tavern erupts around her. Someone shoves a tankard of beer into her hand, nearly spilling it with their enthusiasm. A hand-no, several hands thump her on the back, and she can just hear the clatter of glasses smashing together over the roar of excited voices. Working her way back over to the corner booth, where she can see Elsa is doubled over with laughter, she walks straight into a man's shoulder.
"Oh, sorry," she says, letting them reach out to steady her, "didn't see you there."
"And I didn't expect to see you here, Your Highness." The familiar voice, soft as it is, cuts easily through the mayhem around her, and Emma mentally swears a blue streak as she looks up.
"Captain Jones," she says, immediately baring her teeth in her most dazzling, princess-y smile. "What a pleasant surprise."
"Indeed, Your Highness." He inclines his head in a slight bow, biting back a smile of his own, but she can see the dimples flashing in his cheeks. "It's not often that one gets to see their future Queen in the local tavern, much less winning at darts."
"It's hardly the first time you've seen it," she points out, bumping her tankard against his chest.
"That's true." Drawing her over to the side of the room, he puts himself between the crowd (now singing a bawdy song about her parents, much to her embarrassment). "Might I assume that Queen Elsa is here, as well?"
"You can assume whatever you wish." Raising an eyebrow imperiously, she crosses her arms, trying not to blush as the crowd begins the second verse of the song. "Now, Captain Jones, if you don't mind, I'll return to my seat."
"Certainly."
"And I'll thank you not to mention this to your brother."
Silence.
He isn't smirking at her- Emma has never seen Liam Jones smirk, not once- but she can feel it in the way he's looking at her, even if his face isn't betraying him.
Suspicion rises immediately, and she frowns, narrowing her eyes. "Captain Jones."
"Yes, Your Highness?"
"He sent you, didn't he?" she says, heaving a sigh.
"On the contrary," Liam beams down at her. "He came after you himself. I'm merely here for the darts."
"What?"
"I'm rather good-"
"Not the darts-" She peers around him, squinting through the dim light of the tavern and the excitable crowd. "He's here?"
"Fortunately, I persuaded him to wait outside. Bad luck, and all that," Liam says cheerfully. "But he insisted that we come."
"Why? It's perfectly safe, nobody recognizes me without the tiara. Although," she mutters, lowering her voice as someone glances in their direction, "with you here Your Highness-ing me left and right, that might not be the case for much longer."
"He was worried about you." He takes the tankard out of her hand, reaching over her head to set it on top of a nearby shelf. "Quite honestly, he's right. With everyone arriving-"
Emma's eyes flash. "I can handle myself."
"As the many bruises I've received from you over the years will attest. You're a marvel with a sword, Your Highness," Liam agrees. "That doesn't mean that it's safe for you to come gallivanting down to the tavern with nothing but gambling money and two other royals, especially when all of you would certainly fetch an enormous ransom."
He's right, she knows it, and she grimaces. She knows better, truly she does- with Regina still on the periphery of their lives, lost to the madness of a failed curse but still filled with power; with half the other kingdoms still in an uproar over Emma's choices; with the future of Misthaven resting on how she handles the next few weeks- but gods, she's missed her freedom over the past year. But she'd promised everyone that she wouldn't go out without back-up, and she's kept her word, until tonight.
The problem, of course, is that she couldn't bring her usual back-up with her tonight.
"He's outside?" she asks, meeting his gaze again.
"Yes, Your Highness. Around the back. I'd be happy to-"
"Captain Jones, why don't you go check on Queen Elsa?" she interrupts, smiling as he flushes at the mention of Elsa's name. "I'll go speak with him."
"As you wish." He offers a short bow before disappearing into the crowd, heading for Emma's friend. She waves at Elsa, pointing to Liam (and grinning when the woman immediately begins fussing with her hair) before fighting her way to the tavern door.
The midsummer air, warm though it is, feels cool against her flushed cheeks. With the door closed, she can barely hear the chaos from the tavern; it's so quiet, she can almost hear the faint crash of the waves nearby. Emma sweeps her hair out of her face, turning the corner to the back of the tavern in a few quick strides. Under the silvery light of the full moon, she can just see the back of Killian's head as he stares out over the harbor.
