16 years old

"Do I have to have this ball?" Emma asked petulantly.

"This must be the millionth time you've asked, and the answer hasn't changed," her mother scolded, "and don't you roll your eyes at me," she continued before Emma even had the chance to roll her eyes. "This is all because your father didn't want me throwing balls for you when you were younger. He poisoned you against them!"

"That's a little dramatic, don't you think," Emma deadpanned. "It would be so much better with just you, me, Dad, and Killian," she blushed as she said his name.

Dammit! she thought. Her feelings for him had slowly changed and developed, growing into something more than friendship. If she was honest with herself, things hadn't been the same for her ever since that kiss when they were 12. Now she couldn't even say his name without blushing apparently.

Snow looked at her daughter knowingly, "Killian will be there at the ball too, it is his birthday as well; with all the other suitors though, you'll just have to make sure to save a dance for Killian," she put added emphasis on his name.

Emma blushed even more, "Stop it, mom! And you know I despise dancing."

Emma hadn't really taken to dancing, sure she'd had to take lessons as part of her studies, but she'd never developed the knack. It was one of the skills she knew Killian would always best her at. She found archery, riding and sword fighting much more to her liking. However, she now found herself in the odd position of not being able to perform an acceptable waltz, even if she wanted to.

"Oh Emma, it's okay sweetie, you've been around him for years, it's only natural to develop stronger feelings for someone you get along with so well," Snow said in what she hoped was a helpful tone.

The night of the ball she walked down the grand staircase escorted by her proud father. All eyes were focused on her and she hated the attention. There was only one person she wished to receive attention from.

She was wearing a purple gown with a tight fitting bodice and a flowing skirt.

In his heart he knew he'd never seen anything more beautiful. And royal, his treacherous mind added.

When she got to the bottom of the staircase she spotted him, her nerves calming immediately at the very sight of her best friend. He had cleaned up nicely, she thought, then realized that was an understatement, he really looked every part the dashing and debonair gentleman. After being announced, she made her way through the crowd, headed in Killian's direction.

Before she could make it to him, she was cut off by Prince Neal, still ever the nincompoop, in her humble opinion.

"Happy Birthday Princess Emma, you look beautiful," he complimented, giving a bow, "might I have the pleasure of a dance this evening?"

"Ummm, I'm not really...fond of dancing" Emma answered, rather than admitting that she was lacking in this skill.

"Then how about the pleasure of your company," he amended holding his arm aloft for her to loop hers through.

Her eyes darted around looking for Killian, where was he when she needed him? Neal took her hand and laced it through his arm without waiting for her acceptance, then started walking toward the parapet with Emma in tow.

As they were walking she finally spotted Killian, and tried to give him a look imploring him to come get her.

He saw them headed out toward the balcony, but made no move to follow. The sooner you realize that Emma will never be yours, the better, his inner monologue heckled him. What was the harm in walking out to catch a breath of fresh air though?

When they reached the balcony Neal faced her, "Princess, I think you know how important my kingdom is to yours-"

"As is ours to you," she interrupted, narrowing her eyes at him. Just what is he playing at? she wondered.

"Yes," he continued, "as such, I think we should seriously consider allying our kingdoms through marriage. Imagine how powerful we could be together..."

Emma's mouth dropped open at the word marriage. She didn't hear much after that, the blood rushing in her ears completely drowned out Neal's words. It was an absolutely asinine idea; absurd, ridiculous, preposterous, abhorrent, her mind rambled off all manner of words describing Neal's decidedly stupid idea.

"Emma...Emma, are you listening to me?" Neal asked, annoyance coming through in his tone.

"Sorry-" she started in a sarcastic tone.

"No need to apologize," he cut her off.

"Oh no, you misunderstand my apology, I'm sorry, but there is no way in hell I'm marrying you. Not for our kingdoms, not for an alliance, not for power, and most of all, because I have no feelings for you. Why would you even want to marry me? It's not like we enjoy each other's company."

"What does enjoying each other have to do with anything? People in our positions don't get to marry for love. Feelings of respect and contentedness are the most we can hope for," he chuckled.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she started to raise her voice, "people like 'us'?"

"People in positions of power, sweetheart," his tone dripped with condescension, "you're so naive, I forget you're still a child."

She wanted nothing more than to yell and scream at him like the child he was accusing her of being. "You have no idea what you're talking about Neal! I may be a child, but you're a jaded, power hungry, fool. I will marry for love, you watch and see," Emma seethed.

"Who is going to love a princess that throws fits, doesn't want what's best for her kingdom, and won't dance."

"That's enough!" Killian intervened, walking to Emma's side.

"If it isn't the servant boy… still hanging around I see," Neal sneered.

