Killian never would have thought that he'd get the chance to go to a ball with Emma Swan. After all, they didn't exactly happen in Storybrooke. He wasn't sure she'd want to go with him even if they did. But here they were, walking into King Midas' castle and ball. True, their main reason for being here was to repair the damage they'd done to the future, but Killian couldn't properly focus on that with Emma's arm around his.
As he dropped their forged invitation onto the golden platter at the door, she complained quietly, "Just when I thought the clothes here couldn't get any worse." Honestly, Killian couldn't see how they could get any better, especially on her. Then it was out of his mouth before he could think it through.
"You might not be able to move, Swan, but you cut quite the figure in that dress." As it turned out, he needn't have worried, because as he said it, she gave a pleased smile and looked to the ground almost demurely. He couldn't help grinning at her reaction. It was just so utterly feminine from a commonly rough-and-tough girl.
"Greetings!" a friendly voice called, and Killian looked away from Emma to see a well-groomed, richly dressed man with blond hair and beard coming towards them. "I am King Midas, father of the bride. Who do I have the honour to welcome into my home?"
Oh bloody hell, they hadn't planned for this!
"I am…" he began, then trailed off. "I'm- Prince-"
"Charles." Emma interjected, and Killian let out a mental breath of relief. "Prince Charles." Midas shifted his gaze and smiled warmly, and she added, "And I'm Princess…" The pause was downright terrifying, and Killian couldn't help a nervous glance at her, but she filled it a second later with, "Leia." Then she surprised him further by dropping into a perfect curtsey, which he accented with his own bow.
"An honour to have you both." Midas replied with a slight incline of his head, the only courtesy he owed guests of a lower rank. He gestured to the footman behind him and ordered, "Announce Prince Charles and Princess Leia."
Formalities out of the way, the king left them. They moved through the crowd and towards the gentle sound of violins Killian had been hearing since they entered.
"Mary Margaret and David are always going on about this ball and that ball," Emma said skeptically. He did have to admit that when all you could see were the people milling about and chatting, it didn't seem like much, "What's the big deal about these things?"
That happened to be the exact moment they reached the end of the crowd of socialites and the beginning of the dance floor. The orchestra was louder here, and there were couples dotting a small empty space. They were all dressed in beautiful clothing, and moving elegantly in perfect time to the music. This had always been Killian's favourite part of balls. Judging from the slack look and open mouth on Emma's face, she thought the same of it that he did.
He leaned in with a grin and whispered in her ear, "You were saying?"
"What am I supposed to do?" she asked, sounding slightly dismayed. In answer, he took her hand in his, raised it to chest level, and said, "Blend in." He led her onto the dance floor.
"Wait," she started slowly and, if he was correct, a bit nervously, "are you saying you know how to do whatever this…is?"
"It's called a waltz." He stopped and, when she didn't show any indication of even knowing how to stand, reached between them, and perched her right hand on his fake one. He felt her other hand rest on his shoulder, so she knew at least slightly what was going on. He took her waist and, unable to help himself, tugged her a little closer as he continued, "There's only one rule." He turned away from making sure his fake hand was on right and gazed at her face. There he found something he hadn't expected. The look on her face was affectedly intense, and he couldn't help a smile as he finished, "Pick a partner who knows what he's doing."
Throughout the dance, she wouldn't stop looking at him in that way, or glancing down at his lips. She may have thought he wasn't noticing, may have known he was and didn't care. Either way, it kept a large, satisfied smile on his face.
Killian started to lose track of where they were in the song. He knew their objective, but couldn't make himself focus on it. Nor could he stop beaming. Emma seemed to be enjoying herself as much as he. Not only that, but she was actually a rather good dancer; she was born for it. Then she glanced over and saw his beam.
"Watch the mocking." she scolded jokingly. "I'm actually getting the hang of this." Of course she'd interpreted it like that. Assuming a negative pall was just her way.
"I'm not mocking you, Swan." he assured her as she twirled. He dropped to one knee, as the choreography required. "I was just thinking about what you said in Storybrooke. About not being a princess."
"Really. You get my first dance at my first royal ball, and all you can say is 'I told you so'?" She didn't sound legitimately upset, thank goodness.
"I believe what I'm trying to say, Your Highness," He timed the title so it would be during a bow in the dance, "is that you appear to be a natural." There was that look again, and the glance at his mouth. He wanted to kiss her as much as she apparently did him, but this wasn't the place. Oh, no, that was not something that was done in public in this realm, unless you wanted to be labelled a whore or something worse.
"There's Charming." Emma breathed, breaking his train of thought. He peeked as subtly as he could over his shoulder at the prince, while Emma outright stared. Killian couldn't really blame her; it wasn't every day one got to see one's father the way he was before he became such. However, it was going to be tricky to explain that to anyone else if they asked about it.
A turn in the waltz faced Killian to the prince, who was coming right towards them. They couldn't let themselves be seen by anyone significant, Rumpelstiltskin had made that perfectly clear. Casually, he steered himself and Emma to an angle where Charming wouldn't be able to see their faces as he passed. The doors opened behind them, but there were always guests that came in late to balls, so Killian didn't pay it any mind. It was the regimented clomping of soldier boots that demanded his attention, and that of everyone else in the room. When he saw them, it was even worse than he'd thought. Black Knights. And with them, none other than the Evil Queen Regina herself.
"Regina's here." Emma stated, though Killian doubted there was a single person in the room who didn't know that. Lowering her voice, she whispered in a panicked way, "Dammit. That definitely was not in the plan!"
"Breathe, Swan. She's a guest." he said soothingly. "The king's head would vanish to another realm if he didn't invite her."
"Yeah, good point." she conceded quietly, scanning the room with the look of a cornered animal.
"Mmhm." he agreed with his own statement, keeping his voice low and hoping it would draw her back to dancing and him. Then her head snapped around, wide-eyed, and she breathed, "Where's Charming?!"
Looking around himself, Killian realized that he didn't know, and that he'd lost the mood. Emma's mission-focus had snapped into place, and there was no jarring her concentration away from their objective now.
To quote her, dammit.