"Afraid I'd change my mind?" she calls. "Were you thinking I might take to the sea?"
"I do know your type, love, and it's dashing sailors," he says, not turning around.
"Mmm," she agrees, reaching for his hand and giving it a squeeze. "Scoundrels, too. Particularly ones who help princesses sneak out of their towers to go on adventures."
"Can't imagine what you'd want with a man like that."
"Nor can I," she says. "That's why I was running off with Captain Liam Jones, the most respectable man in the entire kingdom. You've foiled our elopement, Killian."
"My apologies, Your Highness." He keeps his eyes averted from her face, but she can see a smile tugging at the corner his lips.
"Oh, well." She heaves a dramatic sigh. "I suppose I must go through with the wedding after all."
"You don't have to, you know." Killian's voice loses its teasing tone, utterly serious. "There's still time, if you want to recon-"
"Don't be ridiculous," Emma says, rolling up on her toes to press a kiss to his cheek. "We've been over this. I don't care how much King Midas rants and rails about alliances and power matches. I love you, Killian." She feels him relax at her words, the tension in his shoulders easing. "Although, with the way you keep questioning me about it, perhaps it's you who doesn't want to marry me."
"Now who's being ridiculous?" he fires back. "The only thing that will keep me from marrying you is if you decide against it. Otherwise, I would've sailed away and become a pirate the day that I asked your parents for their blessing."
"You're so dramatic. My parents adore you." She rests her head against his shoulder.
Killian shudders, gaze still resolutely focused on the sea. "A lesser man than I might find that statement somewhat suspect, owing to the fact that your lady mother insisted on shooting an apple off the top of my head as part of a ceremony that I'm fairly certain she invented, and your father has not stopped glaring at me since the first time I asked you to dance." Closing his eyes, he presses a kiss to the crown of her head, giving her hand a slight squeeze. "Knowing you as I do, however, I know that your family chooses to express affection in rather, er, bloodthirsty ways."
"Oh, bloodthirsty," she says, giving a little shiver of delight. "I like that one. Are you sure that you don't want reconsider piracy? I think I'd quite enjoy it."
"You'd make a hell of a pirate, love," he agrees.
They stand in silence for a long moment, watching the moonlight dance across the waves. The tavern door swings open around the corner, voices drifting out into the night, and Emma rolls her eyes as she hears a verse of a song about her (which, to be fair, isn't terrible- and is far kinder to her than the songs about her mother- but it's still embarrassing to hear).
"I'm sorry if I worried you," she says finally. "I know you hate it when I come down here without an escort. I just miss-"
"Your freedom?" he interrupts. "Aye, I know, love. I wish it didn't have to be this way. It's my fault."
"It's Regina's fault, Killian. Or King Midas' fault, or even mine. I could have been a bit more diplomatic when I rejected his son, after all." Emma sighs, tucking her free hand under Killian's elbow.
"That bastard had it coming," Killian growls. "Trying to put his filthy hands on you-"
"But he didn't," Emma says quietly. "And I'm fine."
The tavern door swings open again, and she hears Elsa calling for her.
"I suppose I'd better go," she sighs.
"Liam will take you back to the castle," he says, pressing another kiss against her hair. "I know you hate it, but-"
"Killian, it's fine. Any other day, I'd probably be a bit irritated, but- you're right. The night before my wedding? I'll be surprised if it turns out that Regina doesn't have spies everywhere, just waiting for the perfect moment." She releases her grip on his hand, sliding her arms around him. "Now, kiss me goodbye, and I'll be a good little bride and go to bed."
"It's bad luck," Killian says weakly, though he's already turning to take her in his arms.
"To see me, sure," Emma agrees. "So close your eyes."
He shuts his eyes immediately, bending his head to bring his lips to hers. Emma slides her arms around his neck, swaying against his chest, and smiles as she feels his hand tangle in her hair. Killian pulls her closer, his other hand tight around her waist, and-
"Enough of that," Liam calls, his words punctured by a piercing wolf whistle. Emma and Killian break apart, looking over to see Liam and Elsa grinning by the corner of the tavern. "As best man, I must intervene. There are some things a man shouldn't have to watch his little brother do, and canoodling by the harbor is one of them."
