Circus of Fire

(Written for AU Week on Tumblr) :)

It was raining heavily when the circus came to town. Emma watched the carriages rolling in from her balcony, the wind whipping through her hair as her white shift blew in the wind. Maybe if she got sick her parents would let her stay home in bed with a nice fire and some warm cocoa – a nice romance novel…

But of course, her mother had to come running in at that point, crying out words of chastisement as she dragged Emma inside and closed the glass doors, drawing the curtains to keep the warmth of the fire in.

"You're going to be sick if you keep this up, Emma!" Snow cried in frustration, "Genevieve!" Snow called to the servant walking past in the hallway. "Can you run a bath for the Princess?"

"Of course, my Queen," she said demurely before scampering off.

"Emma, I understand that you don't want to go, but we have to make an appearance," Snow answered, "These are the best entertainers in the land."

"Then why can't they come to the castle rather than making us go out in the cold," Emma retorted. That wasn't her reasoning, but she just really didn't want to go. She wasn't willing to admit why, not to her mother, and definitely not to herself.

When the bath came back in, she was left alone to soak. Unfortunately for her, that also left her to reminisce. To reminisce on time when she had loved the circus; when spring had arrived and she had run to the horses and seen the ribbon dancers and the boy who threw daggers and blew fire.

But now, in the heart of winter, with the coldness seeping into her bones, she knew she couldn't go. She couldn't face that darkness. She couldn't face those dark and desperate eyes that held so much pain and anguish. It had been three years.

She couldn't go. Because he would be there.

Three Years Ago

"Do you trust me?" The young girl's eyes looked up at the boy on the horse, his blue eyes sparkling as he held out his hand. He was grinning at her in mirth and she was so hesitant that is seemed he was laughing at her.

"No," Emma replied finally, folding her arms.

"Come on, Princess," he grinned. "Don't you want to know what it feels like to fly through the air with nothing but fields and forests surrounding you for hours on end…"

"I bet you say that to all the girls," Emma rolled her eyes as she looked at his waiting hand. "It makes me like you less."

"You're lying," the orphan boy answered with a knowing smile. Emma moved to protest but he shrugged. "It's okay, you're an open book."

"And you," she answered. "I've known you but three hours and you want to go gallivanting. You could be a murderer for all I know!" How dare he expect so much! Although, it was only her nobility that was telling her no – her pride. Every other element of her body and mind was screaming at her to take his hand…a chance…

"Can you get me back before supper?" Emma enquired, almost disbelieving of herself.

"I can," he answered, flashing her that mischievous smile. "Try something new, princess."

There were only a few moments silence before she took his arm and used it as leverage to settle in behind him on the bareback horse.

"Am I going to end up really sore tomorrow?" Emma asked in concern, a moment before they took off.

"Only if you insist," Killian answered, looking back to wink at her. "Hands around my waist Princess, don't want to damage that precious body of yours."

She latched her hands around him, finding his body warm. She smirked behind him as she tightened her grip, warning him, "No funny business, Jones."

"I wouldn't dare, Princess."

"So, you just travel the kingdoms then?" Emma enquired, laying down facing him. Propped up on her elbows in a field of green grass, she stared at the boy who was painting pictures in the clouds. "Is it wonderful?"

"I suppose," Killian answered, with a shrug, "It gets a little monotonous after a while. And when people move on so fast, its not like you have any kind of roots."

"So why don't you stay?"

"And who would I stay with, Princess?" Killian answered, looking down at her with hardening eyes. "I have no family left. The circus is my place."

"But if you could," she answered, so desperate to see into the boy's heart. "If you could settle down anywhere, where would it be."

"I've never stayed, Princess," he answered, softly, "I can't imagine a life without movement."

"Perhaps you'd be at home upon the sea," Emma suggested, tugging herself closer, and hesitantly laying her head down on his stomach. She felt him pick up a lock of her hair, twirling it around his finger delicately. It sent a shiver down her spine, a kind of anticipation threading through her.

"Maybe I would," he murmured, and they sat there until the sun went down, and they returned back to the circus where by night Killian Jones became the knife-throwing aficionado of the Circus of Fire.

And Emma was just a Princess on her special seat under the tent, watching him with gleaming eyes.

So when he winked at her through the flames, it was no surprise that she already found herself afire.

"How many more days are you here, Killian?"

"For another two weeks, milady," he answered, his hand tucked warmly into hers. "Your kingdom is a hive of activity. I'll admit it's the longest we've stayed any place in a very long time."

"Well, I'm glad," Emma smiled, turning to look at him with a tender yet coy gaze. "Tell me Killian Jones, have you seen the River Delnai?"

"No, I can't say I have…"

"Good, we're going," she settled quickly, excitedly clapping her hands together. "This afternoon; it's a date."

"It is?" The boy's eyes widened but the Princess merely laughed.

"It's afternoon tea, not marriage," she laughed, scampering away, "Four o'clock with your horse."

"As you wish, Princess."

She kissed him for the first time that afternoon. He tasted of apples and innocence, even as she saw the hardship in his eyes. It only made her kiss him fiercer, tugging on his simple brown shirt as he rolled her into the grass.

