Emma
"You did it, Swan."
"We did it," she corrected him.
Snow had escaped, and if Emma wasn't mistaken, her father had found her and was following her. He had left the dance over an hour ago to retrieve Abigail's shoes from her room, and there had been no sign of him since. Snow might not have had the ring, but Charming didn't know that; he would follow her anyway.
And when they met…history would be repeated. They would have the chance to fall in love again, and events would play out exactly the same as they had before.
Emma gave silent thanks that she hadn't doomed all of the people she loved because of her thoughtless actions. She had been tense all night, terrified that she might have ruined everything when Snow fell out of the tree. Now, she was able to hope that everything would be okay. She and Hook weren't able to leave yet - the ball had only just started, and it would be far too conspicuous – but once they had, they would be able to return to Henry and the rest of Storybrooke.
Emma inwardly groaned at the thought that they would once again be indebted to Rumpelstiltskin for his help. He had been the reason they had been able to come to the ball, the reason she still had hope in the power of true love to keep the past intact. Hopefully, if the night continued smoothly, he would also be the reason she and Hook were able to escape from the Enchanted Forest.
The Savior can't come this far and not play princess for a day.
His words echoed through Emma's mind. She smiled at the irony; this had been the first time since it had been revealed she was royalty that she hadn't felt as if she were only pretending to be a princess. She was wearing a dress straight out of a fairy tale, and she felt a hint of belonging for one of the first times in her life.
Perhaps she could allow herself one day as a princess after all.
For the first time that night, she relaxed into Hook's arms and began to lose herself in the rhythm of his movements.
Two years ago, if anyone had told her that the villainous pirate Captain Hook would be the first man to ask her to dance, she would have called them crazy. Even once she had met the man, she still wouldn't have believed that he could dance, much less that he was this good at it.
He even seemed to be enjoying himself.
"I believe, love, that the curse you suffer is not two left feet as I had previously supposed, but rather a severe case of distraction." He cocked his head to the side, giving her that damn smirk. "I would apologize, Swan, but I'm afraid my devilishly good looks are not something I can easily get rid of."
"Your love for yourself knows no bounds," she shot back at him with a chuckle.
His blue eyes softened under her gaze. For a moment, she could see the man he used to be, the man he kept buried underneath layers of eyeliner and long leather overcoats.
The way he was looking at her sent a wave of warmth down to the tips of her toes, and she searched desperately for a way to lighten the mood. He hadn't left yet, but she couldn't afford to risk opening herself up to him. If she did, and he betrayed her like Neal had, she wouldn't be able to recover from the heartbreak.
Emma couldn't afford to risk her own heart; she couldn't take the chance that she was wrong about him.
Hook spun her back in towards him effortlessly. "I believe what I'm trying to say, Your Highness, is that you appear to be a natural. You are a wonderful dancer, Princess…and stunning as well. You cut quite the figure in that dress."
Stunning. He thought she was stunning. Her mind raced, searching for something, anything, to say. "If I get to be a princess, does that mean you're my prince?" she blurted out at last.
Dammit. Her face was on fire; she must look like a tomato. She should've gone with a simple "thank you;" that wouldn't have struck anywhere near as close to the truth of what she was feeling.
She was grateful that he was the one by her side. If he, a feared pirate captain, could be this…prince…standing in front of her, then surely she, the insecure thief he was dancing with, could be his princess.
"Aye, love. If agreeing to dress in this ridiculous coat and calling myself a prince are the only things it takes to get you to spend time with me, I'll gladly consent to your terms." He gave her a heartbreaking smile, one that shook her to her very core.
Emma was struck speechless.
She was saved from responding when the main entrance burst open.
It was Regina, and she looked furious.
Royal guards fanned out behind the Evil Queen as she stepped into the room, searching the faces of all of the dancers. The room had frozen; the faces of all the guests were filled with terror at Regina's seething glare.
Finally, the Queen realized that Snow was nowhere to be seen. She began to turn away, and Emma dared to breathe a sigh of relief at last. She dropped Hook's hand, not realizing how tightly she had been squeezing until she let it go.
Suddenly, Regina's eyes alighted on Emma's. She turned to the Captain of the Guard, whispering something in his ear and pointing a finger at the princess in the red dress. He nodded in understanding, and spoke two words that shook Emma to her core.
"Get her."
The royal guard began its march, shoving people out of the way. They were coming directly towards her and Hook. Somebody must have seen them helping Snow escape and told Regina; there was no other way they could have been found out.
"Hook, go away. Save yourself. I can't outrun them with the dress, but you can. Promise me that you'll get out of here and find your way back to Storybrooke. Take care of Henry for me, and tell him I love him. Promise me."
Hook was silent.
"Killian, please, please, do this for me. I need to know somebody will be there for Henry." She was begging now, but at last her words elicited a nod.
She turned away, pushed him back into the crowd, and stood to embrace her fate.
Alone.
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