A/N: Warning, very brief mentions of M-content at the end of this chapter.
Chapter 8 - The Ball.
The days before her birthday passed by in the blink of an eye; something she found fortunate, as she really wanted all the fuss to be done with soon.
A large part of the day she would spend helping her mom and the castle staff finish with the preparations; it was a rush of placing the final decorations and figuring out the order in which the songs would be played by the band and letting the cooks know the flavors of the cake.
It was exhausting. And not because she thought the activities themselves to be exhausting, but because the idea of her day being preoccupied with such banal activities when she had so much more in her head was extremely tiring. It had her tapping her fingers anxiously on her lap, teeth digging into her inner cheek as she looked for any opportunity that could lead her to an escape from the castle.
Every other day, she'd find a gap in her schedule that allowed her to get away from ball preparations, and back to working on her second big mission.
It nearly was as if she was living two separate lives; and whenever she wasn't Emma the royal heir, she would sit on the floor of Killian's cabin, following up with their investigation to find the missing princess.
Or, to be completely honest, that was what they pretended they did. It seemed like the more and more they met, the less they preoccupied themselves with matters of Belle or the crocodile. They'd already figured it all out: they'd head off to follow the last piece of information they'd had about Belle the day after Emma's birthday — they would find the town haunted by the beast Belle had set off to defeat, and figure out whatever had happened to her there.
So all they could do until then was wait. And still, they continued to have their little gatherings; where instead of worrying about their upcoming adventure, they would talk of whatever crossed their minds at the moments — sometimes for hours, sometimes until their bodies shook and clenched with laughter over some silly stories.
Sometimes they didn't talk at all. They just found themselves in silence, each in their own space of mind. She would grab any of his books, and absent-mindedly glance through them, while he would sit at his desk, going through scrolls and maps he kept.
In one of their many meetings, Emma had been lying on Killian's bed, lying on her side with her head rested on the palm of one hand, quite comfortably. Odd, considering she was right in the middle, invading what might've been considered as his personal space; the place he spent his nights in, resting and, though Emma didn't want to put much thought into it, probably did other - more physical - activities.
He didn't seem to mind having her there, though; and she felt like his cabin was an inviting and warm place to her.
Killian sat by his desk, absent-mindedly flickering through a book's pages. Emma lifted her head to watch him; she'd had an idea wandering around her mind for a while, yet she was unsure of how to phrase it to him.
Oh, just say it.
"Have you considered going?" Emma asked, playing it off almost uninterested.
He looked up at her. "Where to, love?"
"The ball."
Killian's expression shifted to surprise, and then he leaned back into his chair, crossing his arm into his chest. "I didn't know the King and Queen were so open-minded to let a pirate into their celebrations."
Emma bit down her tongue and then raised herself to a standing position. "They don't have to know."
She pulled something out from her satchel, leaving the bed to sit on the stool beside Killian.
She left the small paper item on the desk, to which Killian snorted with amusement. "Lass, I was joking before when I asked if I was getting an invite-"
"You aren't," Emma shook her head, moving the paper to his side of the table, urging him to read the words carefully written on the parchment.
"Prince Charles?" he read out loud, raising an eyebrow with curiosity. "Did you make that up?"
Yes, she had. Emma rolled her eyes. "Many invitations are sent out to many royal men for these celebrations. I'm sure no one will notice."
"Well, then," Killian grabbed the invitation in his hand and looked at her with an amused glint in his eyes. "I didn't know you wanted me on your ball."
"Since we've been waiting to actually continue with our plan until after the ball, I thought the least you deserved was to see the celebration for yourself." Emma shrugged, hoping he wouldn't see right through her and know the idea of having him around on her birthday was something that made her heart flutter. "Besides, we might get something out of it, perhaps."
Killian just raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to elaborate.
"Balls aren't just some superficial event; they're political," Emma explained. "People from all far-off lands come bearing news."
"You want to see if anyone comes with any news of the lass?"
"Yes," Emma nodded, biting down her lip as she added, "Or maybe... I've been thinking about this for the past few days. Belle wasn't a captive to the dark one just because... she made a deal with him to stop the war. If she's still out there, away from Rumplestiltskin, then it means-"
"The deal is broken," Killian finished her sentence, realization dawning on him. "War might come."
"Or worse," Emma grimaced. Were they dealing with something bigger than they'd at first expected?
A heavy silence fell between them. After a few seconds, Emma cleared her throat, to break it.
"So… Have anything better to do then?"
Killian let out a chuckle. "I'll go on one condition."
"And what that might be?" Emma asked, rolling her eyes.
"That the princess will grant me a dance," he said, in such a charming tone Emma couldn't help the faint blush that crept up her cheeks, as she let out a soft laugh.
"I believe that can be arranged."
