I apologize for the delay in this chapter. I got caught up writing my secret santa fic and neglected this. I hope everyone is enjoying family, friends, presents, and love no matter what you do or don't celebrate this time of year. My love to all, especially those who have left such wonderful reviews and feedback.

Emma had for years wondered what it might be like to be one of the sentry's, perched on the guard stands of stone with bow and arrow at the ready. The thought had seemed quite appealing at times, though she realized it was typically a life of monotony and boredom similar to her own life of court. Sitting there with Regina and listening to the Blue Fairy speak of the intricacies of spells and the moral obligations that came with certain controlling techniques, Emma again wished that she might have been born to a simpler life than that of a princess.

Her eyes wandered, snapping back at the sound of the fairy's impatience or Regina's less subtle reprimand. "It's not as simple as just perfecting the snap of your wrist or the position of your fingers," Regina told her after another failed attempt. "You must truly want to do this. You must find whatever passion you have inside you and direct it toward this. Magic is not something we do without feeling."

Frustration did not even begin to describe what the Princess was feeling, her forehead wrinkled in despair over not yet being able to perform the simple task before her. She waved her hand again, but nothing came of the attempt. "I…"

"Do it again," Regina said in a dull tone. "We're not going to leave until you can do this."

"Maybe if I didn't have you chattering in my ear and the Blue Fairy flying around my head, I could concentrate," Emma said petulantly. "It's too much."

"You've always got excuses," Regina countered. "You're too tired. The weather isn't good. It's too hot. It's too cold. Do you think that when the time comes to confront the Dark One that you'll be in a place with no distractions? He'll be lobbing fire at your head and feet and turning your loved ones into toads. You don't get the perfect situation, Princess."

The Blue Fairy reprimanded the former queen, her haughty nature again shining. However, Regina seemed reluctant to relent.

Emma bit at the corner of her mouth, eyes closing in on the object in front of her. She just barely moved her hand and it worked, the toy block splintering apart as though chopped with an invisible axe. Without a smile of triumph that usually accompanied these moments, Emma threw her hands up in the air and walked a few steps backwards. "I'm done for the day. I have to be fitted for the ball."

The fairy dispensed of herself as normal, promising that she should be back soon for more lessons. However, Regina looked to the late afternoon sky. "They'll be back soon. Perhaps that will better your mood. I know that my mood brightens when I am near Robin, as your mother's does when David is near. So it is not hard to fathom that you might be missing that suitor of yours."

Furrowing her brow a bit more, the Princess stopped in her retreat to look at the woman she might have called grandmother if the circumstances had been more hospitable. She was only a few years older than her mother, still regally beautiful with the carriage and stature of a true queen. "I…"

"Come now," Regina said, ignoring the way Emma's feigned innocence sounded. "We both know that you and the pirate practically pine for each other. He's not truly a fearsome man when you show up in the room. More of a smitten sailor seeing the shore for the first time in months."

Emma's cheeks were practically red as fire as she spoke in a flustered way about how she did not know what Regina was talking about. Killian was just there as a help to her and Elsa, having brought Elsa to the kingdom and both of them safely to the castle. "He's a kind man," she managed to say in the end.

"I'm sure you think so," Regina smirked. "Just know that you aren't truly fooling anyone. Anyone with eyes anyway."

Emma's mouth dropped open and then shut again as she tried to think of what to say. "He's been a good friend to me."

"Yes, well, perhaps we should consider his influence on you. It seems to have helped in some ways to have him about you. Your demeanor and confidence are certainly factors in this whole thing."

"I can do this on my own," Emma said determinedly, her jaw lifting with her words. "I don't need to be encouraged."

"Perhaps not, but it doesn't hurt. And pirate or not, he seems to be just the type to do that for you. And other than your parents, he is assembling quite a group of admirers. From the staff who moon over him as love sick fools to my Henry and Roland. They won't quit talking about this man and his sailing adventures. I'm assured that young Leo is the same way. Not surprising really. There is something intoxicating about a danger that does speak to youth."

