title: suits you better
pairing: captain swan - or should i say lieutenant duckling?
author's note:
oops i didn't write another chapter for chasing drinks and dreams but THE LIEUTENANT DUCKLING FEELS. ahem. this story will be a series of one-maybe-two shots, starring captain swan, in alternate universes/lives. i have a few chapters already planned out SO YAY FOR THAT. the hiatus is basically driving me insane. can anyone else NOT wait for christina perri's music video?!
disclaimer:
I do not own Once Upon a Time.


"SNOW!" Charming bellowed, barging into his wife's chambers with the force of a thunderstorm. The queen sighed heavily and rose to meet her husband; handsome as he was in the royal blue and gray colors, Charming could be rather wearisome on her nerves.

"Yes, my love?" Snow asked, gently.

"SHE'S GONE."

"Who, darling?"

"OUR DAUGHTER. YOU KNOW. THE PRINCESS."

"Ah…"

"EMMA IS MISSING AND ALL YOU HAVE TO SAY IS AH?"

Snow sighed again, because really, they'd spent the past ten years wondering where Emma was, why on earth would that change on her birthday? The princess of The Enchanted Forest has always been more of a free spirit, an adventurer, a wildling. Her younger brother, Prince Neal, was a gentler soul, the quiet, polite young prince who took after his father in almost every way.

It was as if Emma had taken the bandit in Snow White and the hero in Prince Charming, and become the most willful child around.

(Snow wouldn't have it any other way.)

"Charming, dear, calm down…"

"CALM DOWN? HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO CALM DOWN?"


The first time Emma had snuck out of the castle she was ten years old, and was playing hooky on her princess lessons—how to properly drink tea and greet guests and dear God, please let there be poison in this cup. Her brother had gone with her a few times, but Neal had never been as wild as her, and sometimes, Emma enjoyed the adventure alone.

But today, today she had needed to get out of there. The castle was full of guests from far off lands, of servants bustling about with armloads of cloth and dishes, everyone plotting and planning her birthday. Planning the party, plotting on whom to force on her first as a marriage candidate, conspiring on how to make her brother fall in love with some spoiled duchess.

She knew her parents would never make a marriage contract without her say, but the thought of all the princes and dukes and people she would have to interact with that night—

Emma suppressed a shudder of horror.

The young princess, deciding she wanted to look at the ocean, doggedly made her way through the crowd, down to the docks. Flashy, flamboyant ships from other countries had joined the royal family's armada. The flagship, The Jewel, looked magnificent in the sunlight.

Emma took a deep breath, thoroughly enjoying the scent of the salty water as it washed over her, and briefly dreamed of a life at sea, as a sailor, maybe a pirate, with no responsibilities, no one telling her what to do or where to go—

"May I be of assistance, lad?" came a suspicious voice.

Emma froze. Dressed in breeches and a cloak, with her hair pulled up beneath a cap, most would think her a boy at first glance. Something in the sailor's tone made her feel like he was mocking her.

He seemed young; tall and slim, and quite handsome actually, with devilishly blue eyes, and raven black hair, swept back from his forehead. In the crisp blue uniform, Emma recognized the lieutenant mark on his shoulder.

Bloody hell, Emma cursed in her head.

"Uh, no," she stammered, lamely. "Just…looking."

"Right," the lieutenant replied, drawing out the "i" in a skeptical tone. "Where are you from, lad?"

(Okay, definitely mocking her.)

Emma scowled at him, "Not sure that's any of your business, sailor, I'll just be on my way."

The lieutenant blocked her way. "It would be bad form for me to allow a young maiden off on her own."

"I am quite capable of handling myself," Emma snapped at him.

"I'm sure you are, lass. Still, I cannot—,"

But Emma darted around him and took off.


Lieutenant Killian Jones entered the King and Queen's ballroom a step behind his brother. They were not royalty, so they needn't be announced, but the Jones' brothers believed deeply in things like good form, so Liam led the way to where they could receive the royal family.