The sunlight filtering through the window was reflected on the little gemstones adorning the red dress, glistening softly as Emma twirled in front of her mirror.
The upper part of the dress stuck tight to her figure, the corset beneath keeping her belly and waist tight and a lot flatter than it was in reality. Beneath her waist the dress puffed out, thick and large with multiple layers of soft fabric.
"You look so lovely, my dear," Snow said with excitement. She too was dressed up; only her dress was a deep shade of blue with silver details, not quite as puffy as Emma's. Her hair, already greying, was wrapped up in a low bun; a golden crown lying on top of her head.
"It's not too much, is it?" Emma turned to face her mother, unsure.
Snow shook her head, amused. "It's your night, Emma; you're entitled to too much. But no, you look just about perfect."
Emma nodded, hands over the silk smoothing it down.
"Now, about that hair," Snow mumbled, reaching up to grab the long curls of blonde hair.
Emma nearly wanted to roll her eyes at herself. When had she ever worried so badly about her appearance? Most times, she would just let her hair down - the less time she wasted on gowns and hairdos, the faster she'd be down enjoying the party.
But that night there was an electric feeling around her, like something had changed.
She sat down in front of her hairdresser, as Snow combed and tied her hair into a high bun, adorned with a bright red ribbon.
"Yes, I think that'll do," Snow admired her work proudly, as her fingers touched up the loose strands that framed her daughter's face. "You seem… More excited than usual over the ball."
Snow was quite perceptive, and Emma looked at her through the mirror. She gave a nonchalant response, "Balls are always quite the same, mom."
Snow made a face, and then guessed: "Then, what about suitors?"
Emma snorted. "Right, what suitors?"
Her mother rolled her eyes. "As if you didn't know. Princes from all lands would kill for your hand."
And while it was a typical thing a mother would say, Emma knew there was some truth to it. As she had reached an age of maturity, these balls would be filled with royal men who desired to court her.
"And I wouldn't give my hand to none of them."
Snow's lips curved with pride. "That's how I know you're my daughter."
They both laughed.
"One day you'll find a love worth your hand," Snow's hands fell to lie on top of Emma's shoulders. "But until then, you can enjoy the attention. Believe me, no one will take their eyes off you tonight."
No one, huh?
The final touches were made; Emma kept her face natural, placing only rose tints on her lips and cheeks. Snow helped place the silver crown on top of her head, and with that, they left their chambers to join the party that was about to begin downstairs.
David was already waiting for them outside the large ballroom. He was too dressed in one of his finest looks, as handsome as he might've been in his younger years.
His face lit up as he saw the two women walking towards him.
"You two look…"
Mother and daughter interchanged brief looks, before saying in near-perfect synchronization: "We know."
David approached his daughter first, giving her a long embrace. "You've become quite the woman," he said, standing back to watch her, eyes filled with love and pride.
"How the years have passed by, huh," Snow sighed happily, as her husband reached up to plant a soft kiss on her lips.
"I still remember her first dance — she was so small, I had to carry her whilst we danced, and it made her giggle all the way through." Something appeared within his light eyes, like a mix of nostalgia and pride.
"Okay, that's enough of embarrassing me for now," Emma chuckled, blushed cheeks under her parents' prideful gaze. "We'll be late for the party, anyway."
David extended his arm for her to grab onto it, pulling her close as they opened the large doors. "You'll save me that first dance?"
Emma smiled at her dad, filled with love. "Always, daddy."
"Happy birthday, princess!"
The room resonated with exclamations and clapping as Emma shut her eyes tightly and leaned her face towards the table — blowing onto the one, large candle on top of the strawberry-vanilla cake.
She looked up, lips pressed into a shy, blushing smile as she found the room filled with people celebrating her. At the front, stood the people closest to her family — the dwarves, Red, Pinnochio, Jiminy, and others.
"Do tell, princess, what did you wish for?" One of the dwarves, Grumpy, asked.
Emma shook her head. When she'd blown onto the candle, all she had been able to think about was how fortunate she was to be surrounded by the people she loved. It was what she always wished for, all her birthdays. "Nothing new — just for us to stay like this forever. Together."
Snow and Charming shared a look, proudly.
"Luckily," her father spoke in a low voice, taking a step to approach his daughter. "That is something that will never change. We'll always be together."
Emma reached her hand to grab his.
"Now," Charming spoke, this time louder, to all of the room. "Let the celebration begin."
The room turned more gleeful, active, and as the evening progressed more and more people filled the room, approaching the princess to pay their respects one after the other; some even bearing gifts.
She'd greeted and made brief, polite chats with at least a hundred people by now; so long her cheeks were starting to feel tense from all the continuous, exaggerated smiling.
"Happy birthday, your highness."
A couple approached her, walking side by side with arms locked together. Emma's smile turned a little brighter.