"I should go," Emma said, dropping her folded arms as she turned to leave.

"We all have magic," Regina called after her. "Not all of that comes in the form of spells and illusion. Some people are born leaders. That is their magic. Others are talented in the arts. And still others are loyal and kind, blending into the background and supporting us when we don't even realize they are there. Your Captain is a born leader, Emma. He's been leading that crew of his. And I see how he stands beside you and makes you stronger. Just don't forget, Princess, that he is a pirate underneath all that. And don't be misguided enough to think that you can change that."

"He wasn't always," Emma said softly. "He wasn't always a pirate. Just as your husband has not always been a thief."

"Yes, sometimes stories are exceptions not rules. I don't know the pirate's heart, but I see his desire for you. I only caution you that while these feelings and emotions that are stirring between the two of you are wonderfully heady and strong, there is a practical side to it. You will both have to make choices. That's true. Both must sacrifice. But one always sacrifices more than the other, Emma. One will always give up more and accept more responsibility to make things work."

Wordlessly, Emma scampered away from the woman whose words seemed to remind her of just why she should not hope for more with Killian. Though they had not spoken of it, he was sacrificing for her now. He was the one who was pushing her to become what she needed to be to defeat the Dark One. And had she done anything of the kind for him?

***AAA***

"We should stop to rest," David announced just a bit from the gate to the castle grounds. "I dare say we all need the break."

Robin agreed readily, dismounting his horse and heading in the direction of the spring that they had been following for some time. Cupping his hand, he drank a bit of the water before turning his head back to Killian. "Could you use some, mate?"

"I think I'm well enough without it," Killian answered. His handless arm was resting snug against his side, the pain of the blowback still lingering. He was loathe to mention it, but the very thought of dismounting seemed a painful task that he would prefer not to do with the eyes of the King and the reformed thief watching him. "We are close enough now that we should make it back for the evening meal."

Robin agreed, but before he could begin his short walk back to them, the men spotted a flock of quail on the other side of the water. Springing into action with the agility of a fox, Robin hoisted his quiver and bow and was off in search of a treat for his wife.

David cleared his throat, his eyes still inspecting the nondescript leather of the harness and saddle. "For a pirate you don't seem to like being the center of attention. Most pirates I have met have been boastful and proud of their conquests and treasures."

Killian considered that for a moment, knowing that the King was not always direct in his questions. "I would hazard to say that many of the pirates you met were that way. That probably led to the meeting. Arrogance and pride in such things often leads a man to his death either by the sword or by the hanging. I don't relish the thought of either until I get what I have been after."

"Which is?"

"The Dark One's head on a plate," Killian said, his soft tone belying the sinister nature of his words.

"I suppose you do have reason for your lust for vengeance," the King said, looking toward the hook that seemed to define the man in the eyes of so many. "However, I would also say that you have adjusted to the impediment and made it a bit of an asset."

The grimace on Killian's face, as he lifted the hook into view as if he had not seen it, grew from the pressure it placed upon his ribs. "I have had many years to grow accustomed to it."

"Even that first night here," David continued, "we weren't that hospitable with the food we served. Though the menu was already planned and it was not intentional, it could not have been easy for you. Yet there was nary a complaint heard. I should think most men would have complained quite loudly at being almost starved while others ate. Either you have the decorum of a saint or you were set about impressing my daughter."

There it was, Killian thought. David was moving the conversation back to the princess and her ability to see the best in people. "It was your daughter who prevented me from letting the food go to waste," he said, giving a brief account of Emma's covert assistance. "She is a remarkable woman."

While David nodded in agreement, there was a sad resignation to that statement. "Hard to view her as anything but my daughter," he mumbled, pulling himself up to mount again. "We should proceed. Robin has undoubtedly procured dinner for Regina. You see, Captain, the process of impressing our royal women is an unending one."

***AAA***

"I think you have several that might do nicely," Snow said as a few of the maids held up the more formal gowns in Emma's wardrobe. "Something less formfitting might be nice for the occasion." Emma knew what her mother was censoring. A less formfitting dress would ease her movements, making it safer to face down the Dark One.

