The royal family of Misthaven were seated for breakfast when Crown Princess Emma's father announced that an impromptu ball would take place that evening. Her ten year old brother instantly begged to be allowed to attend ("No, James, no balls til you are at least twelve," their mother had reminded him, only to be met by a disappointed groan). Emma herself had silently eaten her apple and sighed at the prospect of further public exposure.

Yet another ball; another stream of haughty suitors. Another chance to show them all just why Princess Emma of Misthaven held the reputation as the most determined old maid this side of the Enchanted Forest. Because a princess ought to want to marry? And a princess who'd almost reached the age of thirty without even coming close to that, well, wasn't that strange?

Not to Emma, who had long since decided that she and marriage were incompatible.

Her mother had claimed acceptance of her daughter's feelings on the subject, but that hadn't made her any less keen to introduce her to any and every eligible man who passed through the kingdom. It had become something of a game between the courtly ladies these past few years: just how many men would the princess reject this week?

Not that Emma cared. It wasn't as if she was actively seeking this attention. She wished that the world could just accept that she was happy as she was.

Because she was - happy. Alone, that is.

The gleaming spires of Misthaven rose mightily above the early morning mist. The marble shone brightly even in the scant light the day had yet provided. It was all so familiar yet so foreign: home, but also strangely not.

Some years had passed since Killian Jones had set foot in the land of his birth. So many events had given cause to exile from his homeland; not least the years long battle to defend the kingdom against their enemy, namely Queen Regina of the Outer Realms. Never had Killian anticipated that it would be almost half a decade before fortune saw fit to grant him passage again to Misthaven. But the war - however bitterly fought - had finally been resolved and the orders to return home had been swift. A long furlough had been promised and not before time. Many of the crew felt a fearful anticipation after so long in exile. However now as he approached its pristine shores, Killian felt no trepidation, only pride and excitement.

"Smile, your highness."

Emma sighed, tossing back a quick mouthful of wine before she could snipe back at her lady in waiting. She knew Lady Ruby Lucas was merely trying to help keep up appearances, but that didn't ease the annoyance she felt whenever she was trapped in the castle ballroom with a roomful of gawkers.

"I hate the way they look at me," she whispered in response, wearily eying the lords and ladies who filled the room. She saw their reproachful glances and caught sight of their whispers.

"You're imagining it, my lady."

And Emma wished she was. Sincerely. But she knew the way they talked and gossiped. Almost thirty and unmarried. What was wrong with the Crown Princess? Was she ill? Was there some other sinister problem? Perhaps men were not her partner of choice-

She'd heard every piece of gossip a thousand times and they still made her scream in frustration. As a lady and an heir she had little recourse. To react would be seen as unladylike and especially unfitting in her situation. Yet to say nothing may be be taken as a confirmation of any bad rumor or tall tale. So the princess sat and seethed and brooded week after week, praying for the day when her marital status would be no longer be considered interesting fodder for gossip.

Tonight the castle's main ballroom (for there were three) had been festooned in the colours of the Misthaven flag - bolts of fine silk hung down from the rafters and the room's many chandeliers shone with the light of a thousands lanterns. Yes, it was beautiful but nothing she hadn't seen a hundred times so far. She sat at her table, indifferent and feigning a bored expression on her face, a tactic she had discovered lessened the likelihood of being approached by anyone other than her mother or Lady Lucas.

It had been sometime since she had taken interest in the subject or content of Misthaven's many balls. Her parents were still youthful in their appearance and outlook and saw a courtly ball as the appropriate celebration for most royal situations. Tonight, however, the room was unusually studded with men in uniform - the cream and navy of Misthaven's naval officers. From her place seated at the head table, Emma leaned to Ruby who sat by her side.

"What is this ball in honor of again, I forget?"

Ruby tutted audibly, perhaps an inappropriate response but Emma had known Ruby since childhood and this gave the pair a rather more flexible relationship than most in similar situations.

"The crew of the Jewel of the Realm. They were key in defeating Queen Regina's forces in the battle that sealed our victory."

"Oh," Emma sighed, nodding and recognizing a vague memory of her father talking of such matters after breakfast. Of course she knew of the final battle that had been brutally fought and the ensuing celebrations that had gripped the capital a month earlier. And she instantly felt some guilt that she had not paid attention when her father had explained the purpose of the ball, instead she had been too wrapped up in her own brooding.