"Whatever your 'position' Neal, Killian will always be a better man than you," Emma taunted.

"What do you see in him?" Neal asked incredulously, "he has absolutely nothing to offer you."

"I don't need anything! Least of all from you," Emma shouted.

"I've had enough of this shit," Neal muttered, "good riddance to the both of you," he added as he stalked off back to the ballroom.

"I'm sorry-" they both started in unison.

"Why are you apologizing Killian?"

"I'm sorry that you had to deal with that wanker for even one minute longer than necessary. I saw you walking away with him, and I let myself believe you'd be better off with someone of the same status…" he cut himself off, not wanting to further insinuate his feelings into the situation.

"It's not your fault Neal is still the same asshole he was when we were kids. I'm sorry you have to put up with his insults every time we have to see him."

She turned to look out over the gardens of the palace. It was a breathtaking sight this evening, lit softly by paper lanterns. She looked back to Killian's profile, now was her moment. She'd wanted to tell him for so long that... that what? What do I feel? Is it love? Do I even know what love is? All these thoughts were swirling around in her mind, when he looked back to her. She was lost then, under the penetrating gaze of his dazzling blue eyes.

"What did you mean I'd be better off with someone of my own status? Better off than what?" she questioned him quietly.

"Ummm, better off than spending the evening socializing with the servant boy, of course," he laughed self deprecatingly.

"Killian Jones, that's not even funny," she scolded, "you are my best friend, and I- I want to tell you something…"

"Tell me what, love?" he prompted, curiosity and hope intermingled in his expression.

There was that pet name again, she would never tire of him calling her love. "I...want...to thank you, for always being there when I need you," she stammered, hesitancy and doubt clear in her lowered voice.

She saw a flick of disappointment in his expression, which was gone in an instant and replaced with one of his winning smiles and a raised eyebrow, "Course, love, it's all in a day's work for a best friend."

Goddammit Emma, what is wrong with you, she mentally scolded herself. She tried to think of a way to recover, when he interrupted her frenzied thought process.

"I'm quite tired Emma, I think I'm going to turn in early. Happy Birthday, lass," he wished her, then leaned in to give her a chaste kiss on the cheek, and a hug. She wanted to stay wrapped in the cocoon of his arms, but propriety had him pulling away much too quickly.

"Happy Birthday," she murmured to him trying to hide her disappointment, "good night, Killian."

"Good night, Princess."

It wasn't lost on her that it wasn't Emma, or love, it was back to Princess. She felt a pang of sadness and suddenly she was ready for bed as well.

Emma tossed and turned that night. Disappointed in herself for chickening out, sad that Killian left the party so early, and irritated with Neal, she resolved to remedy the only part of this that she could control. Tomorrow, she told herself, before falling into a restless sleep.

She crept quietly into the stable, she wanted to get out for an early morning ride before her parents made her take Killian, her unspoken protector, with her. She'd been on edge since the ball two months earlier, and if she were truthful with herself she knew why. She hadn't had the nerve to talk with Killian about her feelings; each night she'd promised herself that she'd do it the next day, and each day she would chicken out again.

These feelings of fear, and possibly unrequited whatever it was were giving her a complex. Just as she was about to let herself drown in thoughts of Killian and her locked away feelings for him, she tripped and landed with a thud.

"Goddammit," she cursed louder than she meant to. As she rolled over to her back, a loud groan made her jump.

"Good morning, love," came the thickly accented voice of a supremely hungover Killian Jones.

"What the hell, Jones! Did you get into the rum again?" she seethed. Feeling angry at him for her lack of courage, she laid into him, "Why do you keep doing this to yourself, when are you going to start taking care yourself, do something with your life, be something –"

"Didn't know you cared so much, Swan," he cut her off.

"I don't," was all she could come up with, yes, a blatant lie was all she could come up with.

"As I thought," he accused, "if not for you, then for whom should I take care of myself?"

"Do it for yourself, do it for the memory of your mo-," the color drained from her face as she realized what day it was. It'd been ten years to the day since his mother had passed away.

She took a moment to collect herself, thinking of a way to continue. What a colossal asshole she was being. "You're a good man you just need to see it for yourself," she reasoned, not sure if she could, or if he could address this anniversary of sorts.

"Ride with me?" she asked.

Even though he was hungover and wallowing in the anniversary of his mother's death, he couldn't deny his Emmaswan. Never could, not since they were six and she had convinced him to come back to the castle to be by his mother's side.

"As you wish," was all he said.

After a brisk ride through the forest, they came upon their field of middlemist. They dismounted their horses and sat down. He thought it might be one of the most beautiful sights in all the land to see his Swan among this field of flowers, as if she were their Goddess.

