Author: This is just a fluffy one shot written for the Captain Swan Secret Santa gift exchange on Tumblr. There's a little cameo appearance here by a couple from another fandom, but it's mostly Lieutenant Duckling with a side order of Jones Brothers feels. Happy Holidays, everyone!
The carriage jolted again, lifting him briefly from the velvet-covered seat and landing back down with an uncomfortable thump.
"Bloody hell," Liam swore. His brother sat across from him, their knees almost touching in the small confined space, "We should have ridden. Being saddle sore would be a lot gentler on the arse than this blasted contraption."
Killian rather agreed with his brother's sentiment but he lifted a brow and crossed his arms, "And refused His Majesty's kindness in providing a royal escort to the castle? Bad form brother, to say no to a king. Or a queen."
Liam grumbled, making a face as they continued to bump along, "A carriage is all well and good for a lady or an invalid, but a man should ride."
"Perhaps the king thought that we'd have forgotten how to handle a horse after so many years at sea. Besides, we're almost there. Buck up."
He turned his head and looked out the window, watching the trees roll by as they continued to hit what must have been every rut and dip in the road that led to the castle. Like his brother, he would have much preferred to travel in the saddle than in a carriage, but he was not about to complain about their means of conveyance. He would have travelled to the castle in a rowboat if that was the only transport available.
Anything for a chance to see her again.
"Killian!"
His brother's tone was sharp and he gave a guilty start, hoping that Liam was unaware of the direction his thoughts had wandered.
"This is a great honour, brother. To be invited to a royal ball by the King himself, we must both be on our best behaviour at all times."
"I am not a child, Liam. I do not need to be told to mind my manners. I have been in the presence of royalty before, if you recall."
"That's exactly what concerns me," Liam muttered, peering out of the window.
Their invitation to the royal ball had been accompanied by a missive in the king's own hand, praising them both for their service to the Crown. Killian had been too impatient to wait, reading over Liam's shoulder as his brother sat at his desk in the captain's quarters of the Jewel of the Realm. The invitation itself was practically a work of art in it's own right, cream-coloured paper with gilt edges and calligraphed in a dark silver ink that shimmered when it caught the light. He skimmed over the words, "Captain Liam Jones and Lieutenant Killian Jones...Royal Winter Ball...Request the Honour of Your Presence...Her Majesty Queen Snow White...His Majesty King David...His Royal Highness Prince Neal...Her Royal Highness Princess Emma."
Princess Emma.
...
The summer prior, the Jewel had been part of the fleet that accompanied Princess Emma on a royal visit to the kingdom of Arendelle. She had recently come of age, and had been sent by her parents on her first diplomatic mission to negotiate a trade agreement with the Ice Queen who ruled the faraway land.
Of course everyone knew the other purpose of the trip, to introduce the princess to Prince Kai, the unmarried heir to his aunt's throne, and expected she would return to the Enchanted Forest with a betrothal ring on her slender finger.
Killian had not expected to get even a glimpse of Princess Emma during the voyage, but the royal flagship had been struck by an outbreak of the pox after only three days at sea. Her Royal Highness had been immediately transferred to the closest ship, the Jewel, to escape the spreading illness.
He had been standing next to his brother on deck when she came over on the wide plank that had been lain between the two ships to connect them, and her green eyes had alighted on him while she grasped Liam's outstretched hand for assistance in climbing down the makeshift steps.
A sharp stab of jealousy pierced through him, he had never envied his brother more than in that moment.
Liam stood with ramrod posture, chest puffed out in pride as he greeted her, "Welcome aboard, Your Highness. I am Captain Liam Jones, at your service. I and my crew are all greatly honoured by your presence on our humble vessel."
She nodded, looking around at the rows of men all standing at attention, "Thank you, Captain Jones."
"May I present my officers? This is Lieutenant Killian Jones."
Killian gave a formal bow, "It is a great honour, Your Highness."
She looked to Liam and then back in his direction, "Jones?"
"The lieutenant is my little brother," Liam supplied.
"Younger brother," he corrected automatically, and then he felt himself flush hotly with embarrassment at having said it in front of her.