Emma merely nodded, still a bit moody from the magic lessons and less than enthused to be closing in on the ultimate goal of all of her training. When her mother asked why she did not seem to care about her attire for what was being billed by the town folk as the premier social event of the spring, Emma told her as much.

"We're luring the Dark One to this ball," she said, frowning in such a way that her lips protruded petulantly. "That man can probably destroy the lot of us with a wave of his hand. Does my dress color really matter that much?"

"We're trying to make a show of this," her mother reminded her. "Your dress shouldn't clash with Elsa's since she is the guest of honor. She typically dresses in shades of blue or purple. Is that what she is planning?" Snow was a strategic fighter, a true warrior of spirit, but she had been raised a crown princess and loved the pomp and circumstance of events.

"Red," Emma said, brushing her hand over the stack of gowns there in the room. "I will wear red. It won't clash with Elsa. And Killian will be wearing black." She realized only a moment later that she had said his name. Shocked, she took a step backwards and waited on her mother's lecture.

"I believe he might just at that," the Queen said. "He does seem to appreciate those darker tones." The dark haired woman spread a hand toward the other chair, waiting expectantly as her daughter reluctantly sat. "Now then. What is the matter? You are acting as if I have forced you into some sort of servitude. You are being petulant."

Worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, Emma let the mood she was denying settle over her. "I suppose I am being quite difficult," she admitted. "Elsa says I'm being prickly."

"Elsa's always been one to turn a phrase."

Just the night before Emma had felt so light and free at the knowledge that Killian knew of her indiscretions and her child who had been born without the benefit of married parents. She had almost rejoiced in the lack of secrets and moments of mystery and hidden facts. However, she felt heavier now as she sat there. "You and Papa don't really like Killian, do you?"

There was something comforting and lovely about a daughter confiding her thoughts upon her mother. Snow had not had such moments with her own mother, as the woman's death had preceded the time when the current queen even knew her husband. "I suppose your father and I do have a few qualms about his pirating ways, dear. He's not exactly as we would have imagined or pictured for you."

"He's more than that," Emma noted with a slight waver to her voice. "He's very kind and attentive. He…he did so much to assist me when I was boarding at Granny's."

The tinge of pink on her daughter's face told Snow that this man's kindness extended beyond the horse or the wagon. She also knew that her daughter was scared of this. "Perhaps we just don't know him as you do. If he has earned your admiration, he can't be all bad."

"I didn't mean to have feelings for him," Emma protested. "I never meant for that at all. I don't wish to disappoint you or Papa."

The regal expression dropped as Snow watched Emma practically dissolve into tears at the thought of disappointment for her parents. "Emma, you must stop thinking that. Your father and I love you. We don't see you as you seem to think we do. You are beautiful, strong, smart, and a lovely person. Even if you weren't my daughter, I should wish that you were my friend and confidant. And your feelings for the Captain don't change the fact that we will always love and support your decisions."

"My feelings…"

"Yes, your feelings. Your father and I can see that they must run quite deep for you. And whether they are misguided or not is not for us to decide. You must choose that yourself, Emma."

The birds outside were just beginning their evening song, strong and loud against the leaded window panes. "I've been wrong before," Emma admitted sadly. "About Baelfire. I thought he was my true love. But he disappeared. He left me here alone."

"We don't always know the reasons for such things. Perhaps he has some reason that we do not understand. Either way, his love for you and yours for him was true enough for the time you were together. And the loss of it should not mean that your life is over and the possibility of love is gone from your life. You deserve a happy ending, Emma. And that must begin with the hope that it exists for you."

As a child Emma had crawled into bed with her mother on the nights when David had been off with his soldiers. Her mother would weave tales about being a bandit and finding true love with a prince. She would always tell her daughter of a belief in fate and that hope was the one and only tenant that had kept her strong when life appeared to be conspiring against her. While a bit awkward, Emma had to admit that this was something she had missed with her mother.