You see, it wasn't that Emma had no interest in such matters. She did. Misthaven was her home. She was a proud daughter of a kingdom that had held fast against the darker realms and and protected its weaker neighbours in time of need. Her detachment from the day to day details of the kingdom had came as a result of much more personal needs.

It had been some time since she had decided she was as unsuitable an heir as there could be. She was too damaged; too soiled by hurt to be able to weather the storms that a ruler must be able to. And it was barely less time since her younger brother had been born and taken away the burden. She had known as she watched him grow into a stout toddler and then charming little boy that when the time came, she would best serve her kingdom by passing on the crown to him.

She wasn't a ruler. She wasn't a queen.

She wasn't anything.

Emma was roused from her thoughts by the sound of a trumpet fanfare. To her left, she saw her father rise from his seat beside her mother.

"My lords, ladies, I take honor in welcoming you to this most proud occasion: the celebration of our final victory against forces whom have plagued our realm for almost this past decade. Without these men who currently dine with us, there may have no longer been a kingdom of Misthaven for us to cherish."

Rapturous applause filled the stone walled room. Emma sat straighter in her chair and took a sip of wine. She had heard her father give variations of this speech many a time but his sincerity never slipped. Perhaps today though even she could acknowledge that this occasion was unique.

"As such, I'd like to welcome forth the brave officers of The Jewel of the Realm."

From the tables scattered across the room, the naval offices rose in their seats and congregated at the rear or the room, forming a double line of men as they began to advance down the aisle laid out between the tables. They were led by their captain - identifiable by the polished epaulettes at his shoulders and the tricorn hat under his arm. The princess vaguely recognized him from some other occasion and her memory rendered him pleasant and gentile enough. Beside him was a younger man, darker in hair and skin, tall and confident looking. There was a familiarity there that she could not place. She felt like she knew him somehow, although she was certain they had not met. Emma tilted her head as she searched for a recollection of this man, but could find none. Instead, as they approached the royal party, she gave herself leave to let her eyes linger on his admittedly fine form, as good a distraction as any from the proceedings.

Across the hall, the officers marched slowly and proudly as the orchestra played a patriotic tune.

"Nervous?" teased captain Liam Jones as he sensed his brother walking beside him.

"Hardly," whispered Killian, first officer and brother of said captain. "It has been many years since the thought of a meeting the King brought me fear."

"Ah, but you have yet to meet the Princess, she can strike fear into any a man's heart."

Killian had heard of the princess of course, as a citizen of the realm he could hardly be forgiven for a lack of knowledge of his royal rulers, even if his arose from idle tavern gossip. She was known to be stunningly beautiful, with hair like pure sunshine and a pair of eyes that seemed to hold the mysteries of the universe (or so they said).

"Well worry not, brother, I guard my heart as fiercely as I guard the Jewel."

"Captain," King David nodded as they reached the royal family at the head of the hall. Killian and the rest of the crew bowed solemnly. "The kingdom welcomes you and your crew."

"On behalf of the crew may I thank you for this honor." Liam bowed again before glancing to Killian who stood at his righ. "Your highness, may I present my brother, Lt. Killian Jones. Without his navigation and tactical skills we could never have succeeded in our endeavours."

The king smiled at the lieutenant, "Officer Jones, our nation is forever in your debt. I'd like to extend whatever courtesies the kingdom may offer while you are on shore leave. Brave men such as yourself are this realm's lifeblood."

Killian bowed, feeling himself blush - just a little - at the king's words. He never courted attention as an officer but merely wanted to do his duty to the best of his ability.

As he rose he became acutely aware of another set of eyes trained upon him. Glancing to the king's side, he locked gaze with the infamous Crown Princess. For a second, he forgot himself. The stories of her beauty had not been exaggerated and the bright light of the ballroom lit up her earthy green eyes as they widened in surprise. But behind the green he saw an unexpected pain that intrigued him greatly. Killian blinked quickly and offered the king a small smile in response, mumbling out a reply of thanks as his head span at the sight of those fine eyes and the beautiful face which held them.

