If Emma wasn't already enervated by constant chatter about the ball, she soon would be- for the Charmings- in all their royal obnoxiousness- had devised a rather disrupting wake up plan, to spare themselves or the servants the trouble of facing the young princess' rage.
"Ems! Ems!" Neal's wobbling voice came from the door of her chambers, and her irritated groan was barely muffled by her pillow. Regina herself had brought the little prince to Emma's room, and her much-needed sleep was fatefully interrupted.
"Hush, now, let the monster sleep," Regina chided her godson. "Gods above know- she won't be getting much of that in the coming years." Emma raised her matted head of hair to glare at her teacher.
"I'm not a monster, I'm a princess." she protested, silently adding, ´and that is just as terrifying!'
Regina rolled her eyes, setting Neal down on Emma's feather comforter. The lad scurried his way up to his sister, and snuggled in close to her shoulder. His maple-brown curls tickled her arm, and she grumbled loudly. Giving him a quick hug before letting out a very disheartened sigh, Emma sat up in her bed, tangles of sunshine locks falling around her face.
She stood as Regina helped to pull out her dress for the ball, a beautiful velvet gown of red and gold, beaded with jewels around the neckline and sleeves. The flowing silk of the bodice trained down to her waist, and the hanging sleeves would wrap tightly around her small figure.
"Go bathe, monster. I'll tidy up before your parents find out you've been traipsing around the village all night. I swear, the stench of your liquored adventure is noticeable a mile away." Came the former queen's knowing scold, but when Emma met her almond-eyed gaze she found only a playful smirk plastered across her fair face, and the dimples in the woman's cheeks spoke of a tale for Emma- one yet to be determined.
The crimson embroidery and the golden satin of Emma's gown swished across the floor of the ballroom as she made her way to her parents. Her duel with Arthur was to start soon, after her dance with her father, and Emma was quaking with nerves.
It wasn't as though she was unprepared- she had been training for this for years- she just couldn't seem to calm her trembling fingers. She hadn't the faintest idea what to do about the "Captain Killian Jones" situation, and it had been distracting her the entire night. After all, what exactly was the 'proper' response to a proposal of such sort? Emma shook her head at her own thoughts. She had a duel to prepare for, the respect of the knighthood to win, and a dance to attend to. Hook would have to wait on his final answer. She never had been one for 'proper', anyways.
King David's sparkling smile paid no notice to her worries, and was filled with pride as he watched his daughter bow before him. Queen Snow spoke joyfully before he could open his mouth.
"Emma, you look stunning." Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, and threatened to spill on to the blue and diamond encrusted dress she wore. David placed his hand over his wife's and chastised her softly,
"Snow, really, we promised no tears." The Queen rolled her eyes, and grasped her daughter's hand in her own.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart, I'm trying not to get too emotional." She promised, but her tone wobbled and Emma grinned.
Wiping away her mother's stray tears, the princess told her,
"Mom, it's okay. The kingdom is safe and prospering. Your rule is loved by all. Our family is bigger than ever, and content, too. No crying today."
"We're just happy to see you so… grown, Duckling." Her father interjected, "In fact, I believe it's come time for our dance." Emma smiled softly, taking his hand and leading him to the floor.
The trembling of the orchestra strings danced along with them, and she closed her eyes for a moment to savor the feeling of her father's arms guiding her. For all she knew, Arthur could accidentally run her through with his sword during the duel. It was quite possible this would be his little duckling's last dance.
"Father, is all of this really necessary? My birthday really isn't such a big deal." She mumbled, the twisting nerves in her gut expanding and retracting as she eyed the crowded room. David twirled her, bringing her back into their stepping pattern.
"Of course it is, my dear. Tomorrow begins your training in bureaucracy. You know how to fight, and you know how to wield magic. It's high time you learned how to deal with stuffy neighboring Kingdoms and their arrogant rulers." Emma groaned, stepping back when her father stepped forward. She spun, returning to him.
"How enticing." She smarted dryly.
He chuckled, rotating her around the ballroom with the other dancing partners.
"I had about the same reaction when I was crowned ruler."
"But you were a shepherd before this, father. You at least got to experience the world first." She argued, and he quickly hushed her.
"Now's not the time for this, Duckling. If you really want adventure, you can go with our convoy tomorrow morning to lead the attack at the southern shores." Her blood ran cold, and she nearly stumbled.
"What? What do you mean?" She inquired, attempting to sound uninterested but instead coming off as nervous and shaky. The king frowned, as the dance came to an end.
"It's nothing out of the ordinary, my dear. A crew of miscreants has docked by the southern village. King Midas' kingdom has a bounty on the captain's head. If we attack early, while they sleep, they won't know what hit them. A dead pirate's as good as a live one, anyways." He tilted his head. "Are you feeling alright? You've gone pale."
Emma was certainly not feeling alright. Her mind raced with thoughts of the pitch-haired scoundrel, waking at an unholy hour to a knife in his chest. She nearly spilled the contents of her stomach onto the ballroom floor. She pulled her lips into a tight smile.