Killian was a man of the sea; to him, there was nothing quite as beautiful as the waves breaking apart for the ship to cut through, nothing as majestic as the sun breaking over the water's horizon. However, he had to admit that King Charming and Queen Snow White knew how to throw a party. Everything was draped in shades of blue and grey, something about swans seemed to be a theme. Familiar music sang through the halls, though Killian could not see the dancing couples through the crowd.

"Captain Liam Jones and his brother, Lieutenant Killian Jones," the announcer, er, announced, and Killian bowed low at his brother's side. When he looked up, King James had risen, arms wide, a great, kind smile on his face.

"Welcome home, Captain!" the king cried, coming down the steps and embracing Liam warmly.

The queen—as lovely as porcelain doll, dressed in a silvery gown—smiled gently from her throne. The prince, barely sixteen, looked handsome in his blue waistcoat. Neal smiled at the brothers, and Killian was given the impression he quietly observed everything.

"I trust your journey was not too treacherous, Captain?" she asked.

"Not at all, Your Majesty," Liam replied good-naturedly, though Killian wondered what part of sailing through siren-infested waters wasn't treacherous. "Would you allow me the honor of introducing my brother, Killian?"

"Recently made lieutenant, and youngest man of the rank to boot," King Charming said, turning that warm, friendly smile upon the younger Jones. He waved off Killian's second attempt at a bow, and instead shook his hand.

"Your recognition honors me, sire," Killian said, truthfully.

Charming just continued to grin, "You earned it, lieutenant."

"Mother, please do not make me dance with the Duke of Weaselton again," complained a voice.

"Oh, Emma…" Snow sighed, with a small laugh in her voice.

"You must allow me the honor of introducing my daughter, Princess Emma," laughed King Charming.

Killian's world, quite suddenly, turned on its axis.

Standing before him was the brat from the docks, the dirty lass dressed in lad's clothing, only now she wore a beautiful white ball gown, with feathers falling around her waist, and a silver circlet capping her golden locks. He might have missed it—she had disguised herself rather well after all—were not for those brilliant, clear green eyes, staring back at him.

(She recognized him, too.)

"Happy birthday, Your Highness," Liam said, bowing low. Killian quickly followed suit, though he couldn't quite seem to take his eyes off the princess as he did so.

"Thank you, Captain Jones," Emma replied in a very princess-like voice, so different from the snarky grumble Killian had heard on the docks.

"The Jones' brothers have served us very well, Emma," Snow said, smiling at them, with the air of a mother reminding her daughter to be polite.

"I am glad to see you safely returned to us," Emma added, and Killian thought he saw her roll her eyes.

"You are too kind, Your Highness," Killian said, and Emma's eyes flickered to him, suspiciously.

"if the Duke of Weaselton is so horrid, darling, why don't you dance with the lieutenant here?" Charming suggested. "His brother and I have much to discuss."

Emma looked as if she would rather swallow an egg, and Killian couldn't help but agree—what did he, a lowly sailor, a green lieutenant, have to say to a princess, the heir to the realm, the woman he would someday serve, as queen?

"What a lovely idea," Snow agreed, and Liam nodded, and it was so.

Killian bowed, "May I have this dance, Princess?"

Emma sighed, and accepted his hand.

"I must say, the ball gown suits you much better than dirty breeches and a patchwork cloak," Killian teased, as the music struck up and he led her about the ballroom.

Emma scowled at him; "The polite lieutenant suits you much better than the rude sailor on the docks."

"Just following orders, love. No ruffians allowed so close to the King's Navy." That made her scoff, and Killian decided he rather liked the sound.

"I won't tell anyone, you know," he added, as she glanced over his shoulder to where her father and his brother were talking. "About us meeting on the docks."

Gratitude flashed across her face as she said, "Thank you, Lieutenant Jones."

He smiled, "You may call me Killian, Your Highness."

She rolled her eyes, "Then you must call me Emma."


There is a part 2 in process and by that I mean I will probably post it, like, tonight, because who doesn't stay up until 2 am writing fanfiction?!