Emma had been shocked when he had looked at her. She was merely examining the officer, curious if he was as uptight and straight-laced as she expected, or maybe he was one of the wild ones whom she heard liked to frequent the bawdier taverns when ashore. But then he'd looked up and all she could see or think about was his too-blue eyes and the strange tug in her gut that accompanied the unexpected sensation of the first inklings of attraction.

So of course she immediately scowled and looked away. Pursing her lips, she shoved her hands into her lap, resting them on the soft pink silk of her dress and reminding herself once more why she steered clear of the male kind. They brought nothing but heartache, pain and sorrow. As a result, she'd became quite adept at suffocating any small attraction she felt over the past few years, in fact she prided herself on the skill.

The remaining officers trailed past her father, nodding and bowing and taking an age to make their way along the procession. Emma could only wish the time away as she sat politely gazing across the men (and trying to banish thoughts of the officer with the too-blue eyes).

Finally the formalities were completed and King David ordered the orchestra to strike up for the first dance. This was the portion of the evening that Emma loathed most distinctly.

"Are you going to dance tonight, my lady?" Lady Lucas asked her when she finally let herself relax a little in her seat.

In reply Emma huffed and tossed her oldest friend a glance, "You know I hate dancing," she replied.

Ruby smiled, her scarlet hued lips rising into an amused smile. "I barely think you have indulged enough in the activity to hate it."

"Red, you know I despise dancing - especially with people I don't know."

Her friend laughed softly, "And I think you like to pretend you are shy but in reality are anything but."

Their discussion was interrupted by the arrival of Dr. Whale, the king's new private physician who requested the first dance with Lady Lucas. Ruby was about to decline when Emma took her hand and held it out to the doctor. "Go, dance. Enjoy the evening. I can sit on my own without problem."

Flashing a thankful smile Ruby took the doctor's hand and made her way in the the assembled group of dancers. Emma watched her friend leave with at least a small amount of jealousy panging in her heart. She wished her friend well and she knew that Dr. Whale was rather enamoured with her. The princess's own state of confirmed spinsterhood should not condemn others to the same fate, she thought wryly as she continued to watch the crowd, glad that their attention was now taken by the dance rather than herself.

That is until she saw the same too-blue pair of eyes from just minutes earlier trained on her from across the room. The same little tug she felt before overcame her and she blushed furiously but was unable to look away until the officer's attentions were drawn away by the young Captain who was by his side. Emma quickly dropped her eyes and picked up her goblet of wine, hiding her discomfort in its contents.

At the other end of the ballroom, Killian was lost for a moment in thought over just what had created that expression of weariness in the princess's eyes. Surely royalty lived a charmed life, yet she seemed to wear the weight of the world behind that beautiful green shade.

"Brother," Liam said nudging him in the side and startling him, "Wake up."

"Sorry, I was just thinking. Are we to dance?"

"Not quite enough ladies yet, Killian, a boatful of naval men will put paid to that in a ballroom. I'd say we shall have to wait until at least the next. Let us take a turn about the room, shall we? I see a few familiar faces I'd like to greet."

Nodding his acceptance, the two took a goblet of wine each from a passing waiter and began to make their way to the head of the room. Killian was unable to see the princess as they walked through the mingling guests, resulting in his curiosity growing by the second.

"So, dear brother, what do you know of our royal family?"

"You never did pay much attention to the court, did you?"

"You can hardly blame me when my entire career - these past ten years -have been spent with barely a week's furlough in our home kingdom."

"The life of a sailor is a difficult one, Killian. But you know how grateful the King is for our sacrifice, and now with the Queen's defeat I'd say we will be spending more time on closer shores."

The thought of being closer to home was certainly appealing. After being raised as young boys not far from the castle, they'd been not yet in their teens when their father had taken them with him on his travels over the ocean before he finally abandoned them many leagues from home. It had taken years of toil and the eventual enrollment of Liam in the kingdom's navy for the chance to return home to present itself, not that a naval officer spent much time on dry land. And after a few years working as a cabin lad, Killian had joined his brother in service. They had known nothing but a life on the sea for so long.

"But to answer your question, here in the kingdom the king and queen are venerated as kind and generous to their people. You yourself have seen the strict rules about the treatment of the enemy during war time."

"And the heirs?"