But the princess laughed, "Indeed, as my own dear younger brother would no doubt remind me, especially since he has grown taller than I in the past year."
Her smile was infectious, and he felt the grin break over his own face as she moved on to the purser and greeted him while Liam scowled behind her back, glaring at him.
That night he lay awake for hours on end in his narrow bunk, kept up by his brother's loud snoring. The princess had been given the captain's cabin, as it was the largest on the ship, and Liam was billeting with him. They had not shared a room in years, and his brother had apparently developed a fondness for sawing logs in his sleep during that time.
Killian clapped the pillow over his ears in a vain attempt to block out the noise and stared up at the ceiling. He wondered if Princess Emma was comfortable in her makeshift quarters, as well-equipped as the Jewel was by naval standards, it hadn't been intended to house royalty.
He had heard she was beautiful, but the tales had not done her justice. Liam's snores faded away as he recalled the sunlight shining down on her golden hair, and eyes the colour of a tropical sea, as green as the crystal clear waters in a hidden lagoon. When he finally fell asleep, he dreamed of those eyes looking up at him, a delicate pink flush spreading across her cheeks as he lifted her small white hand to his lips and brushed a kiss across it.
When they reached Arendelle a fortnight later, he was completely lost, hopelessly besotted with her, and his dreams were not that of a gentleman. Liam watched him with narrowed eyes, but his brother could find no fault with his deportment. He behaved impeccably, bowing to her whenever he was in her presence, not letting his gaze wander over her decolletage or the other soft curves of her body under the silk and velvet gowns. He kept his eyes firmly on her face, his hands behind his back, and his more immodest thoughts to himself.
On the final night of the journey, he'd been up on deck watching the stars and making note of their positions in his leather-bound journal when he heard the deck boards creak and groan behind him and he turned at the sound.
It was Princess Emma, bundled up in a cloak but with her hair loose, falling over her shoulder like a waterfall and rippling softly in the wind.
"Your Highness!"
He dropped the journal and started to bend down to retrieve it, but stopped and bowed instead, head lowered and hands behind his back.
"My apologies, Lieutenant. I did not mean to startle you."
She picked up the journal from the deck and held it out to him. He took it with a nod of his head, trying to ignore the tiny spark that leapt through him when her fingers brushed his.
"Do you require any assistance, Your Highness?" he asked, wondering what she was doing up so late.
"Well," she said, chewing on her lower lip and looking up at him with wide eyes, "Do you know anything about negotiating trade agreements?"
He realized that she was nervous about the visit to Arendelle, and he recalled his own first mission as a newly commissioned officer and how he hadn't sleep a wink the night before the sailing.
The princess pulled the edges of her cloak a little tighter around her and spoke in a rush, "I don't want to disappoint my parents or my subjects. This is my first trip to a foreign court, and I just...want to make everyone proud of me."
In that moment she wasn't the poised and elegant princess everyone bowed and scraped to (himself included). She was shuffling her feet, looking down at the deck with her shoulders slumped under the weight of an entire kingdom's expectations.
"I'm sorry, I'm interrupting you from your duty, aren't I?"
He hurried to reassure her, "I'm not actually on duty at the moment. I was merely charting the stars for my own reference."
She looked up at the sky and back down at the journal in his hands, "Charting the stars?"
The book fell open to the page he had been working on, the constellation Cygnus sketched out on the paper. She came closer, close enough that he could have slid his arm around her waist if he'd been so inclined (and he was, but he was a gentleman, so he wouldn't).
"is that a swan?" she asked. Her head tipped back and she scanned the stars above, "I don't see it. Where?"
He turned and pointed to where the swan flew across the heavens, tracing the shape of the neck and the outstretched wings with his finger, "There."
Princess Emma mimicked him, her brows drawn together as she searched for the swan. He could tell when she found it, her eyes widened and a smile curved her lips.
"What else?" she asked, her eyes meeting his and shining so bright in the moonlight that it made his heart ache, "Can you show me more?"
He found Ursus, the great bear, and the bright stars that made up Orion's Belt, he showed her the sketches in his journal and told her the legends behind the shapes, the ones that sailors had passed down for millennia as they sailed the endless seas.