"Aurora, Phillip," she greeted, stepping in to hug first the petite woman, and then the taller man.
Since they were kids, the pair was always joined by the hip - they were always meant to marry once they were older, and now it was clear within their faces it wasn't just political — it was true love.
News had traveled fast around, how they had been haunted by a wicked witch from their lands — making Aurora fall into a deep, eternal sleep.
Much like Emma's parents' story, Phillip had been brave enough to dare and defeat the witch, breaking the curse with true love's kiss.
"I'm so happy to see you are both safe," Emma's hand rested on the arms of both of them, gently squeezing them in a gesture of affection.
They still looked tired, like they still were barely recovering from the hell they endured, yet the look they both shared said they were incredibly happy.
"Things are good now," Aurora shyly smiled. "Hope everything is well here, too."
"As well as it's ever been," Emma shrugged, smiling kindly.
"Hopefully you'll come to visit our land soon," Phillip said. "You'll be deeply missed at our wedding if you don't."
Emma grinned, "Oh, I wouldn't ever dare miss it! Congratulations."
They shared a few more words, before both Aurora and Phillip curtsied, wishing her yet again a happy birthday, before walking away.
"Happy birthday, princess," a tall, tan-skinned man had been waiting behind the couple, hands locked behind his back. Her eyes drifted to his figure as he approached her; he was well dressed, and a silver crown adorning his head too.
It took her a couple of moments to recognize him. The last time she'd seen him, it was at a ball very much like this one, only they were much, much younger — and he was much shorter and slimmer.
"Prince Derek," Emma greeted him, curtsying. "It's been… a while."
Perhaps it was that her cheeks were starting to give in from all the smiling she had been doing for the past hour, or that she'd never really liked this prince that much, but her smile became a bit more forced than before.
"You've changed," the prince admired, as he curtsied. "You look beautiful, your highness."
Her lips pursed for a brief moment. She remembered having a growth spur while being fourteen, looking tall and garbled and how her ball gowns would stick flat to her chest, making her look unfeminine. The prince standing in front of her had been kind enough to point it out, taunting her with a nickname whenever they crossed paths.
"Yes, I do believe I've outgrown the ugly duckling phase," Emma mocked, in a faked nice tone.
"I'm sorry I was rude back then," he said, seeming embarrassed. "Perhaps I could make it up to you."
"And how?"
"We could start with a dance," he smiled, uncertain.
Emma was barely able to hold back the eye roll. As if.
She could think of hundreds of other ways to better start her evening than to do it by sharing a dance with a smug, bratty prince.
"Perhaps, I'll take you up on that offer later," Emma smiled politely, as she took a step aside to walk away from the conversation. After all, it was already time to find her father, so the dancing would begin, "If you'll excuse me, I'll share a dance first with my father and friends."
She didn't give him time to reply, as she was out into the crowd, trying to spot her father.
It'd been quite some time since he went to one of these.
It reminded him of his early days as a lieutenant when he and his brother would be invited to those fancy celebrations; in reward of their triumphant missions on the royal navy.
How many things had changed since then.
Thankfully, he was a pirate — and if needed, pirates quite excelled at blending in to deceive.
He'd gone past the gates with no trouble, handing out the faked invitation and immediately making his way into a large ballroom, filled with people who appeared to be all from high-class; princesses and kings and dukes.
But he had yet to spot the person he'd come looking for.
Oh, how it insane it was for him to be doing this — and he could attempt to disguise it as just a way to entertain himself while they waited to continue on the search for the missing princess, but he knew more than well it was more than that.
He could've just as easily spent his night in the bar, drinking himself to oblivion along with his mates; instead of sneaking into a place filled with people who had about nothing in common with him and his way of life — just so he could fulfill his curiosity of seeing her tonight.
The ballroom was spectacular, with colorful decorations and bright candlelights that made everything look in a warm tone.
And something told him that Emma's presence tonight would easily outdo all of that.
As he looked around, trying to catch a glimpse of those blonde hairs and bright green eyes, he stumbled upon the catering table. Delicate glasses were already filled with a dark liquid, and thinking to himself why not, Killian took one for himself.
Pulling it up to his face, he sniffed it; wrinkling his nose at the too-sweet smell, before taking a sip. Exquisite, certainly, but the liquor would go down like water to him. He was used to much stronger, bitter types of booze.
He was suddenly thankful he had decided to bring his old, faithful canteen with him.
"And now, it is time for the royal first dance."
The announcement interrupted his thoughts, which was loudly made by one of the regal servants. Everybody seemed to stop at what they were doing, as the room filled with the sound of the start of a slow-paced waltz song.
Everybody seemed to gather around, leaving the space in the center of the room empty for the king and princess to step into their first dance.
Moving around through the crowd of people, Killian was able to finally spot her as she took her father in hand, and they began to swirl around the ballroom.
