Emma cut quite the figure, dancing with her lad, the white ballgown in stark contrast to his black tux. Soft music played as Henry led his mother—a bit stiffly, but with sure feet—across the dance floor. She said something too low to hear and he laughed, some of the tension in his shoulder easing.

Her smile was infectious, and though Killian was always quite certain he could not get any happier, every time he caught sight of that grin his joy grew. His heart fought to burst from his chest just watching them. His family.

He had a family.

The man he had been a hundred years ago would have laughed at the idea.

But that man could never have imagined that a woman like Emma existed.

Nor that a woman like Emma would consent to be his wife.

And that man most certainly would scoff at the notion that he could ever walk a hero's path.

"They make quite the pair, don't they?" Snow appeared at his elbow, her cheeks rounded and her nose scrunched by a wide smile.

Killian nodded. He wasn't familiar with this tradition of parent and child dance during the nuptials. Though, as there hadn't been much marrying going on aboard his ship, he couldn't claim to be an expert on the subject, not even in his own realm. He had attended two weddings in his time at the naval academy. One a stiff affair celebrating the union of a commanding officer. The other a rather jovial gathering for a fellow sailor that took place just before his graduation. Neither were anything like the event Snow had arranged for her daughter.

"Thank you for agreeing to this," she continued, "I know it can't be easy, watching them with your own mother gone. It wasn't easy for me."

"It was important to them" he said with a nod at the pair, "even if they wouldn't say so."

"Still…no one would have blamed you if you said it was too painful." She rested a hand on his arm, her smile wistful. Sometimes it was easy to forget that Snow was an orphan too, as bereft of family as he had been before she met David.

Granny—who possessed a surprisingly soft side when she put her mind to it—picked up the microphone then and opened the floor to any other "princes" and their mothers. A handful of couples, from Aurora with the toddling Philip Jr. to an elderly mother and her middle-aged son, joined Emma and Henry out on the dance floor.

To his surprise, Snow did not retrieve her son. Instead, she slipped her hand around Killian's elbow and gave a gentle tug.

"May I?" she asked.

"What about the young prince?" Killian asked.

"Well, for one thing, he's konked out on his father's shoulder at the moment, so you don't have to worry about him feeling left out," she said, leading him effortlessly onto the dance floor. She took his hook in one hand, placed his hand on her shoulder with the other, and raised an eyebrow. She nodded as Killian wove them into the flow of the dance automatically. "For another, he is two and I will get many, many chances to dance with my son. You, however, only get one wedding, Killian. So while I may not be your mother, I still care about you. That's good enough for me."

Killian swallowed several times before he croaked out a hoarse, "Aye." He cleared his throat. "You're sure we won't offend?"

"The only people whose opinions matter are right there," Snow said with a nod in Emma and Henry's direction. "And you know they don't mind."

Killian could not argue with that, not when confronted with his wife's crinkle-eyed smile as they passed each other.

"Besides," Snow said, hushing her voice and leaning close. "If we were in the Enchanted Forest, I'd be queen and no one argues with the queen."

Killian snorted.

"Except the king," Snow amended, her eyes cutting over to where David stood watching their daughter. "He was never afraid to argue with me."

"Was?" Killian prodded. "I'd say he still isn't."

Something in Snow's eyes melted, as though that was the height of romance. "No, he isn't."

"Mind if I cut in?"

Snow ceded her place without argument, patting Emma's shoulder as she retreated.

Years of training kept Killian's feet moving and he was certainly glad of it after the unexpected moments of the last few minutes.

"Where is Henry?"

"I wanted him to get to dance with both his moms," Emma said, nodding behind him.

At their next turn, Killian caught a glance of Regina smiling fondly at her son. He once again bore the severe concentration of someone determined to carry a dance off perfectly. Regina leaned in, whispering something that caused him to stumble a few steps and a look of shock on his face. Then he grinned, shooting back a quip as he fell into step again.

Killian turned away. "Quite magnanimous of you, darling, to share your moment."

Emma shook her head. "It's his moment, not mine. For the next minute at least."

"And yet here you are, dancing with me…"

"Working out quite well for me, isn't it?" Her smiled widened.

Killian hadn't known one person could smile so much until today.

The music played on softly and they danced. At some point, they shifted into something that Emma called slow dancing, though how anyone could call swaying side to side dancing, Killian didn't know. He also couldn't bring himself to care. Not with her arms around him and his around her and her head leaned against his shoulder.

"I'm glad we did this," she said softly.

"So am I, love."