Emma was utterly, despicably, undeniably bored. After spending over an hour in the receiving line greeting guests and then being forced to converse with noble dignitaries at the banquet table, she was ready to tear her constricting dress right off and go fleeing from the castle.

Of course, that would be an entirely scandalous thing for a princess to do, and though many words may describe her - stubborn, strong-willed, independent - scandalous was not one of them. For as much as she longed for a less restrictive role in life, she loved her parents dearly and would never do anything to disappoint them so gravely.

She just...skirted around the rules sometimes, that's all. Nothing that her own adventurous mother hadn't done at some point.

And so it was that she was making her way around the perimeter of the ballroom, hoping to avoid dancing with yet another long-winded duke or worse yet - some prince deadset on seeking her hand in marriage - when she nearly ran right into the lean form of a dark haired stranger, also seemingly hiding in the shadows on the edge of the ballroom.

"Sorry!" she said quickly, stepping back and attempting to regain her bearings. Her eyes scanned slowly up his body, taking in the close fit of his dark trousers and the outrageous amount of chest hair on display due to his barely-buttoned shirt. If that wasn't enough to make her gasp, the lecherous grin he was giving her as his (shockingly blue) eyes perused her figure was, his eyebrow arching nearly to his hairline.

"No need to apologize, love," his rich baritone sent shivers down her spine as he slid forward, taking her hand and lifting it to his mouth to place a soft kiss atop her knuckles, his eyes raising to meet hers from beneath sinfully long lashes.

His lips were soft and warm, but his scruff tickled her skin - sending a bolt of electricity all the way up her arm, and Emma jerked her hand away, feeling her pulse pound heavily.

"I'm not your love," she reproached him, crossing her arms over her chest. A very unladylike habit, to be sure, but she's certain her father would approve given the circumstances.

Of course, her protestation only made the mysterious man grin wider, his eyes dancing with mischief.

"Just who are you, then, love?" he asked, tilting his head at her as he edged his way into her space, just a bit closer than proprietary rules would abide, the path his gaze was searing across her cleavage lacking any propriety at all.

Emma huffed in exasperation, pressing her lips into a thin line. Who doesn't recognize the crown princess at her very own ball? Was this supposed to be some kind of joke?

Never one to back down from a challenge, however, Emma edged herself even closer to the man, until it seemed their toes were about to touch. Lifting her chin in defiance, she narrowed her eyes at him, trying desperately to convince herself that he wasn't the most handsome man she had ever seen, or that the dimple in his cheek wasn't completely and utterly charming.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" she finally answered him, gripping her arms tightly across her body.

His eyes flicked over her face, studying her in a way that was more unsettling than his ogling had been.

"Perhaps I would," he said softly, tilting his head to the side as he arched a brow in invitation, his eyes locking with hers for a long beat.

Emma bowed her head, dropping eye contact as she felt her face redden, unable to take any more of his intense interest, feeling as though he could see right through her irises into her very soul, exposing her. It was completely unnerving.

Instead of fleeing, however, she marched forward, her hands balling into fists at her sides, forcing him to step backwards, his face alight with curiosity. She continued until his back pressed up against a column, and Emma glanced around to see if any guards were nearby, feeling at her leg for the switchblade she kept strapped to her thigh (just in case).

"Listen, buddy, I don't know who you are or what you think you're doing here-"

He raised his hands in surrender, quickly glancing over his shoulder in a way that increased her suspicion insurmountably, but then he smiled broadly again, his eyes crinkling in amusement and catching her off guard, her breath catching in her throat at the sight. Why did he make her so impossibly off balance?

"Apologies, lass, I meant no harm. Forgive my impudence."

He dropped his hands then, slouching casually against the column and hooking a thumb behind his belt buckle as he scanned her over once again, biting his lower lip and drawing her eyes to the movement like a moth to a flame. When she looked up again, she could tell he had seen her do it by the twinkle in his eye, making her blush deepen. Reaching into his coat pocket, he pulled out a flask and rather curiously uncorked it with his teeth. Emma's eyes went straight to his other hand, and she realized it was a fake, although covered in a glove she was easily fooled.

"Care for a drink?" he asked, holding the bottle towards her.

Emma crossed her arms over her chest again. "Really? How do I know that's not poison?"

"Poison?" He shook his head in indignation. "This here's the finest rum you'll find in all the realms."

She rolled her eyes, obviously unimpressed, but he offered the bottle once again, lifting it higher.

When she didn't accept it, he finally relented, muttering, "Suit yourself, highness," before putting the flask to his lips and drinking, tilting his head back and revealing taut neck muscles and an adam's apple that bobbed as he swallowed. He really shouldn't be allowed to reveal so much...man cleavage. Or lick his lips like that after he was done, his tongue pausing at the corner of his mouth.