Under the candlelights of the ballroom, she glowed — her red dress sparkling as she twirled into the king's arms.
He would be lying if he said it had no effect on him, that his heart didn't suddenly feel much bigger and stronger inside his chest.
Ah, yes — this was the reason he'd agreed to all this.
He'd seen the lass glow under the dim lights of dirty bars and ugly streets, but here — in that fluffy red dress and silver crown, she was as bright as an imploding sun.
And that was a sight he had to see for himself.
The dancing continued until the song came to a cease, and father and daughter separated, bowing to each other with loving eyes. The previous song was replaced by a more upbeat tone, and soon more couples approached the center of the room and joined the dancing.
Emma and the king split ways; the older man taking now his wife in hand to dance. A young, blonde man approached the princess, and from afar he could see the polite, shy smile Emma offered as she began to dance with him.
After him, another came — and another. Couples danced and left the dancefloor, only for more couples to replace them. The ambiance was quite joyful, and Emma remained at the center of it all.
He wanted to think he knew her well enough already to know she wasn't entirely herself when dancing with some of her suitors — there was a polite, more on the colder side, a smile on her face that didn't quite match the personality he'd come to appreciate so much from her.
It was clearly noticeable to him when her partners switched to be people more familiar to her, as she giggled and twirled and seemed to make fun conversation with them.
Even from the sidelines, it made him happy.
"Do you dance?" A voice asked, and his head shot to the side a young, petite blonde woman. Icy blue eyes stared at him, and Killian just looked at the woman, baffled.
"Hmm?"
"I asked if you wanted to dance," she batted her eyelashes.
She was attractive, wearing a bright pink dress that matched her skin tone quite well. He'd learned to read that expression on girls whose eye had been caught by him, with that flirtatious glint in their eyes and feigned shy smiles.
In other times, it would've immediately set him off into his most charming demeanor, ready to flirt his way around just to get what he wanted — even if only for the fun of it.
But tonight, he couldn't keep his attention on anything for more than just a couple of seconds before having the urge of looking back at the center of the room, to catch another glimpse of the dancing blonde woman.
Oh god, had she made him ill or something —?
"Do you? Dance?"
As his eyes held on to the center of the room, he realized Emma seemed to finally break away from all the dancing partners and was making her way to be hidden by the crowd.
He didn't even have to think about it. Shooting a very short glance at the inquiring woman as he let out an apologetic 'sorry', he moved the direction he'd seen the blonde princess going.
Let's see, where would Emma go after a half-hour of nonstop dancing?
Probably, he guessed, to get something to calm her thirst.
He had been right, as he caught a glimpse of her as he approached the catering table.
Killian approached her and gently slid his hand behind her waist — making her jump in surprise and look to a side wide-eyed; before a smile lit up her entire face as she realized it was him. "Princess,"
"Killian," Emma breathed out happily, and Killian's heart skipped a beat at that sound.
"Charles," he corrected her, shaking his head. A wholehearted laugh left her mouth.
"Prince Charles, of course," she said between giggles. "I didn't think you'd actually come."
"Well, I wouldn't ever dare miss your birthday. You look—" the word got caught up in his throat; as he looked at her now, up close, he found he lacked the words to describe her.
Emma seemed well aware, as she only smiled smugly and shrugged. "I know."
He chuckled lowly. "I noticed you were having quite some fun out there,"
Emma rolled her eyes playfully, "Oh, I thought they wouldn't leave me alone until I danced with every possible man in the room — but I had to get some liquid on me before I passed out," she joked, signaling at the nearly empty cup of wine on her right hand. "How about you — have you found any princesses to dance with? — A lot of people around here are very nice, and plenty are very rich, which I guess that's what a pirate is looking for—"
She was joking through giggles, and he wondered if this wasn't actually the first glass she'd had, or perhaps that the occasion made her gigglier than ever.
He also wondered if she really believed he'd even dare dance with any woman that wasn't her tonight.
"I'm saving my dancing for a particular princess, lass," Killian stated, and Emma's brows raised, a smirk creeping up in her face. "So, will you?"
"Will I what?"
"Save me that dance you promised?"
Emma seemed to bite her inner cheek, holding back a smile — yet the glow in her eyes let him know straight away, she was looking forward to that dance as much as he was.
It's a couple of hours later that Emma felt like her feet might fall off from the ache, having already danced with a large portion of the men attending the ball.
They were brief and filled with compliments from the visiting princes, which Emma responded with kind smiles and answered as politely as she could. To some, she would try to make small chats with — asked about neighboring kingdoms in hopes she'd hear any news that might interest her. Most were bland chats, quickly turning to silence as she waited for the piece of music to end and move on with another partner.
Other dances, however, were more joyful and filled with laughter — like dancing with Pinocchio or the dwarves.