"I like this," she admitted. "It's been a long time since we have had this."

"Yes, it has," the Queen echoed. "Emma, I hope you know that no matter what you decide to do in your life that your father and I do support you. And if this pirate is the man you love, I should hope that you give us the opportunity to know him too."

"He's a bit like Papa," Emma said, her shoulders and posture relaxing as she spoke. "He's brave a determined. He makes me laugh and smile."

"And you him?"

"I hope so. I truly hope so."

The Queen stood from her seat and began to shift through some of the thick fabric before her. She seemed to be doing a silent inventory of it, her nose crinkling at some of the more distasteful selections. "I don't know that I can offer any insight into the Captain's psyche, but I do recognize a few telltale signs. The way he looks upon you when your attention is diverted and the way he lights up when he speaks of you are both good signs of his interest. And his presence here, as well as the map would indicate that he is not merely admiring your beauty."

"Elsa offered to pay him for couriering her here to the shores of Mist Haven," Emma confided. "He refused, saying that he was doing it as a favor to me."

"Another very hopeful sign," her mother said, lips turning upward. "I should think that you would want to look your best for him. He will be certainly alert and aware of you at the ball, no matter the reason for its occurrence."

Emma stood to join her mother, her own fingers running over the rich fabrics. "I wouldn't put too much thought into it," she said softly. "He seems to think it impossible that a man such as himself might gain my affections. He has said a few times now that he does not find himself worthy and that he does not wish to cause problems with you, Papa, or the kingdom."

"He sounds as though he is a smart man to care so much about making your life easier," Snow said knowingly. "But you disagree about his worthiness? You do not find him lacking in breeding and station?"

"He was a naval officer and…And none of the titles mean as much to me. Baelfire was not of noble blood either. I have never…"

"You have never set much stock in it," her mother finished for her. "You get that from your father. He was not born of nobility and has never truly seen its purpose."

***AAA***

Snow and Emma spent a good hour going through dresses and discussing what they would both be wearing to the event, sharing their ideas with Elsa who readily lent her own tastes. It felt as if it was Emma's first chance to go to such an affair all over again as the three women tried desperately to forget talk of magic and daggers for something lighter. It was nearly dark when one of the attendants came to alert Snow that her husband and the others had returned. Sharing a sly look with her daughter, she linked her arms with both blonde women and suggested that they meet the men downstairs.

"You will give her another chance?" Snow asked Elsa as they descended the stairs. "I know her methods are not conventionally warm and fuzzy, but she is powerful. You…"

"I could stand to learn a few things from her," the other Queen said with some reluctance. Looking over Snow's head, she winked at Emma. "I suppose I could learn from her. Though I don't know that it is good to combine fire and ice."

"Speaking of ice," Snow continued, ignoring the obvious slight. "I was thinking that it is not good that we have kept the boys locked up within the walls of the castle and garden. Do you think it possible that you might make a bit of a winter wonderland for them? Leo does adore skating and I think Roland and Henry might too."

Emma's eyes brightened at the suggestion. "Oh Elsa! That would be so much fun. Don't you remember right after your sister's birthday party? We had races and those two young men from that awful kingdom couldn't keep up with us."

Smiling her small grin of approval, Elsa gave a curt nod of her head. "Perhaps that should be your lesson tomorrow, Emma. You can practice your ice magic."

"You'll surely be a better teacher than Regina," Emma answered bitterly. "I doubt you will be insulting."

"I also tend to dress my age," Elsa added, looking none too chagrinned over the insult.

"Girls, please," Snow mandated from her spot between them. "Regina means well."

There might have been more argument had David, Killian, and Robin not entered the hall at that point. Elsa greeted them with a tip of her head, but Emma could not miss the grimace on Killian's features. His handless arm was folded next to his side and each step and slight movement made his skin grow paler and the lines about his mouth deepen. She gave a courtesy bow to her father before rushing to the pirate's side.

"Is he alright?" she demanded, receiving no answer before she turned to face him. "Are you injured?"