"Canoodling?" Emma says, just as Killian snaps "Younger brother!"
"Pre-marital canoodling, at that," Liam says gravely. "As the pair of you can't seem to follow the very basic rule of not seeing one another before the ceremony-"
"My eyes were closed!" Killian insists, but Liam ignores him.
"-I'm going to have to separate you by force." Stepping forward, he bows to Emma with more ridiculous flourishes than she's ever seen, offering his hand to her. "Your Highness, if you please?"
"See you tomorrow." Emma releases her hold on Killian reluctantly. "I'll be the one wearing white."
"I'll be the one at the altar." Killian shuts his eyes, shooting a smile in her direction, before he turns back to the harbor.
"And I'll be the better-looking one at the altar," Liam says brightly, taking Emma's hand. He leads her over to Elsa, who is also treated to an over-the-top bow. "Your Majesty, would you care to join us?"
"Certainly." Elsa takes his free hand, blushing as his fingers close over hers. He leads them to a nearby carriage, helping them in one by one before climbing in to join them. With a call to the driver, they slowly roll towards the castle, Emma staring back at Killian until he fades from sight.
"Oh, Emma," Snow breathes, her hand coming to her mouth as tears well in her eyes. "Just look at you."
"Is it- do I look okay?" Emma asks, reaching up to fidget with the edge of her veil.
"You're absolutely gorgeous." Elsa's smile looks rather watery as she hands Emma her bouquet. "Wait until Killian sees you, he's going to faint dead away."
"I hope not. Liam would never let him live it down," Emma says, bringing the flowers to her nose and inhaling deeply.
A soft knock echoes against the door. "Emma?"
"It's your father," Snow says quickly, wiping her eyes as she goes to let him in. "David, there you are."
He steps into the room cautiously, closing the door quietly behind him. His face lights up as his gaze lands on Emma, and she reaches out to him with her free hand.
"Sweetheart, you look breathtaking," he says, squeezing her hand as he takes in her ensemble. "Far too beautiful for that sailor you're marrying."
"Father," she says, smiling and swatting him with her bouquet. "Did you see him? How is he?"
"Of course I saw him. As your father, it's my natural right to give your intended one last threatening talk before I walk you down the aisle." Emma groans and he grins, shooting her a wink. "He's fine, Emma. So nervous that I'm surprised he's still standing, but he's fine."
"Good." Emma reaches up to touch her veil once again, running her fingers over her tiara. Another knock interrupts them, and Snow once again goes to the door.
"Sorry to interrupt," says Red, peering into the room with a smile, "but it's nearly time, if you'd like to take your seat."
"Of course. Thank you, Red." Snow turns to Emma, wrapping her arms around her daughter. "My darling, you look so beautiful." She pulls away, gently cradling Emma's face in her hands. "I wish you every happiness in the world."
"Thank you, Mother," Emma says, pressing a kiss to her cheek. With a smile, Snow turns, kissing David quickly before disappearing into the corridor.
"I should go, too," Elsa says. "Anna's saving my seat, but you know how pushy people can be." She hugs Emma, stepping back and adjusting her veil slightly. "Perfect." She sweeps out of the room, gently closing the door behind her.
"Almost our turn." David rocks back on his heels, glancing over at Emma. "It's not too late, you know. You can call the whole thing off. You don't have to marry anybody."
"I'm not calling anything off," she says, twisting her engagement ring around her finger. "I love him, Father."
"I know you do." He heaves a sigh. "And I'm glad, but I wish- you're my little girl."
"And I still will be, after I'm married." She smiles, stepping over to kiss him on the cheek. "Nothing's going to change that."
"Since you're set on getting married, I supposed I'll just be happy that you've chosen someone who loves you the way that Killian does," he says. "If there has to be another man in your life- well. He's a good man, Emma."
"He is," she says softly.
Red knocks on the door again, peering inside. "It's time, you two."
Emma takes a deep breath, tightening her grip on her bouquet as she follows her godmother down the corridor to the ballroom. Even with the enormous doors shut tight, she can hear voices in the room beyond, music occasionally drifting over the chatter. She arranges her gown with one hand, Red adjusting her train behind her. Her father steps up to her side, offering his arm.
