I'm pleased to inform you that the first draft is finished, so from now on you get one chapter a day the way you're used with my fics. Thank you for all the positive feedback, and enjoy some more angst.


Despite the extensive and none too easy job of being the King, Emma's father had never failed to spend a lot of time with her when she was growing up, and even though she doesn't need him as much as she used to, he still gives her his undivided attention whenever he can.

Today they are sparring in the courtyard and Emma thinks she's doing quite well until a blow she hadn't even seen coming disarms her and she's forced to stomp over to pick up her fallen sword.

"That was such a rookie mistake", she mutters and turns back toward him, but Charming sheathes his sword and wraps his arm around her, guiding her toward a bench in the corner where they sit down and she puts her sword carefully over her knees; she's wearing pants that had once upon a time belonged to her mother and she wishes she could keep wearing them instead of all those heavy, constricting dresses that are more fit for a princess she is.

"How about you tell your old dad what's bothering you", Charming says and Emma shrugs, tracing the intricate pattern near the hilt of her sword with her finger.

"It's nothing", she says stubbornly and rests her head on her father's shoulder, waiting for him to ask her more questions because she wants him to coax everything out of her.

"Can I help make the "nothing" better?" He asks her gently and she gets the sudden, overwhelming urge to crawl into his arms and just stay there where nothing can hurt her.

"Take me with you next time you go travelling", she says, her lips lifting into a wry smile because they both know he'd have taken her many times if only Snow would let him.

"You know how your mother feels about that", he tells her and rubs his hand up and down her back, the two of them huddled together in futile conspiracy against her mother that won't ever lead anywhere because Charming loves Snow more than anything else in the world and he recognizes that her trepidation in letting Emma travel with him is not unfounded.

"When I get married she won't be able to stop me", Emma says petulantly and her father chuckles, tilting his head to look at her sideways, his eyes dancing with humour.

"You seem quite determined all of a sudden", he tells her and Emma rolls her eyes at him, her heart squeezing in her chest because his gentle teasing reminds her of Killian and she had sworn she'd stop thinking about him a week ago when she had left him at the lake.

She hadn't had much success in that department.

Her hand closes around the hilt of her sword and she flashes back to the day she had met Killian, remembering the beautiful swords in his shop and realizing that they looked quite similar to hers in style.

"Who made my sword?" She asks abruptly and her father lifts his pale eyebrows, confused by her sudden urgency, but he answers her nonetheless.

"Remember the new blacksmith that opened a shop in village and everybody in the castle was buzzing about a few years ago?"

"The one-handed blacksmith?" Emma asks, her voice squeaky and small, causing Charming to look at her askance.

"His name is Killian Jones, but I guess it can't be helped that people address him as one-handed", Charming says and Emma's fingers tremble on the hilt of her sword.

"You've met him?"

"Of course. I wanted to see for myself if his swords are really that good; his sword is a King's most important possession, much more so than the crown or the sceptre", Charming tells her seriously but Emma is too impatient to waste time now that it seems she might discover how had Killian came to be in the village.

"This is a really good sword", Emma says wistfully and Charming nods, his hand resting on the hilt of his own.

"It is. Most blacksmiths are born into the trade, taking over from their fathers, but Jones seems to have taken a longer, more winding road to acquire his skills."

"How so?" Emma breathes, holding her breath and feeling apprehensive because even though she wants to know everything about Killian's past, she wishes he could've been the one to tell her.

"He used to be a sailor, a Lieutenant in the Royal Navy in one of the southern Kingdoms", Charming says and Emma's heart stutters in her chest for two reasons; one is that the fall from an officer to a blacksmith must've been horribly painful even without his missing hand, and the second being the instant realization that there's hope for them after all.

If he were to become a Lieutenant again, he could court her without any consequences at all.

"Do you know what happened?" She asks after an appropriate pause because she doesn't want to seem too eager.

"He didn't seem very inclined to talk about it, but he did tell me that the ship his brother was captaining was attacked by pirates; Jones' brother died and he lost his hand, which I presume led to him being discharged from the Navy. It doesn't really matter because his skill is incredible even with one hand, so I didn't pry further, just commissioned him to make me a few swords."

"Was he surprised when you asked him to make this one?" She asks, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts and possibilities she can't focus on now, so she stores them all safely to only take out when she's alone again.

"Not that I could tell, but I do think he was under the impression that he was making the sword for your mother, so he made it to fit a Queen", he says and Emma looks down at the sword in her lap, for the first time really taking in all the delicate engravings she'd seen a million times without ever admiring them as much as she should have, because they truly are beautiful.

"Do you think that other King made the right choice when he let him go from the Navy just because he's missing a hand?" She asks softly, knowing that her father is going to think about her questions later and come to the obvious conclusions, but unable to stop herself from asking.

After all, her future actions depend on his answer, and her happiness might as well.

"It's a complicated question, Emma. Somebody being fit for duty depends on a lot of things, not just the physical. He'd probably lost his brother in a traumatic way and that could've factored into the King's decision to relieve him of his duties."

"That's not what I'm asking, dad", Emma says and looks at her father steadily.

"What are you asking, then?"

"Would you let a one-handed man serve on your ship?"

"If he was otherwise able and willing, I would", Charming says and Emma beams at him, then soundly kisses his cheek and jumps to her feet.