"I'm just feeling a little faint, that's all. I'm going to get some air." Her father furrowed his brows in concern, but let her go.
When she reached the balcony, her hands were shaking with nerves. She had only just met the man, but something about Hook's actions at the tavern gave her doubts about not intervening. She had to warn Killian and his crew, but escaping unnoticed was no easy feat. She closed her eyes, magic and energy humming through her veins with a burning intensity. The wind gusted around her, and the doors to the balcony slowly closed. The moonlight was pale on her hair, but Emma's intent was enough to outshine it nonetheless. She hadn't practiced teleportation with her magic enough, but running through the village would simply not do- she had to make this work.
The flurries of fear that had been tingling in her fingernails grew bigger and bigger as she focused, swirling around and shooting up her bones, her muscles contracting along with the freckles dusting her skin. She focused on the familiar image of the docks she had visited as a child, clear water struck by village lights. She strained, beads of sweat forming at the top of her forehead, then a flash, and suddenly she was standing there.
The boards creaked and shook under feet, but she had no time to worry for the state of the wood- she had a pirate to warn. She felt a lurch of dizziness, and shook it off. Racing down the docks, her eyes landed on a ship at the end, one without the blue and white of her kingdom's navy, and the obvious mark of a pirate's sail. It was painted red and star-crusted, with sails of fleece and masts of chestnut- rocking gently in the harbor. Emma climbed the steps to the ship, not bothering to ask for permission. A bumbling man in a wooly red hat, armed with a broom, jumped in front of her.
"Ahoy! No one boards The Jolly Roger without consent from its captain first!" he claimed, but his tone was shaky and he nearly stuttered over his words. Emma stepped further on to the ship and raised an eyebrow, daring him to stop her. He didn't.
Instead, he gulped, and shouted,
"Captain! Captain!"
Emma's hands started to shine as her nervous energy built, tendrils of magic forming and dissipating as she shook.
"Seven hells, Smee, you'll wake Hades himself!" came Killian's voice, ascending the stairs from below deck. A sigh of relief escaped Emma, and she pushed away from the mast.
"Killian!" She breathed, rushing towards him.
She saw only his raised eyebrows and a look of confusion before she threw her arms around his neck. Her nails dug into his leather-clad shoulder, and she inhaled the scent of rum and sea. For a minute, a fleeting thought swirled through her mind, a quiet 'I could get used to this', and she shook it off before she could pay any mind to it.
"Swan. I see you've changed your mind." He chuckled, his hook resting on her waist. She stepped back to look at him, still shivering and dizzy.
"N-not quite. I've c-come to warn you."
His features darkened slightly, and his the corners of his lips twitched dangerously. The black of his vest strained under his heavy coat, the tails of a dark cotton shirt barely visible in the dark. His tucked shirt was only marked by the shine of a heavy belt buckle resting between his hips. Not that she was looking, or anything.
"Warn me? Of what?" His voice urged, not nearly as frantic as she might have expected, but insistent enough to make her feel fainter.
"It's the King. He's planning an attack on you and your crew in the early hours of the morning. You have to leave." Killian tightened his hold on her, but it wasn't threatening- more reassuring.
"How do you know this, lass?" He questioned, knowing she was hiding something from him.
She shook her head, and scrunched her nose. She nearly fell from the exhaustion that plagued her- surely a side effect from premature teleportation, and Hook gripped her waist a little tighter to stabilize her.
"It's not important. What is important is that you get away from here. Now."
Killian shook his head. "I serve no king, and I run from none either. If the bastard wants a row, who am I to deny him one?" Emma ignored the pang of guilt lying in her chest.
"He's not a bastard. He's just… stubborn. This is not a battle you want to fight. Please, just-"
"And you would you know of what I want?" He bit, stepping back from her, his good arm resting on his sheathed sword. Emma felt a wave of nausea roll through her.
"Hook-"
"Who are you?" He narrowed his eyes. Emma forced her tone to be even, despite the tight grip she held on her own beaded sleeves.
"I'm an ally. You need to trust me, if you value your own life."
"Is that a threat, love?" He stepped closer, his eyes refusing to leave hers. The muscles in her jaw tensed, and she jutted her chin out.
"No. It's the truth. I'll have you know, I risked a lot to come tell you." She wasn't technically lying, but it still felt wrong to give him half-truths. He raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. Yet, as he turned to his first mate, she thought she could see the trace of a smirk on his face.
"Go collect the crew, Smee. We set sail within the hour." Smee looked timidly to Emma.
"Is the girl coming with us?" Killian looked back to Emma, who was dressed in an outfit fit for a princess. Emma frowned.
"'The girl' has a name, jackass. It's Swan, and you can ask me directly."
Killian seemed to hold back a chuckle. Smee twitched uncomfortably and flickered his eyes back to his captain for confirmation. Hook nodded.
"She most certainly will be. The lovely Swan," he said her name as if he knew it was a lie, "is hiding something. I do intend to find out what."