"A bit sore is all," he said, attempting to cover his fate with a grin. "Fell on my back such that I'll be feeling it tomorrow."

Her frown was even more pronounced than his as Robin explained the shielding spell and the way that it sent Killian reeling. David was unusually quiet, pulling his wife into his own side for a hug and then standing back as his daughter fretted. "Magic did this?" she asked incredulously. "You were struck by magic and you weren't going to tell me?"

"No, love, I was injured by the fall not the magic. And I shall be fine, not to worry."

"I've seen worse injuries from men falling from horses," Robin agreed, removing his riding gloves and handing off the quail he had procured to the scullery maid who stood there to collect it. "He'll need some rest, but should be better in a few days' time."

"No need to worry, lass," Killian agreed, drawing in a sharp breath when a stinging sensation hit from a sudden movement. "I will be right as rain before the ball."

"Speaking of the ball," Emma's mother said a bit loudly. "I have found what you should wear David. I believe that Regina has chosen something for Robin as well." She ushered the two men from the room, smiling to herself when she heard Elsa mention looking for a spot for the surprise they were cooking up for the boys.

Killian's laugh was not as rich with his injury, but he managed a bit of mirth at the woman's not so covert way of leaving her daughter alone with him. "And what of you, Emma? Did you select a tunic for me or am I to be left to my own devices?"

"That is something wives do for their husbands," she admonished. "Besides, I thought you would prefer to choose your own."

His expression suddenly turned grim with an unspoken issue. "I would not wish to embarrass you with the wrong choice, Emma. And I should think you might wish to know its color."

"It sounds as though you have not picked your attire as of yet so I'll tell you of mine. I will be wearing red." Her smile depicted an ease that did not agree with the turmoil she felt when looking upon his pained expression. "Let's see about healing you first. Off with your jacket."

Though suspicious and a bit amused by her words, he attempted to shrug out of jacket. However, the pain from his left flank seared through him, his face contorting with the force of it. "I'm afraid that is a bit much to ask of me at the moment."

"I could send for Doc," she said, her hand reaching up with fingers trailing along his jaw. "He's not a real medical person, but he's as close as we have at hand. I could see if someone…"

"Love, I'm fine. It smarts a bit, but there is no irreparable harm. I assure you." He tugged at his coat again, ignoring the tearing feeling and allowing it to limply fall. He wasn't sure if his gasp was from the effort or from her gently lifting his left arm and running a hand along the seam of his shirt.

"They could be broken," she said, "bruised at least."

"Aye, that was my own diagnosis as well."

She did not lift her eyes to meet his, instead staring intently at the wounded area. Her hand seemed to float above it, hovering with warm tendrils of heat emanating from her skin. "Regina has been training me. One of the lessons today was about destroying something and then putting it back together. I gather that the latter of that is healing. I could try." His silence spoke volumes to her as she blew out a puff of air to send an errant curl away from her eyes. "I understand if you'd rather I didn't. You have no reason to trust me or my ability to do this."

He faltered in that moment of silence, cursing himself for having added to her doubt. "Of course I trust you, love," he said with genuine affection. "No one but you."

Without hesitation, she closed her eyes, trying, as Regina had instructed, focusing on the idea of his ribs melding together into a strong bond. Her fingers wiggled with the energy coursing through them, a whitish glow shooting out from her hand and burning her still closed eyes. She could not see his eyes, but they were locked on her face, admiring the way she took this so seriously. Just as abruptly as the light had shone, it disappeared. "Better?"

"Perfect, love," he said lifting his own hand to run along the spot that had been so painful. "Amazing."

"I'm glad that I did it correctly," she admitted shyly. "I wouldn't want to break you a part into pieces as I did the block."

"I have no doubt that you can do whatever you set about doing," he told her, dragging her hand back to his side so that she could inspect her own handiwork. "I have never though you any less than brilliant. And I assure you that I am a survivor. No fall or spell is going to keep me from living."

"Good," she said firmly. "I would hate to have to pick out your tunic only for you not to attend the ball. I was counting on that dance."