"Ready?" he asks, squeezing her hand as she settles it on his elbow. Red darts through a side door, no doubt rushing to her seat, and Emma nods.
"Yes," she says, feeling a smile unfurling across her face even as her stomach flips nervously. Her father nods to one of the guards, who passes the message into the room, and a loud fanfare suddenly plays.
"This is it," her father murmurs, and the doors swing open.
Thousands of faces look back at them, bright with expectation. A gasp rises from the room at large as she steps forward, nearly drowning out the music as she enters the room. Emma can see the back of Killian's head at the other end of the aisle, sees him fidget slightly as the sounds of their guests fades into a respectful silence. Swallowing hard, she keeps smiling, eyes fixed on Killian. Liam glances back over his shoulder at her, shooting her a wink; she winks back, and he leans over to whisper something in Killian's ear.
It's easily the longest walk of her life, and Emma thinks that she would happily sprint the length of the aisle if not for the light pressure of her father's arm. Finally, finally they arrive at the altar, and Killian meets her gaze. His eyes widen as he takes her in, mouth falling open; if she could have written a script for him to follow when he first saw her, she couldn't have done any better.
"Emma, you look-" he begins, blinking rapidly.
"I know," she smirks, and he laughs. Her father gently places her hand in Killian's, and together they step forward to stand in front of Sir Lancelot.
It's later- thought not much later- and they're standing near the public balcony, peeking through the curtains at the crowd assembled outside of the castle. The people of the kingdom (and, by the looks of it, several other kingdoms) sing and cheer, drinks in hand, as they wait for the pair to make their first appearance as husband and wife.
"Gods, there are a lot of them, aren't there?" Killian says, his arm tight around her waist.
"It's about what my parents thought we should expect," Emma says. She leans over to kiss him, smiling against his lips. "Apparently there were even more when they got married."
"More than this?" His eyes widen. "I feel like we ought to give them dinner and a show, there's so many people out there."
"Well, they are getting dinner. The castle chefs are serving to anyone who comes to the gates," Emma points out. "As for a show- well, that's what we're here for."
"Is that so?" He practically purrs the words, his lips barely a breath away from hers. "In that case, my lovely wife, perhaps we shouldn't keep them waiting."
"What are you thinking, my handsome husband?" Emma whispers back, sliding her arms around his neck. "Surely nothing scandalous."
"Mmm, you're right. Perhaps I'll save those thoughts for later." He kisses her deeply, one hand coming up to cradle her face, pulling a low moan from the back of her throat.
"We have to stop meeting like this," Liam calls, voice echoing slightly in the overlarge chamber. Killian sighs, ending the kiss but pressing his forehead to meet Emma's, arms still wrapped tightly around each other.
"You need to learn how to knock, brother," he says, glaring over at him.
Liam chuckles. "Little brother-"
"Younger brother!"
"-the Queen herself sent me to tell you that if you don't go out on the balcony now, she's going to start the dancing without you." Emma looks over just in time to see Liam waggle his eyebrows at her. "And she's threatened me with the prospect of keeping me from the beautiful Queen Elsa, so I'm here to absolutely insist that you give the people what they want."
"When you put it that way, you make me want to stay right here," Killian says, kissing Emma again.
"By all the gods," Liam groans. "Please, can you just go kiss her out there so the rest of us can get on with our evening?"
"Hmmm." Killian gently runs a finger along Emma's jaw, tilting his head as he considers it. "What do you say, my beautiful, dazzling, wonderful wife?"
"You're quite lucky, Captain Jones," Emma says, narrowing her eyes playfully at Liam. "You happened to get me on a day when I'm feeling quite generous and kind."
"Lucky indeed," Killian says. "She's quite bloodthirsty, my wife."
"Very," Emma agrees. "But since you've come to me on my wedding day- I suppose I can grant your request."
"I'll notify the Queen," Liam says, and rushes out of the room.
"Ready?" Emma asks, carefully adjusting her veil before taking Killian's hand.
"Love, I'd go to the end of the world for you," he says. "Or time."
She smiles up at him, giving his hand a squeeze. "Let's go, then."
The doors to the balcony swing open, letting in a rush of summer air and an explosion of cheers, and they step into the sunlight.
Together.