"Ha! So you do know who I am!" she asserted.

"You're a swan princess, isn't that right?" he gestured towards her frothy white dress, adorned with jewels and feathers.

Emma scowled, grabbing the flask from his hand and putting it to her lips, taking a quick taste. He hadn't died from drinking it, after all. The rum was sweet and spicy, and she raised one eyebrow and shrugged as she realized his claim that it was the finest hadn't been completely unfounded.

He smirked at her, and she felt unable to escape his gaze, but somehow she was no longer sure she wanted to. Taking the flask from her, he set it down on a table to re-cork it and then put it away.

"Though I'm starting to think you've got a bit of pirate in you, to be certain."

The man looked a bit too pleased with himself with that one, and Emma was about to refute him when he bent low at the waist, swinging his false hand out to the side as he bowed before her.

"Killian Jones, at your service milady." He stood up again. "And you, most alluring creature, are…?"

Somehow he'd captured her hand again, and Emma became startled as she wondered if he was going to kiss it again, the thought making her tremble in excitement.

"Emma," she answered simply, suddenly at a loss for words, her eyelashes fluttering furiously as this Jones fellow stepped into her space once again. He raised his eyebrow at the omission of her last name, most likely, but if he didn't already know she was the princess, she wasn't about to tell him. It was….simpler that way. Or something. Maybe she liked the idea of being someone else for the night, just a regular person for once.

She released the breath she hadn't known she'd been holding when he lowered her hand, though a small pang of disappointment flitted through her.

"Well, then, Emma," her name rolling off his tongue most spectacularly, "this is a ball after all, isn't it? Will you do me the honor?"

Emma started to panic as she realized he was leading her towards the dance floor, their secret soirée about to be not-so-secret anymore. She didn't know exactly why this alarmed her, only that she dreaded the reaction their dancing together might produce.

It was too late, however, as he walked with confidence onto the dance floor holding her hand, swinging her around and holding his prosthetic out to her in offering.

"Shall we, darling?"

Emma blushed again at the use of such a familiar term, but she nodded her assent, unable to contain the small smile that lifted the corner of her lips. Of course he noticed, a smug smirk on his face as he awaited her.

Stepping forward, she slipped her hand into his, placing her other hand on his strong shoulder as the music began playing, the song having just begun. Killian stepped closer, his hand like fire against her low back as he pulled her to him, and Emma turned her head to the side, unable to meet his penetrating gaze.

Then they were dancing, his steps light and graceful, the pair of them almost floating across the dance floor in a sea of colorful costumes and artfully styled hair. When he hummed in approval, Emma turned her head to look at him, and they were so close their noses were almost touching. She swallowed thickly, attempting to regain her composure.

"So, Mr. Jones is it? What sort of employment do you retain?"

He spun her out and she lifted her hand gracefully as required, then he spun her back to him again, never missing a beat.

"I'm a sea captain, actually."

Emma studied him carefully, noting that damn twinkle in his eye again, as if he was laughing at her. Deplorable. And somewhat fascinating.

"A sea captain? With the royal navy?"

He kneeled on the dancefloor, raising his arm so that Emma could take a turn around him.

Killian seemed to consider that, rolling his lip out before answering. "No, I'd say mine is a bit more of an...independent sort of venture."

Huh. A bit of a vague answer.

He stood again, drawing her in close, and her hand returned to his shoulder. They really did make a competent pair, at least as far as dancing was concerned. Their bodies were highly attuned to one another in a way that felt completely natural, if not borderline erotic.

Emma attempted to press further. "So, Captain, are you enjoying your visit to Misthaven? Has this venture been a profitable one?"

"Oh yes," he breathed, without hesitation. "And it seems to be getting more enticing by the minute."

His eyes dropped to her lips, and Emma's pulse quickened, his meaning entirely too clear. But just who was this dashing rapscallion? She'd certainly never met a ship's captain like him. More importantly, what would he say when he learned she was the princess? Certainly his bold demeanor would falter under the weight of that news.

Unconsciously, her eyes flicked towards the head of the room, where her parents would most likely be seated at their throne. What she saw was more alarming than ever, her mother quite obviously having been watching them the entire time, her head leaned in a concerned whisper towards her father. Killian followed her gaze, looking back towards her and then at the king and queen again as he seemed to put two and two together, though he remained calm and cool.

They continued dancing, but Emma noticed movement around the room, two guards reaching the dance floor as her parents stood up at attention. What in the world?

Jones looked a bit flustered for a moment, and she wanted to reassure him, to tell him her parents were just being overprotective as usual, but then he was stepping back and bowing again, this time not hesitating to bring her hand up to his lips and place a lingering kiss there, raising one dark eyebrow in a way that made her think all sorts of naughty things unbecoming of a princess.