She had danced with nearly everyone in the room, and yet she still owed somebody a dance.
Still, Emma was determined to get a rest from all the dancing, stepping away from the dancefloor and into the crowd.
By the table filled with drinks and food were a couple of soft chairs, there so anyone who might be too tired of dancing could go rest their feet. It was just what she needed.
Emma sat down, sighing in relief as her feet were relieved of the task of carrying her own weight, and she daydreamed of the moment where she could take off the tight heels.
"Your highness," a grave voice greeted her, making her raise her eyes to her side, where a short, bulky man watched her with respect. "Tired, I presume."
Emma shook her head. "The shoes," she said with a polite smile. "I've never been fond of these types of shoes."
"Perhaps, one day you can make so under your reign all dances be while shoeless," the man laughed under his breath, before bowing before her. "Lord Gerald, of Archenland."
Emma's eyes widened a little, "Oh — you come from the north. I've never had the pleasure of visiting, it's such a long road away."
"It's a troubling trip, I wouldn't recommend it," he shook his head forcefully. "Many, many nights at sea — and nights of traveling high up north aren't pretty, your highness. The cold night is as sharp as a knife. But the warmth once you get here, makes it all worth it — you have quite the excellent weather, did you know?"
"We are blessed," Emma answered, curiosity creeping into her. "Most wouldn't take such a journey to come to a ball. What do I owe the pleasure?"
Lord Gerald seemed surprised for a moment and then chuckled. "I've been asked by my king to speak with your father. I already have, in fact — I asked him a seat and a word in the next council meeting he holds."
The statement piqued her interest. "And what will you say?"
He eyed her with suspicion. "You're not a very common princess, are you? Most would be dancing all night long, not asking questions to an old man like me."
Emma shrugged, rising from her seat to be a little closer to the man. "Most of this is all diplomatics, isn't it? The dancing and drinking are fun, but what matters is the people — the relationships we make in these meetings."
The man shook his head, in disbelief, "How old is it you are again?"
"Just turned nineteen,"
"Well, your highness, might I say you are clever despite your years," he complimented her. "But might you accept this old man's advice?"
Emma nodded, folding her arms across her chest, looking at him curiously.
"Enjoy your night, your highness. Dance until your feet swell and drink until you don't remember your name. The night is lovely, and you might as well make the most of it. We can never know for sure if these might be one of the last happy times."
The statement ended in a darker tone, heavy silence following until Emma insisted. "Something is wrong."
"The northern lands are troubled," he admitted, his expression one of concern. "But that is a conversation for me and your father to have, your highness."
He bowed slightly at her. "Happy birthday, fair princess," he kindly said, before stepping away from the table.
It left Emma with a lot to think about, and a feeling of sinking uncertainty surrounding her.
Had her suspicion been right? Were bad things happening, all related to her friend's disappearance?
Whatever the answers were to the questions that now rang in her head, she was certain she wouldn't get any of them tonight.
You might as well make the most of this night.
So after composing herself for a moment, Emma looked around, through the guests that danced and cheerfully talked, hoping to find Killian.
She hadn't actually seen him since the beginning of the evening, and she even wondered if he still was around.
He could've easily gotten bored of waiting and gone home to his ship.
However, she was proved wrong a few moments later as she found him — and to say she was surprised, was an understatement.
Killian stood tall next to an older man, in deep conversation. While music didn't allow her to eavesdrop on what they were saying; she could notice how interested the man was in the conversation — even laughing out loud at some of Killian's remarks.
Truth was, with the way he'd dressed tonight — in a much finer, less pirate-y dressing — and with the way he carried himself, so arrogant and confident, yet polite and educated; Emma became certain not a single soul in the place would ever have the slightest doubt of this man being just as regal as anyone else in the room might be.
Emma cleared her throat. Both men looked her way, and the older man immediately curtsied upon noticing her presence. Killian, however, had his face lit up by a flashy grin.
She couldn't help but smile, "Have you been enjoying the evening, gentlemen?"
"Of course, your highness,"
"A fairly lovely evening, princess," Killian nodded, cheeky look on his face. "But I've yet to dance with the birthday girl."
Emma chuckled. "Is that an invitation?"
Killian raised his right arm, inviting her to wrap her arm around his — which she did without hesitation. He turned his face to the man, who was clearly embarrassed by the obvious flirty ambiance and had looked away from the pair, taking a long sip of his drink. "It was a pleasure, sir. Hope we meet again sometime,"
The man nodded, "Goodbye, sir Charles. Your highness."
He bowed at the princess, who nodded at him — yet pressed her lips thinly to help herself from laughing out loud.
She let out a fit of giggles once the man was far out of their sight. "Sir Charles?" she imitated, incredulous.