He heard his brother chuckle beside him, "I'd take it by that you mean the princess?"

Killian gave his agreement with his silence.

"Well, I know only a little. She is unmarried and has not been courted for some time. There was talk of someone many years ago - a son of a duke or some such - but nothing since then. She is generally thought to be quite brusque and with those below her station."

"Hmm," Killian sighed, feeling none the wiser about this royal enigma. "I'd say that's her prerogative."

Liam paused, nodding a greeting to someone across the room.

"Perhaps," he nodded and Killian took the conversation to be at an end when they were joined by a general wearing Arendelle's naval uniform.

Four dances in and Emma was still nursing her glass of wine. Ruby had returned to her side after three and was persisting in her attempts to get the princess to join in.

"Come now your highness, you know women are in short supply."

Emma scoffed.

"Don't our brave officers deserve the honor?"

The princess gave her friend a pointed look. "Your attempts will not work. It is not my job to bestow royal consequence on every sailor in uniform who crosses the threshold of the ballroom."

"And if I were suggesting you dance with every crewman I could understand your disdain. But perhaps dance with the captain? Or at least his lieutenant? It doesn't hurt that he is very handsome."

Emma felt a flush rise on her cheeks again at the mention of the man with the too-blue eyes who she had caught staring at her more than once.

"Look," Ruby continued with a whisper, "See, they are standing mere feet away from us, I can arrange an introduction-"

Emma took hold of her friend's arm before she could rise.

"No," Emma spat, "You are wasting your time Ruby. I have no intention of dancing with any man in this room tonight, least of all the lieutenant."

In front of the royal table, Killian felt his ears burn as the words of the princess reached him. Yes, he was supposed to be listening to Admiral Taylor drone on about future peacekeeping activities, but when he had realized that he was close enough to eavesdrop on the princess's tete-a-tete he hadn't been able to resist. In fact he had been quite hopeful when the lady in waiting had suggested him as a dancing partner. Only to feel a scowl forming when she had dashed his chances with her icy words.

"Now then," came the brusque voice of Admiral Taylor, "Have you two boys danced?"

"Not yet, as you can see the number of ladies is not quite adequate for our ranks this evening," Liam answered, giving Killian time to settle his expression after what he had overheard.

"Nonsense," boomed the admiral, who immediately began to peer around the room. "Look, our very own Crown Princess is unattended." He turned to face the royal before either Killian or Liam could reply. "My lady, do you wish to dance?"

Emma felt as surprised by the address as one could be after her previous words with Lady Lucas. She searched for the something to reply to let the old admiral down gently - he was after all, a good friend of her father. But before she could, he continued, "You would do the navy a great honor by dancing with one of the fine Jones brothers, both outstanding officers may I tell you."

This time it was the younger brother who managed to speak first, "Sir, I assure you we do not wish to inconvenience the lady." And with that, he shot Emma a quick glance that bordered on reproachful and she felt a pang of shame - had he heard what she had said to Ruby? Quickly she brushed that moment of feeling aside and schooled her features into a neutral set.

"It would not be an inconvenience, but I-"

"Splendid," grinned the admiral as he reached out for her hands, "I'm sure the young lieutenant here will do you a fine partner in the next."

Somehow a second later, her hand was being held by the man with too-blue eyes and a plume of heat was rising from where they joined, along her arm and up across her neck and decolletage. He smelt like soap and leather polish and radiated a delicious kind of warmth that she knew would feel wonderful against her in the lines of the dance-

Again, she practised her skills in pushing feelings away and instead concentrated on calculating how long the next dance would last before she could escape back to her seat.

Killian was escorting the princess from her seat before he had a moment to think. So he puffed up his chest and walked as tall and solemnly as he could, remembering his duty as an officer of the realm over all else.

They reached the dance floor a few seconds later, just as the strings struck up the opening bars of a somewhat somber number that she knew would necessitate some conversation to pass between the pair as they danced.

Killian, for his part was flitting between annoyance at her earlier dismissal of him and anticipation of the chance to hold her. For even if she was haughty and proud, she was beautiful and that expression in her eyes intrigued him as much as ever.