"Until next time...Emma," he breathed quietly, winking at her conspiratorially, and she let herself get lost for a moment in the deep blue of his eyes, more captivating than any pair she'd ever come across before.

Then he was gone, moving with an athletic sort of agility across the room, one hand on the hilt of his sword, and Emma could do nothing but watch as he darted through the door, the royal guards quick on his heels.

She turned back towards her parents, irritation flaring in her chest. Here she'd had a dance with the most interesting man she'd ever met and her parents had chased him away. Walking towards them with fire in her eyes, she stopped when her mother grasped her arm, her father placing a protective hand on her back.

"Mother. Father. Was that really necessary?" She tilted her head towards the door. "I'm already bordering on becoming a spinster, you don't have to literally chase all the available suitors out the door, do you?"

"Emma, don't you know who that was?" Snow shook her head at her daughter.

"Captain Jones, I presume. Is that really so repugnant to you? A commoner taking interest in your daughter?" Emma sighed heavily, so tired of all their rules and expectations.

Her father shook his head, a slow smile spreading over his face and Emma felt remorse for a moment, remembering his humble beginnings as a shepherd.

"No, Emma, but I do find it repugnant when a pirate has his hands all over my daughter." David scowled at her, obviously perturbed.

"A pirate!" Emma laughed in disbelief, before her mouth clamped shut, the slow smile Jones had had on his face when he said he was a 'captain' flickering through her mind.

"Not just any pirate, Emma, Captain Hook!" her mother exclaimed, her face regretfully free of any humor.

Damn. She did not see that one coming. Biting her lip, she let that little tidbit sink in. Here, she had been wary of revealing her true identity, and all the while, he had been doing the exact same thing. What a charlatan!

"What did he say to you? Did he mention what he wanted?" her father inquired.

Emma blushed as she remembered the way his gaze had traveled to her lips, stopping there, and her fingers came up to touch her mouth against her volition. She was pretty sure she knew exactly what he wanted, but she wasn't about to tell her parents that.

Clearing her throat, she swung her arms at her sides, feigning nonchalance. "No, uh," she stalled, wishing she could tuck her hair behind her ears in her nervousness, "he was a perfect gentleman." Well, gentleman may have been a bit of a stretch, but he certainly didn't seem threatening.

Her mother breathed a sigh of relief. "Well, if you see him again, you call the guards immediately! We can't have pirates roaming the castle grounds."

Emma managed to stifle a snort at that image.

"God only knows what he was after," her father added, his brows stitched together in worry.

Emma shrugged, completely uncaring that he may have been there to steal something, and she could only attribute her lack of concern to the fact that he had, in fact, been quite gentlemanly. Besides, she thought cheekily, his pants were too tight to be hiding anything of great value, unless it was something exceedingly small he was concealing. Her brow furrowed in wonder.

"Well, then," she sighed. "I think I've had enough excitement for one evening. Would it pain you greatly if I retire for the night?" She smiled at her parents, raising her eyebrows in question. It was a plea she often made, but she was hoping tonight they might actually concede to it.

"Alright, daughter, I suppose you've done your duties for the night," her father answered, her mother smiling in that knowing way of hers, leaning in to kiss her on the cheek. "Goodnight, Emma," she said softly, giving her a comforting smile.

Later, as Emma leaned against the balustrade outside on her balcony, her hair blissfully braided behind her back, the cool night air drifting over her skin, she looked out towards the sea surrounding the kingdom, the great expanse of it shimmering in the moonlight.

"Captain Hook," she whispered almost incredulously, her fingers toying with the neckline of her nightgown.

Just then, movement caught her eye in the distance, and she saw a ship cutting quickly and quietly through the water. The sails were dark though the ship looked elegant, almost, not at all what she would expect a pirate ship to look like (not that she'd never seen one before). Instinctively, she knew it must be his, and she stood up in rapt attention.

She ought to have been alarmed, perhaps even called for the guards, but a rush of excitement sped through her, inexplicably and completely thrilling. It felt a little something like...hope.

Wistfully, she watched as his ship sailed away, a deep sense of longing overcoming her, though if it were for the ship or for the man, she couldn't be certain. All she knew was that the evening felt like a dream - a thing of fairytales - and aside from her royal surroundings, Emma had never thought her life resembled one before.

She smiled to herself, a secret smile, wondering if she'd ever see him again and immediately feeling guilt at the thought. But no one had ever smiled like that at her before, or dared get so close, and her mind wandered to the feel of his hand at the small of her back and the way his kiss sent shivers up her arm.

If that's what a pirate was really like, then she considered herself intrigued.