"I'm really proud to be your daughter", Emma tells him and walks to the middle of the courtyard, holding her sword up in challenge. "Now let's see if I can beat you this time."

Charming laughs and they go back to sparring, but even though she comes close to winning a few times, she never manages, and even though she'd never admit it, she's glad.

Her father had always been her solid, unbeatable hero and she hopes he always will be.

She'd beaten enough of his guards to know that she's quite good at swordfighting, and it's somehow comforting that she never wins when she spars with her father.


Emma spends a few days contemplating Killian's past and her future, and she comes to the expected conclusion; she can't give up on him and on them without a fight. There is a connection between them, a link that she feels acutely even though their meetings had been few and shorter than she would've wanted, and she feels like she owes it to herself to at least try and see if it could deepen.

If she doesn't, and she ends up married to somebody she doesn't care about, she's always going to regret it, so she plans her escape well and sneaks out of the castle late at, rousing Tornado and saddling him quietly before riding off through the woods.

Finding out where Killian lives proved to be easy because all her maids seem to have a crush on him and it loosens their tongues, allowing her to steer the conversation until they told her that he's got a little cabin at the edge of the forest, a bit removed from the other dwellings in the village.

Emma's maids find it romantic, but she finds it convenient and thanks her lucky starts that his shop isn't his home too, because she had promised never to visit him there again and she'd rather not depend on fate to see him again.

Despite it being late, the light is on in the cabin and Emma approaches the window carefully, taking in the shabby look of it all and realizing she doesn't really care; it's the man inside she longs for, and she can only hope he feels the same.

She had never felt like this, not even with Walsh, and it puts her mind at ease that she's the one pursuing Killian, not the other way around.

Emma presses her face to the window and peers through the opening in the curtains to find Killian sitting in an armchair next to the empty fireplace, his face half in shadow as he thumbs through some kind of book with a wistful look on his handsome face. Judging by his clothes, he still hadn't gone to bed, but both his vest and his shirt are half-way opened and Emma bites her lip, her fingertips tingling with the need to touch him.

When she knocks on the window Killian's head snaps up and he jumps to his feet so swiftly that the book he'd been reading falls off his lap, but he simply steps over it and makes his way to the window, his eyes never leaving Emma's.

"What are you doing?" He asks breathlessly when he opens the window and Emma holds out her hand wordlessly, inviting him to help her inside. "You're out of your mind."

Even as he says it, Killian takes her hand and pulls her closer, then wraps his arm around her waist and easily lifts her off her feet; she's glad she's wearing pants because it would be quite impossible to get in through the window otherwise.

As soon as she's inside Killian releases her completely and she sways a little from the abruptness of it, and then they stand looking at each other wordlessly, close but not quite touching, her body still reeling from his embrace.

"Why are you here, Swan?" He asks, shaking his head at her and lifting his hand to tug the curtains firmly closed behind her.

"You said we'd meet again if it was meant to be", she tells him, suddenly uncertain, her eyes flickering to his naked chest even as she desperately tries to hold them level with his.

Killian quirks an eyebrow and starts buttoning his shirt, his nimble fingers making it look easy even though she doubts it was so at first.

"I did say so, but I hadn't exactly expected you to show up at my window and give the fate a nudge", he says with an amused smile and Emma feels so warm inside, so light because he seems pleased; he hadn't called her lass since before he found out she's a princess.

"I had an interesting talk with my father a few days ago and decided to take my future in my own hands", she says and walks around him to pick up the book that had fallen from his lap when she had intruded on his peaceful evening. "I hadn't really expected you to be up at this hour."

"What would you have done if I wasn't?" He asks and takes the book from her hands before she can open it and peer inside, his scent enveloping her and making it difficult to concentrate on what she'd come here to say.

"I'd broken in and waited for you here", she tells him and glances past his shoulder to the door that must be leading to his bedroom.

His eyes regard her with obvious admiration and she smiles, pleased that she can still surprise him despite the fact that he seems to understand her on a deep, personal level.

"What changed from the last time we've seen each other?"

"I found out what happened to you", she says and bites her tongue at her poor choice of words because he all but flinches away, his jaw locking and his body angling away from hers as if he's trying to put distance between her and his damaged arm.

"I fail to see what that has to do with anything", he tells her and his eyes are suddenly two blocks of ice, regarding her calmly and dispassionately.

"I know you used to be a Lieutenant, and if you were to become one again-"

"I think you should go back to your castle, your Highness", he says, the tone of his voice like a punch in her gut after all the times he'd caressed her with it, and she ducks her head for a moment to compose herself, noticing that his hand is balled into a tight fist by his side.

"Don't be like this", she says and lifts her head again to look at him, boldly meeting his gaze and even taking a step toward him, her fingers curling around his arm.

"I don't appreciate your nosiness, princess", he tells her and pulls his arm away before he walks to the window and pushes it open wide with his stump, his eyes stormy when he turns to her and offers her his hand. "Forget whatever fanciful daydream you've concocted about us because it won't come true. Now out you get."

Emma grits her teeth and feels her cheeks burn in embarrassment, but she holds her head high when she scrambles out without his help, her braid bouncing on her shoulders as she runs away without saying a single word.


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