Killian chuckled beneath his breath, amused as well. "He approached me as he believed he knew me from somewhere — he insisted I was a fairly rich lord who'd once tried to court his daughter."
Emma laughed lowly. "My, my, pirate," she whispered. "You're really good at this, did you know?"
They incorporated into the middle of the room, where another few couples danced. As they faced each other, Killian raised his eyebrow teasingly. "You doubted I would?"
In reality, she didn't. He was cunning and clever, like any other pirate would be; yet had enough charm and charisma to make him stand out from any crowd. She had the idea that he could easily charm his way through this or any ball. She cheekily smiled, shrugging in response, however.
Emma placed her left hand on his shoulder, and as she raised her right to wrap her fingers around his hook, she was surprised to meet hard wood instead of cold metal. Her eyes shot down to her own hand, finding it to be holding a gloved fake one.
Killian noticed her surprise. "I believed the hook to be a dead giveaway."
Emma snorted, just as they started swaying to the music. She'd gotten so used to his hook, she felt weird holding this — even when it was a more accurately hand-shaped prosthetic. "Right. Might I say, though, the hook suits you better."
Killian seemed to beam at the response, "Noted."
Their dance picked up as the rhythm of the music did as well. They twirled and swung around, and Emma noticed the pirate had no problem leading the dance.
"I'm sorry I haven't spent too much time with you today," she said, apologetic, as the thought came to her that he'd stayed — making perhaps boring small chats all night long, as he'd been waiting around the ballroom, maybe just to get this one dance with her.
Killian shook his head, nonchalant. "This dance is worth the wait," he said. "And the evening is beautiful. I've been enjoying myself; the music, the food. The view."
He moved his eyebrow suggestively, and Emma rolled her eyes. He added, "I do have a complaint, though,"
"What?"
They twirled around once more.
"The drinks are awful."
A burst of laughter came from her lips. Of course, wine and all this fancy stuff as he'd call it would be like drinking mere water to a man like Killian.
"Next time I'll make sure there's rum," she said through giggles.
Killian chuckled, and for a quick moment, he took his hand off her waist, lifting his brown coat slightly to show its inner pockets. A small canteen could be seen. "No need. I've been pouring this over those awful things."
She laughed, incredulous. "I should've known!" she accused.
He brought both his arms down to her waist, pulling her tightly to him so he could lift her slightly, twirling her around before putting her back down on her feet. She was amazed at how well he knew the steps of the dance.
"I guess you weren't lying about knowing how to dance…" Emma mumbled with raised eyebrows. Killian smirked.
"Dancing is simple once you've learned to listen to the music and to feel your partner… and I couldn't have a better one."
Maybe the words were just meaningless flirting, but she actually felt just the same.
In fact, she'd been grinning like crazy throughout the dance — and actually, he seemed quite happy as well, a gentle smile on his face that reached up to his eyes, making them a brighter blue. Almost like they were reading each other's minds, or maybe they were just feeding off the chemistry their bodies created, pulling each other in like magnets to match the other's movements like they were in near-perfect sync.
They found themselves caught in those moments that felt infinite and yet, too brief. The music slowed down, soft violins pulling the song to its end, and their dance went back to just softly swaying.
Her feet ached. And still, Emma kept her hold on Killian, hopeful the song would play over and over and they could still keep dancing.
The truth was, she didn't want to lose him again through the crowd; go back to pretending as she'd ever be interested in any of those princes and suitors.
She had already found the right partner.
Emma allowed the intimate bubble they'd created to be burst, and she looked around. Tensing up slightly, she noticed that while they weren't the only couple at the center of the ballroom, more than a few people from the crowd were staring — admiring their dance.
She looked back at him, "Let's get out of here," the words blurted out of her mouth, and her brow furrowed slightly at the idea of having just made a fool out of herself. "My feet are killing me. And besides, it's nearly time."
Killian seemed surprised. "Time for what?"
The music stopped, and so did they. Emma gave him a shy smile. "Meet me in the hall in five minutes," she said lowly.
Despite his curious look, Killian didn't question her. He only took her hand in his and pressed his lips against the skin. "As you wish."
They walked away in opposite directions, yet her heart continued to jump around even after he was out of sight.
Perhaps it was time to stop pretending like the pirate didn't cause this chemical, explosive reaction within her body.
Stopping by the catering table, she poured herself yet another glass of wine, taking a long sip — maybe to clear her mind, or perhaps fog it even more.
He was daring, infuriating, unpredictable — yet kind and true. She was drawn to him like a magnet, yet never seemed to be close enough to touch.
She chugged down the rest of the contents in her glass, feeling like she would most certainly need the liquid courage on her system.
You might as well make the most of this night.
She would — she would say something tonight.
Something along the lines of: 'You are an insufferable, cocky, stubborn pirate — and I think I am in love with you.'