She laid down, and he followed suit lying down beside her. Resting there in companionable silence, she could only think of how badly she wanted to tell him how she felt for him. One part of her brain was telling her to just get it over with, the other part was screaming what if he doesn't feel the same? It was getting loud in her head! Ignoring her inner turmoil altogether she propped herself up on her elbow to face him and went with, "What are you thinking about?"

"About the night of your birthday."

"Our birthday," she corrected, "what about it?"

"How beautiful you looked in your ball gown, and what a sod I was for not asking you to dance."

"What does it matter, I don't dance well anyhow," she supplied, trying to give him an out. This Killian, with declarations of beauty and missed opportunities was one she was unfamiliar with.

"Nonsense, and I still should've asked you. I should've done a lot that night, and now it's too late."

"Killian what is going on, you're talking like you're dying," her eyes widened, partially in embarrassment over her somewhat thoughtless choice of words, and somewhat over her panic that he might say he was dying. He didn't answer her, looking thoughtfully up at the fluffy clouds throughout the sky. "You're not dying are you?"

"Nothing quite so grim I assure you," he replied.

"Then what is it too late for?"

"I'm joining your father's Navy, Swan, to make something of myself, as you so eloquently put it," he paused to gauge her reaction, "and I should've told you how I feel about you years ago."

She inhaled sharply at his words. While not a confession of undying love, it gave her hope that she might not be the only one. "How do you feel about me?" she asked breathlessly.

He leaned up on his elbow, mirroring her position and gazed into her eyes willing her to see how he felt. The words scared him, how could he expect they wouldn't scare her. He extended his hand out and placed it on her cheek, his thumb caressing her chin. She stared back into his eyes and waited to see what he would do next. He leaned in toward her until he could feel her soft puffs of breath over his face. He waited there patiently, wanting her to make the choice to meet him in the middle. When her lips joined his it was like a live wire, his whole body was awake and alive like never before. She brought her hand to his neck and threaded it up through his hair.

She let out a small gasp when she felt his hand at her waist, her eyes flew open, (wait, when had she closed them?) at the foreign contact. They had held hands many times, and hugged, but this was different. This was much more intimate, he'd never touched her so gently. Emma deepened the kiss when she traced the contour of his lips with her tongue. She felt his hand clamp down on her waist, it was a wonderful feeling. His tongue joined hers, and she felt as though she may float away in bliss. His hand smoothed its way up her lean torso till his thumb barely rested on the soft undercurve of her breast. He touched his forehead to her's "Emma –,"

A rather loud clearing of a throat interrupted their private moment, they pulled apart as if electrocuted, looking at the offending party wide eyed. The King and Queen stared back at the young lovebirds, at least in Snow's mind. David however wasn't fond of his baby girl being held and kissed. "You two get back to the castle, you missed breakfast," he commanded, too flustered to know what to really say, "I'll deal with you both later."

Snow just rolled her eyes at that, "It wasn't that long ago that you and I were sneaking away to-"

David held up his hand in his wife's direction, "Don't remind me! That's my baby girl you're comparing us with."

They watched quietly as Killian and Emma walked back to their horses and started back toward the castle.

When Killian and Emma arrived back at the stables, they both lead their horses inside. Removing saddles and brushing manes, they worked in relative silence for a bit.

"I'm leaving tomorrow-"

"Tomorrow!" she cut him off mid sentence.

"Aye, lass, and I don't know how long your father will see fit to have me away for after that. Will you see me off?"

"Of course I'll be there," she struggled to get the words out around the lump in her throat. She wanted to ask him her question from before they were interrupted , she desperately wanted to hear how he felt about her. His brilliant smile told her just how important it was to him that she be there. Without hearing the words though she could only hope she had an inkling as to how he felt.

Early the next morning she was pierside to see him off, even as the horizon was there to meet the rising sun. He sauntered up in his freshly donned naval uniform, looking as handsome as she'd ever seen. Her heart felt like it was trying to beat it's way out of her chest.

"You came," he spoke with glee in his voice.

"Did you doubt I would?" she questioned.

"I'd hoped, but I didn't want to presume you'd be here," he smiled.

She longed to tell him exactly how she felt, but she wasn't fool enough to open that door with him leaving for an undisclosed amount of time. That wouldn't be fair to either of them.

Instead she went with a truth that was safe, "I hope you get to see so many amazing things, and I hope adventure finds you. I wish I could go too," she paused to look up at him, "I'm going to miss you so much, Killian," the tears began to well in her eyes, "don't forget about me," a broken sob escaped her, and she threw her arms around his neck to hug him tightly.

"Swan, there's not a day will go by, I won't think of you." It was a simple statement, punctuated by his arms circling her waist to reciprocate her hug.

"Good," was all she said back.