Somehow she wound up sitting next to him on a crate, her head against his shoulder as he continued to trace patterns in the stars for her. Somehow, his arm did find it's way around her slim waist and rested lightly on her velvet cloak (gentleman be damned).
A few stray snowflakes from the lands of the Ice Queen blew across the deck landing on her golden hair.
"I never knew there was so much to see in the night sky," she whispered, "Thank you, Lieutenant."
Her head tilted to meet his eyes and he looked down at her, their faces so close that he could bridge the gap in a heartbeat and press his lips to hers, taste the starlight and the snowflakes on her skin. His eyes drifted down to her mouth and saw her lips part with the tiniest gasp.
She pulled back and moved to stand and he leapt instantly to his feet as well, "You're very welcome, Your Highness."
He escorted her back to the captain's cabin, bowing again when they reached the smooth wood door.
"You will make your parents very proud," he said.
She smiled, "I hope so."
Killian went back up on deck, watching the stars until the sky went pink and dawn broke over the ship. In the distance he could see the land of Arendelle, and he swallowed hard against a sudden lump in his throat.
The Jewel was met at the harbour by a royal welcome, people lined the docks to catch a glimpse of the Princess, cheering and waving flags. When she disembarked Prince Kai was there to meet her, a tall, blond, broad-shouldered nobleman who dropped to one knee and kissed her hand.
Killian stood on deck with the other officers and watched as she made her way to the waiting carriage, waving at the crowd and accepting flowers from outstretched hands. The prince had his hand on the small of her back, guiding her through the throng. He opened the door to the carriage, and she turned and gave a final wave.
Her eyes met his, and he smiled, giving a slight nod of his head. She smiled back, and then she ducked her head and climbed into the coach, the prince following behind.
His smile faded and he let out a sigh. She was royalty, and he was nought but a lowly sailor of humble birth.
The visit was a resounding success , the trade agreements signed with terms that benefitted both kingdoms equally, and Princess Emma returned to the Enchanted Forest on the royal flagship, the pox had turned out to be a mere harmless rash from a bad batch of soap.
But when she left Arendelle there was no diamond betrothal ring on her finger, and in his narrow bunk he dreamed of a night when she had laid her head on his shoulder and he showed her the stars.
...
They made it to the palace in one piece, although both he and his brother winced and tried to discretely rub their sore backsides when they finally alighted from the carriage in the wide courtyard. They were shown to chambers in the east wing, where they would dress and ready themselves for the ball. Their daily uniforms would not suffice for such a grand occasion, and the trunk that had accompanied them on the carriage ride was brought up to their rooms and carefully unpacked.
The dirt and grime of the journey was washed away and he slipped the linen shirt over his head. White breeches, white kidskin waistcoat, navy jacket with gilt buttons and trimmed in gold braid. The black boots had been polished to a mirror shine and he tugged on the spotless white gloves and flexed his fingers.
Liam's face appeared behind him in the looking glass, "If you preen anymore at your reflection you shall turn into a peacock, little brother."
"Younger brother," he corrected with a roll of his eyes, turning around. Liam reached for his cravat and fussed with the material, fixing it in place, and laid his hands on Killian's shoulders.
"This is a great honour," Liam began.
"Yes, you've said that already. Several times, in fact."
Liam's lips thinned slightly like he wanted to reprimand him, but then his face lightened with a smile, "I know that you will behave most admirably, my dear younger brother. But if you will suffer one piece of advice from your older brother?"
Killian smiled back at him, "Aye, of course."
"Ask the princess to dance."
He felt himself flush all the way to the roots of his hair as Liam pulled back and winked.
His voice was much higher than normal, he sounded like a nervous young lad "Ask Princess Emma to dance?"
Liam looked far too pleased with himself, "It is a ball, Killian. There will be dancing."
"The princess is hardly going to want to dance with me, brother."
He was sure there'd be a line of lords and dukes and knights all jostling for the opportunity to dance with Princess Emma. What chance did a mere Lieutenant of the Royal Navy have?