Or maybe not quite like that. Geez, the wine had already clouded her judgment, huh.
Her thoughts wandered off to the different, possible, and most ridiculous ways she could let her own heart be heard as she sneaked away from the ballroom; hoping neither her parents nor close friends would notice and curiously follow.
Crossing past the large doors, she immediately spotted Killian. He absent-mindedly leaned into a large column some feet away from the ballroom; standing up straight and flashing her a smile once he noticed her presence.
"At last," he playfully spoke as he took a couple of long strides towards her. He wiggled his eyebrows at her. "It's quite moving you want me all by yourself, Princess; but do tell: where are we going?"
Emma rolled her eyes, "Walk and you'll see."
She led him away from the hall; into the long set of stairs that led to the uppermost floors. They walked close to each other; the first one to break the silence being Killian as he followed Emma into one of the rooms within the floor.
It was dark, the room barely lit by the moonlight that filtered from the balcony.
"You brought me to your room," he observed curiously, looking around.
"Indeed I did," she stopped to look at him, and he shot her an amused look.
He took a small step to lean into her, pronouncing words near her ear. "Hm, so you have finally succumbed to my charms."
His breath tickled; and while it smelled the slightest like booze, she was pretty sure he wasn't anywhere near being drunk.
Do something, Emma. Say it!
Perhaps old habits die hard, as her first reaction was to play it nonchalantly, rolling her eyes.
"Please. Sleeping with a drunken pirate? Sounds far fetched to me," she mocked.
Killian chuckled, and purred out: "Not sleep, love."
Emma hoped under the dimly lit room her blushing cheeks would go unnoticed. "C'mon, I didn't bring you up here to flirt."
Lie.
They walked out onto the balcony, and Emma stopped at the edge, leaning into the railing. She felt Killian do the same right beside her.
The view was of the small lake surrounding the castle's grounds, further away were the large trees of the forest; and so far off you could nearly miss it, the sight view of the rooftops of the houses of the village.
"Quite a lovely view you've got there, princess."
Emma nodded in agreement. "By far one of the greatest things of living this high up."
"Was this what you wanted to show me?" Killian asked her.
"Not quite. Wait."
Emma looked up at the sky, waiting for something. A few moments passed in silence, the night as quiet and peaceful as it could be, except for the faded sound of music from below.
Emma took her eyes off the sky for a moment to look at Killian, and her heart slightly skipped as she caught his eyes buried into her already.
"You're staring," she noted.
"That bother you?" he nearly rolled his eyes as he asked.
"Just makes me wonder why," she replied softly.
Hopefully, it would be for the same reason she found herself sneaking glances at him more than she'd like to admit for the past few weeks. Looking at him released some sort of rush of emotions; a rush of adrenaline and delight that gathered around her heart and made it feel warm.
Before he could respond, an explosion above their heads had them looking away from each other and onto the sky, The dark, cloudy night was suddenly overexposed with lights and colors.
"Fireworks?" Killian asked a bit surprised yet underwhelmed. "Not what I expected, love."
"I know it's silly," she quickly excused herself. "But when I was little I thought they were magical. Since then I've always enjoyed watching them."
Killian chuckled lowly, nodding in understanding at her words. They remained silent for a while, observing the explosions as they came each time in different colors and drew different shapes onto the sky.
"You must be pretty special, Swan, if the sky lights up like this for you."
Emma frowned slightly at his observation. She'd never really thought of it that way, despite the fact it did make her feel special. She shook her head. "It's the customs of this place. They celebrate royalty, not me. It's not like I earned their love or respect like my parents had; I just was born into this," she refuted.
Killian gave her an exasperated look. "You're being foolish."
"Am not."
"You have a long path ahead of you, lass. In time, you'll be a good ruler, just like your parents — it's clear as day," he said earnestly. Emma's pursed lips turned into a shy smile. "They're getting ahead of what we all already know."
Emma thought it was a really lovely thing to say. He'd never expressed his thoughts about her being a royal before, and she sensed he was honest. He believed in her.
"Thanks," she said, giving him a small nudge with her shoulder, timidly.
The lights above their heads and the peacefulness that seemed to be out there, away from the crowd and music and stares, made the ambiance feel somewhat different: she felt closer to him than before.
It made her follow the spontaneous urge to lean closer into him, placing her head on his shoulder. Much to her surprise, after a couple of seconds she felt him respond to the act by gently leaning his head on top of hers.
"Happy birthday, love," he said softly before they both fell into silence. Not an uncomfortable one; but one filled with peace, as they watched the far-off explosions appear one after the other before their eyes.
But peacefulness, unfortunately, was never an eternal feeling.
"The day is nearly ending... Have you thought yet about our little adventure?" Killian asked, breaking the moment as he set his head straight and looked at her with a side-eye, to get a glimpse of her.
