A/N: Don't know if this is going to be a one-shot or if I'll be updating this later on with other short pieces, but I really wanted to do something fluffy and light-hearted, considering all the angst that's been going on in my other ones. I hope you all enjoy! :)

"Mom, please don't make me wear this…" Emma stood still with her arms outstretched on either side of her as her mother adjusted the silk that draped down her backside and rippled across the floor. She groaned and shook the ringlets from her face. Emma Swan was far from the princess her mother wanted her to be, but Snow White and Prince Charming, rulers of the Enchanted Forest and adored by all were hosting a ball tonight in honour of Emma's 18th birthday – something she had to attend. She hadn't been granted a single say about the matters regarding her dress at all.

"Oh please, Emma," Snow snapped, but her smile was warm and proud. "You look fine, and everyone will love you tonight. I promise."

Her parents were so infuriatingly optimistic sometimes, and kept talking about some kind of 'happy ending' they wished for her – it was about time she found a suitor, the whole kingdom was saying. It wasn't like she was some old maiden; Emma was only eighteen and her happy ending was not near the top of her priority list – if she had any at all.

It wasn't until after Snow left her in her room to wait when Emma wandered aimlessly to the window, resting her head on her hands. It was sunny out today, and she had to spend it all in the castle naysaying every single man who stepped up to her, all of them likely boring and average looking at best. Not that she was shallow, but he would come when he did, and not when the entire kingdom came to watch her clumsily descend into the ballroom.

Ugh. Emma groaned and rushed to the door, throwing it open. She pulled her shoes from her feet, the heels drilling pain into her toes. Emma walked briskly down the hall in the opposite direction of the murmuring voices. She needed fresh air, and the party was the last thing she wanted. When Emma reached the wide doors, she forced them open and ignored the guard's calls to her as she passed them. The wind hit her face in a swift breeze, messing up her carefully styled braids and curls, but Emma didn't care. She was never fit for this life – or at least, the one her parents wanted for her. She loved them with every ounce of her being, but they were still rulers when they needed to be.

The first place she thought to run to was the trees, and Emma hiked up the bottom of her dress to avoid tripping. The forest was her favourite place to hide, and there was one spot she was confident only she knew of. It had a marvelous view of the ocean, and there were just enough trees to shroud her from view of the castle should her parents go searching for her. They were usually pretty good with letting her wander, but the "we will always find you" got on Emma's nerves the most, and she scrunched her nose at the memories.

Emma had had enough of her dress. It was falling from her grip and the only solution to her growing problem was to get rid of as much as possible. With a daunting rrrriiiip, the bottom half of her red dress dangled as a long strip of fabric in her fist and she tossed it to the ground, desperately burying it underneath the dirt with her bare feet. She wouldn't hear the end of it from her parents, but it didn't burden her. Emma didn't like the dress, anyway. People had always commented on how alike she and her father were, but she never saw it…

Emma spent a long time hidden in the trees, but her curiosity was piqued when she heard the distant yelling of men in the distance near the water. When she peeked through the twigs, she saw four massive ships docked at the shore, and their men unloading crates. She studied them in silence, wondering if she should go to them. Emma could gather up the courage to step out from the shadows, but the fear of them recognizing her was far too great.

All the more reason to go.

Emma had taken a certain interest to ships lately, with their big billowing sails and the sheer size of them, and their ability to travel anywhere, and the vessels always made her feel small in comparison. The men looked to be unloading boxes with contents to bring up to the castle, and their captains were barking orders at them.

As she got closer, she could see them all a little more clearly with their funny hats nestled atop their heads and their fancy big-buttoned jackets. She made her way to the docks above the water and navigated past the men running around her, most of them not taking notice to the barefooted princess in their way. She read the names of the ships carved on the sides: Providence, Interceptor, Jewel of the Realm… where the hell did they get such weird names? Emma pouted at the name of the last one and how it awkwardly rolled off her tongue, wondering where captains decided on what they should call them. They all looked the same to her when they were all lined up in a row.

Emma spotted a flask sitting on one of the piers a few steps away and she snatched it up to sniff it. Rum. Maybe they were all pirates, she mused. Emma smiled at the thought, remembering the stories she had read about pirates long ago ravaging the seas; stories of survival and deception and love. They had always been her favourites. She lifted the flask to her mouth ready to sip, when a voice called out behind her.

"You shouldn't be taking what isn't yours."

Emma spun around, dumbfounded, tripping over herself and regaining her balance when she saw him. He was wearing one of the funny hats over his black hair, and he had a short ponytail peeking out the back of it. His eyes were the bluest she'd ever seen, and it left her breathless for only a second as they met hers. Emma glanced down at the bottle and back up at him, piecing together what he was saying, and then she smirked. "Finders keepers," she mocked, waving the flask in front of him. Her smile faded when he stiffened, straightening his back.