"Your highness," he announced as he bowed before her. She curtsied slightly in response, and maybe he imagined it but a brief smile seemed to cross her lips. Placing his hands at her waist he took a shaky breath as he felt the warmth of her body beneath them and the aroma of her spicy, floral perfume fill the air between them. It had been a long time since he had been so close to one so beautiful.

As the dance began, Emma felt she should speak, it was only polite to do so. But somehow words escaped her as he led her down the assembled coupled.

"You dance quite well, lieutenant," she finally observed after a moment's more silence.

A thin smile formed over his lips - lips that were close enough now for her to discern they looked soft and full and were remarkably well shaped.

"And that surprises you, Princess?"

She was unsure with what tone that was being delivered and she stumbled a second in the dance, instantly feeling his hand tighten at her waist to steady her.

"No…" she whispered, letting herself glance at those too-blue eyes for just a second, "T'was only meant as a compliment, sir."

A few more bars passed in silence.

"So then, m'lady, may I comment that the ballroom has certainly felt the lack of your own dancing skills."

"And how should a lady take such a comment?" she snipped, a little fire seeping into her blood when she knew she ought to behave.

"Why, as a compliment too, of course," he murmured, so close to her ear that his breath warmed her skin. Emma bit back another sharp reply, her lessons in deportment and lady-like behaviour swimming in her mind. Clearing her throat, she sought a different subject of discourse.

"So lieutenant, I hear congratulations are in order," she tried as he twisted her around the ballroom.

"I believe that is the purpose of this ball," he smirked as they were face to face again and despite herself Emma couldn't deny she quite liked the spark in this man, even though some may say he was bordering on impudence. (Though perhaps that was the thing she liked most.)

They turned into a another spin and and for a second they parted and she felt the loss of his body against hers in a way she wasn't quite able to admit. A second later, her fingers found the fine wool of his uniform. The uniform that was cut well against his broad shoulders and trim waist. She'd never before quite appreciated the splendor of naval attire the way she was that night.

"So," he began again, feeling bold, perhaps from the glass of wine, or maybe just from her closeness, "I see you do not like to dance so much, nor do you seem to like balls in general. What do you like?"

The question took her by surprise. It had been sometime since a gentleman - or any person in truth - had asked a question about her. Not about her title, or her family or her kingdom. Caught off-guard, she shrugged gently. "I like to read and to go horse riding."

"Quite singular past times, your highness."

"And what of it?" she snapped, immediately sensitive to the criticism, however slight.

"Merely an observation," he soothed.

The dance was slowing down. She twirled in his arms as the last bars played and finally their eyes met once more and she was suddenly struck by just how handsome this man was - not just in his features, but in the intelligent set of his brow and the sincerity in his voice when he spoke to her. And those eyes which she already knew would haunt her tonight.

"Well, your highness, I believe I have trespassed on your kindness long enough. I shall bid you adieu and take my leave."

And with that he bowed deeply and disappeared into the crowd, leaving Emma speechless and confused as the dancers around her began to prepare for the next dance.

Killian found his brother quickly. He was mightily perplexed by his brief time with the princess. She seemed to oscillate between friendly warmth and cool indifference as if it were natural to her. He understood where the accusations of pride came from, but he had sensed a glimpse of something else beneath her cool exterior.

"Brother," Liam smiled as he approached, "You survived your brush with royalty."

"Aye," he nodded as he reached for another goblet of wine from a passing waiter.

"And?" his brother asked, a teasing smile on his face, "She is a beauty, is she not? And she seemed a fine dancer."

"Aye, that she is."

"Tis a pity her personality is so flawed, or so they say. The admiral was free with his speech while you were in the dance, she seems to have gathered quite the reputation for haughtiness in recent years."

Killian gave his brother a brief smile. "Well then, it's a good thing that it takes more than a pretty pair of eyes to turn my head. Fear not, brother, I think my heart is quite safe from being wounded by a proud princess."

"And I'm glad to hear it," his brother replied, laughing as they tipped their goblets together, "I should hate to lose my first officer to a royal marriage."

And even though Killian knew his brother was teasing him, at the same time he felt that perhaps he hadn't been completely honest in his assessment of the royal; or in his own feelings beyond her fine eyes.

A/N: A short little multi-chapter fic to while away those dark winter nights - and I can't resist me some Lieutenant Duckling. Please let me know what you think.