Even though he didn't say the words out loud Liam still knew what he was thinking and his tone was firm, "Don't sell yourself short. Ask her. That's an order, Lieutenant."
"We're not on the bloody ship, Liam."
"But I am still your captain, Killian."
His brother gave a smug smile, "Now, shall we go?"
The palace's Great Hall must have been ten leagues in length, and his jaw nearly dropped when they walked through the massive oak doors and into the ball. He stared at the ice sculptures that stood twice the height of a man, a fearsome dragon with shimmering scales and icicle fangs, a life-sized horse rearing up on it's back legs, front hooves in the air, even a ship, sails raised and a wave of ice crashing against the bow.
He paused at a swan on a frozen pond, each feather on the folded wings etched perfectly and two large jewels encased in the ice, serving as the bird's eyes.
Everywhere he looked he saw candles, white tapers in silver candelabras that perfumed the air. The large stone columns that supported the ceiling were draped in garlands of evergreen branches, and the walls were hung with cloth-of-silver and fantastic tapestries. Liam's hand was firm on his elbow, guiding him past the liveried servants who offered up goblets of drink and tiny delicacies on gold platters, weaving through the lords and ladies all attired in their most ornate finery for the occasion, grand ball gowns and sparkling gems, velvet frock coats and powdered hair.
They finally stop in front of a raised dais where the royal family stood, greeting their guests. He bowed to the beautiful, dark haired queen and the handsome blond king, standing arm in arm next to each other.
"My brother and I were greatly honoured by your invitation, Your Majesties," Liam said.
"You are most welcome at our court. The kingdom thanks you for your exemplary service."
Queen Snow White smiled as they exchanged pleasantries, and Killian had to force himself to pay attention, keeping his gaze on the royal couple. Young Prince Neal welcomed them as well, clearly his mother's son with his sweep of dark hair and round cheeks. His sister stood next to him, and extended a hand when Killian finally stood in front of her.
"It is good to see you again Captain Jones, and you as well, Lieutenant."
She was even more beautiful than he remembered and the breath caught in his throat as he took the proffered hand and bowed low over it. None of the other ladies at the ball could hold a candle to her, in a blue gown that shimmered like ice under the winter sun and left her shoulders nearly bare. Her hair was piled on top of her head with a few soft curls resting against her neck, and adorned with diamond stars that did nothing but remind him of that night on the deck of the Jewel.
Killian brought her hand to his lips and brushed a kiss over her knuckles, "Thank you, Your Highness."
He wanted to say more, but they were pressed aside by more guests eager to see and be seen, and he was forced to release her hand and step aside to make way. He followed his brother back into the crowd, craning his neck for one final glimpse before they were swallowed up in the teeming mass. Princess Emma looked up over the heads of the women who were curtseying in front of her and their eyes met. A smile curved her lips and he smiled back.
Liam's hand landed on his shoulder, "Come brother, let us make some merry."
They mingled with the guests, a dizzying array of names and faces. He was sure that he would forget most of not all of them by morning, but a few stood out. Lord Castle, a rather ruggedly handsome man and a born storyteller, who entertained with tales spun out of thin air under the amused smile of his lovely wife, Lady Katherine. He listened with half an ear while he watched his brother make acquaintance with a rather buxom countess who smiled and giggled as Liam's ears turned redder and redder.
"The captain seems to be enjoying himself," Lord Castle drawled.
"Aye," he replied, giving a small wave when Liam glanced up. His ears were crimson.
Lady Katherine snapped her fan shut and tapped her husband in the chest with it, "As if you didn't enjoy yourself at royal balls before we were married."
"Ah, but dearest, I would have enjoyed them much more with you on my arm."
As the couple began to bicker, the words sharp but the affection plain, Killian's eyes drifted across the Great Hall as he searched for Princess Emma. He found her surrounded by a group of young lords all clearly vying for her attention, and he felt his heart sink. What chance did he have?
The musicians began to play, and the King led the queen out onto the dance floor. The Royal couple began to waltz, smiling at each other as if there was no one else in the room. They were quickly joined by several others, all twirling around on the floor. Lord Castle bowed to Lady Katherine and asked her to dance, and he saw Liam being towed to the floor by the buxom countess.