"Do you know what happens to princesses who drink rum?" he said sternly, and he looked like he was trying real hard to keep his posture.

Emma cocked an eyebrow and sipped the rum loudly. "What makes you think I'm a princess?"

He motioned at her, waving his hand up and down, but his gaze averted elsewhere. "Well, it's certainly not the dress that gives it away," he teased. "They get drunk. That's bad form, princess." He bowed low, a playful smile appearing at the corners of his lips. Emma punched him in the arm, forcing him to stand upright again.

"Don't," she said, swallowing down the strong taste. It settled on the back of her tongue and she frowned. Is this what they drink at sea? "I'm no princess, just call me Emma." She hated the title, and she hated the responsibilities that were attached to it. As if it wasn't enough that he continued to refer to her as such, but the bow pushed her limits. She gasped softly when he snatched the bottle from her weakened and unsuspecting grasp and gave it a good toss into the water. "Well, whoever's that is will be mighty disappointed to find it gone when he comes back." Emma tilted her head to one side, her eyes darting between his hat, the outfit, and his eyes – it always went back to the eyes – and hummed. "What's your name, sailor?"

Emma spotted redness surfacing on his cheeks and at the tip of his ears then, and he scratched behind his neck. "I – uh – lieutenant Killi – Killian Jones," he sputtered, and he shifted his weight from left leg to right leg and back again. Any air of confidence he once possessed was gone in an instant and Emma couldn't help but giggle at the nervous boy that replaced the lieutenant. "Not er – sailor," he went on, more awkward than Emma could have imagined. "Not that it matters much, of course."

Emma shook her head. "No, my apologies, lieutenant," she giggled. "Wouldn't want you to be mistaken for something you're not." She reached for the ripped seams of her dress and curtsied, like a "proper princess would do." Had all those etiquette lessons finally paid off? All of them leading up to this? It wasn't likely, but Emma snorted shamelessly at herself. "Are you coming to the fancy ball tonight for my birthday?" The sarcasm was bleeding heavily through her voice, and she rolled her eyes.

Killian shook his head. "Yes, but you won't find a dance partner in a sailor boy," he laughed. "Your mother and father invited us as gratitude for our services."

Emma's breath caught in her throat, and she forced it back with a gulp. "I don't even want this thing, but whatever," she groaned, ignoring the fluttering in her chest. She released her hair from their braids, letting it fall down across her chilly shoulders. She was getting goose bumps – probably because of the breeze by the water always being a little colder than normal. Emma chanced a quick peek at him, and he was watching her curls fall loose before he hastily looked away again.

"Besides…" Killian continued. "I'm not – really – I can't…"

He was interrupted by another man calling from the ship. "Killian!" He appeared over the side of the ship, leaning over to spot him on the dock. He looked similar to thelieutenant – he had the same black hair and vivid blue eyes. "Killian, there's no reason you should be standing around. We've got mere hours left before everything has to be set." The man awaited Killian's answer.

"Aye, brother!"

Brother?

"I had best be going, pri – er, Emma?" For a brief moment, his hand found her shoulder and he squeezed it lightly. His palm was warm against her cold skin and she watched him with widening eyes as he turned away from her, shooting several glances over his shoulder with a smile.

"You can't what? I'll see you here?!" she called out, waving her hand above her head. She couldn't help it, but there was something mysterious behind that smile and it sucked Emma in. She wanted to talk with him more, learn more about him and his adventures, as much as she cursed at herself for thinking it. Her voice went high in pitch and she cleared her throat.

Killian turned around to wave to her, and the cocky smile he wore when she'd first faced him was back, and he saluted. "Aye, I'll see you!" His voice sounded sad, and Emma didn't understand why, but she accepted it. The smile disappeared when he tripped over himself walking backwards, almost hitting the ground. He stumbled on his feet to regain his balance and pretended like she hadn't seen it.

Emma stifled her laughter, but she turned and made her way back to the castle. She had forgotten that her dress was ripped and her feet covered in dirt, but it didn't faze her. They would find something else for her to wear, she was sure of it. All she could worry about was finding a dance partner in a sailor boy. The underlying tones of his 'aye' as he shouted it to her bothered her, and it was silly that it was crossing her mind at all. Emma never invested herself in boys or relationships, but it felt as though he was the only one who carried a hidden understanding of her. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but she actually enjoyed their conversation. He was doing strange things to her. Trying to push it all away, Emma took her tattered dress and blackened soles with her as she stomped to the castle doors.

Stupid boys in their stupid hats.