The second time, it was he who kissed her. Emma had only been down in the town to check on some jewellery being made for her mother by a local jeweller, and she found herself being pulled away by very familiar hands. Beneath the gaze of her guards, Killian Jones had slipped, his nimble hands stealing her away to the docks where he sat her down on the pier, and kissed her lovingly. He cradled her head and pulled her waist to him, tentatively trying to show her just how much she meant to him in only those past few days.

The third time, they sort of just collided. They'd both been heading to see the other, and in the middle of the woods, their bodies embraced, lips and tongues seeking warmth from the other. Killian had just learnt that the circus was moving on four days early. Emma had just learnt that her mother had arranged her marriage to Prince Baelfire.

But he wasn't the one she loved.

She drew him back to his carriage, where a small bed and shelves made up his room. But it was perfect. It was perfect as she drew her lips over him and divested him of his shirt, following the scars left by the practice of knives. It was perfect as he picked her up and laid her down on the bed carefully. For everyone's talk that she was a Princess and not a child, he was the only one who treated her so.

"Killian," she breathed, as his lips trailed down her neck, his hands trailing beneath her skirt and setting fire to the skin of her thighs. "Oh gods, please don't stop."

"Never," he whispered into her collarbone, laving his tongue over the spot, bound to leave markings that she couldn't care less about. "Princess, are you sure?"

"I have never been so sure of anything in my life," she answered honestly, eyes wide and glowing as she took his face in her hands. "I love you."

"I love you too, Emma," Killian breathed, the orphan boy caressing her face once more, "I love you too."

Emma was shivering by the time she finally removed herself from the rapidly cooling bathwater. She slid into her robe before heading into her wardrobe to find something suitable to wear. She'd wear rags if she thought her mother would let her get away with it.

No, ever since Prince Baelfire had passed away in a hunting accident mere weeks before their wedding date, the Queen had been making sure her daughter had every chance to appear presentable. Even at the circus…

Emma decided on a plain blue dress with soft embroidery on the hem. It was simple and classic and wouldn't draw too much attention. But the glittering tiara that sat tauntingly on her dresser would.

She sighed as she watched the clock on her wall tick closer to sundown. She didn't want to do this. But maybe he'd moved on! Perhaps he wasn't there after all…

"Emma," her mother burst in, "You look beautiful! Come down for dinner…"

The rest of the evening passed in a blur, and before she knew it, she was surrounded by her family and the servants as they headed down to the massive tent by the riverside. Emma gulped when she saw his trailer – the knives painted so delicately on the side with the initials K.J. scripted beside it.

She forced herself to breath evenly as she took her seat overlooking the people and the circus pit. She didn't want to admit that she waited only for him. To loathe his beautiful face and to see that he was okay, despite her heart that ached with the nearness of him.

He was older.

He was stronger.

His eyes were darker.

Hollow.

And yet, at some time through the performance, amidst the applause and the cheers, he found her. Emma sat with her hands folded, immovable and shocked. Because all those feeling she thought she'd flushed away were battling with her hatred and fear and loathing.

All she wanted was him.

"Emma are you o…kay…oh."

Emma couldn't tear her eyes away from the boy with the knives, racing around with such direct aim it was like each point colliding was another blade in her heart. When he bowed and the audience rose, Emma moved with them. But her mother, who she realised had been the one to speak earlier, placed a hand on her arm and muttered, "Go to him."

"What?"

"Go," Snow repeated, watching the young man exit the stage.

"Mama, I hate him."

She gave Emma a knowing look.

"Doesn't seem that way to me."

Her eyes blinked. And whether or not Emma wanted to kiss him or kill him, she ran for the exit, around the back of the tent to where Killian was heading to his small temporary home.

"You!" she yelled, practically tackling him to the ground from behind. "You pompous. Arrogant. Jerk. How dare you leave me like that!"

"Emma, please," he spun around beneath her, eyes wide and apologetic as he held her wrists in his strong grip. "I tried to come back for you. I did. But I couldn't find a way to leave these people…they have become my family. And then I heard of your engagement. To Prince Baelfire and I…I am no prince," he sighed finally, letting go of her. She slapped him once, her eyes fiery and mad.

"I don't forgive you."

"I wouldn't expect you to so soon, love," he almost grinned. As did she.

"Is that a challenge?" Emma whispered, leaning forward to place her forehead against his, breathing him in. She was so pained from his abrupt farewell, but they had known it was foolishness. To give in for just that short time…

Maybe they had longer this time.

"Will you stay?" she asked abruptly, cutting off whatever he was about to say. Leaning back up, she continued, "If I gave you a home, will you stay."

"I handed in my resignation yesterday, tonight was my last show," Killian answered, almost a little sheepishly. But Emma was frozen. His last show…it couldn't be coincidence. Someone had to have known…

Her mother had to have known.

"You and I, Killian Jones, we're going home," she said with a soft smile and a chaste kiss to his lips.

"I like the sound of that," Killian grinned. "Home."

"And then I'm going to be having a few words with my mother…"