But Princess Emma wasn't among the ladies who dipped and spun in the arms of their partners, he caught no glimpse of her icy blue gown and blonde curls amid the dancers, and he frowned.
Killian edged his way around the floor and looked for her. Her parents were still dancing, still locked in each other's arms, even her brother was taking a turn with a young lass, both red-faced and somewhat awkward with the steps. He paused when he saw her, back on the dais and sitting on a throne with her skirts spilling over the arms, fingers toying with the white feathers on her fan.
Maybe it was his brother's voice in his head. Maybe he had been made bold by the cups of wine he'd drunk. Maybe it was the sight of the diamond stars in her hair and the memory of a night under the real ones, but almost without realizing it he was striding onto the dais, clicking his heels together neatly and extending his hand.
"Would you do me the honour of a dance, Your Highness?"
Green eyes looked up at him from under the fluttering fan. His heart was thundering in his chest and the blood was pounding in his ears, and then her small hand was clasping his, she rose to her feet and set aside the fan.
"I thought you'd never ask, Lieutenant."
The words careened around his skull and echoed over and over again, "I thought you'd never ask."
The dance floor was thick with couples, but they all parted and bowed as he led her to the middle of the polished tiles and slid his arm around her slim waist. Her hand settled on his shoulder with her lashes lowered demurely, but then she looked up at him and grinned, her lower lip caught between her teeth.
They moved as if they'd been dancing together their whole lives, falling easily in step and sweeping across the floor to the measure of the music. Killian caught his brother's smile and wink over the countess's shoulder, he saw the proud faces of the king and queen, the fondness in their eyes as they watched their daughter, but then everything faded away as he looked down into her face and felt her fingers lace tightly with his and the brush of her other hand against his neck.
The music changed, the sedate waltz turned into an energetic volta, and the next thing he knew he had both hands on her waist, lifting her up and twirling her around. Princess Emma was weightless in his arms, her face flushed with the exertion of the dance (and he hoped, from being so close to him).
He lost track of how many dances they shared, he expertly steered her away from any man who approached with the obvious intentions of cutting in, and she made no move to let go and step back whenever the music briefly paused at the end of each piece before the next dance began.
When the music finally stopped he found himself with her hand still encased firmly in his as they slipped outside the Great Hall and into the gardens behind the castle, laughing and whispering like naughty children. The stone paths were lit by lanterns but the grounds were deserted, no one else had braved the cold winter's night.
The princess shivered, her bare skin pricked with gooseflesh, and he immediately shrugged off his jacket and laid it over her shoulders. She tugged it around her, and he was reminded again of another night under the stars.
"Won't you be cold?" she asked, turning to look up at him.
It had started to snow, little flakes dancing on the air, dusting her eyelashes with white lace and undoubtedly powdering his hair.
"No, Your Highness. The company is more than enough to keep me warm."
Somehow they wound up sitting on a wrought-iron bench, her head against his shoulder and looking up at the stars.
"Cygnus. The swan," she whispered, pointing up into the sky. Her hand moved and traced another constellation, "Pyxis, the mariner's compass."
He felt his eyes widen All sailors knew that group of stars, but it hadn't been visible the night they had sat on deck, it had been summer then and Pyxis was best viewed in the winter months, "How did you know that one?"
Her head dipped slightly, "I found a book of star charts in the palace library, and at night I go out on my balcony and watch them."
Killian turned and put his fingers under her chin, lifting her head. Princess Emma frowned slightly and her hand came out from under his coat, thumbing over his cheeks.
"You're all red. You are cold."
He was, but he didn't care. A snowflake landed on her nose and he brushed it away. Their faces were so close that he could bridge the gap in a heartbeat and in his whole life he had wanted nothing more. But he was a gentleman and she was a princess.
The diamond stars winked in her hair and she whispered, "Let me warm you up."
But then again, he was cold and it would be most bad form to refuse her kind offer. He leaned down and she tilted up, and their lips finally met under a night sky full of starlight and snowflakes.