Emma reincorporated herself, moving her position to face him as the realization came to her mind: she hadn't told him anything of what had happened previous to their dance and little escapade.
"We have to know what happened to her, soon," Emma said and told him about what she'd heard earlier — the conversation with the lord, the unknown trouble that seemed to be lurking up north.
"It is as you thought — bad news are starting to come," Killian said, a little thoughtful. He frowned. "You truly believe this is all related? It might be coincidental—"
"Maybe... But I can't shake the feeling something bad is going on," Emma stated, slight worry upon her face. "The quicker we find her, we can make some sense into this. We can get some answers."
Of why things had started to go upside down — and it all seemed to have started since her friend's disappearance.
Killian nodded, and then chuckled with slight irony, "Well, our quest is turning even more strange by the minute,"
Emma sighed, "Yeah, it is,"
"When all of this is over, we might be in need of a long vacation — away from the madness," he sighed with exasperation.
Emma snorted. "As if a princess ever could have a vacation,"
"Maybe you could," Killian replied, insecurity in his voice as he continued: "Maybe just a short trip with me and the Jolly — I could even teach you how to sail her."
Emma looked at him, surprised, trying to see through his intentions; wondering if perhaps he was just teasing, or he actually meant it.
She let out a giggle. "Sailing a pirate ship? You've lost your mind."
"You wouldn't like that, then?" He raised his eyebrows, unsure.
There was a slight hopefulness in his voice, too.
Emma shook her head, a shy smile on her face. "I would love that, captain,"
"It's a deal, then," Killian flashed his teeth in a joyful grin, "Once we've found your friend and a way to destroy the crocodile, we'll take a few days off on the ship. You can see the sea, and…"
Whatever he kept saying after that, she didn't pay attention to.
Everything had unfolded so fast and unexpectedly — a friend in trouble, an imminent danger they had yet to figure out; that for a second she'd forgotten about the real motives that'd led the pirate to become her partner in this unexpected adventure.
Though he seemed understanding when it came to her role of protecting her land, he was never concerned by the same things she was. He had his very own, very selfish reasons to be there with her.
There wouldn't be a vacation, nor some magical days away at sea — not when he was destined to die or be cursed to accomplish his one true mission.
"Why do you care so much?" Emma asked with exasperation, making him halt in whatever he might've been saying, and give her a surprised look.
"About sailing with you? I thought—"
"No," she cut him off again. "About killing Rumplestiltskin. After so long, why are you still convinced killing him is what you're meant to do?"
The question she'd asked was sharp, and this was the first time she'd ever confronted him directly about it. She'd never questioned his motives, his silly motives before; it's not like it ever was any of her business. They were just circumstantial partners, joined by some weird forces of fate to figure out what they needed to know to accomplish their goals, to then part ways.
But that wasn't it anymore. She cared now; she was just allowing herself to admit how much she'd started to care for him. And she felt like she had the right to know why he was willing to throw his life away so easily.
Killian seemed taken aback by her sudden change of mood within the conversation. He frowned, hesitating for a moment before answering: "It has to be. I promised I would spend my life working to kill him."
Emma shook her head. "Some promises aren't meant to be taken seriously. Not when fulfilling them means—"
"And fail Milah?"
The pirate's words hit her like a glass of freezing water in her face. Reality came, loud and harsh and clear to let her know she had only been seeing what she wanted to see.
All the flirting, the chemistry, the glee she believed could see in his eyes when he was around her meant nothing.
Whatever feelings he could possibly have for her, would always pale under the shadow of his lost love.
She couldn't help but turn her face away from him to try and hide the hurt; embarrassed to even admit she felt that way, and was the only one to blame there. She had allowed herself to feel for him, foolishly.
She still had however to get her last word, bitterly spitting out:
"You can love her still, but following vengeance till your last breath won't make you get her back."
Silence followed.
For a moment, Emma considered leaving, getting back downstairs; chug another glass of wine and pretend like nothing had happened. She had nothing else to say, and she expected the pirate to say nothing as well.
"I don't."
She looked back with curiosity to his direction, and their eyes met.
"I don't love her. Not like before."
Emma's brain went into a blank, mouth opening slightly in surprise as if for a moment she'd forgotten about nearly every single word you could find in a dictionary.
Whatever she might've thought of saying, he didn't give her time to speak:
"Until not too long ago I thought I still did," he admitted. "I thought was fighting for what I loved. But lately, things that have happened have made me realize what I've been feeling the past hundreds of years isn't love; it's hurt and anger. I thought that feeling was all I could possibly have, so I held on to it. But I know now, whatever I do I don't do it out of love."
"Then why do you?" Emma asked, lowering her guard as she was slightly overwhelmed with how openly he was sharing his feelings with her. It was unexpected, but she noticed he was speaking the truth.
"I…" he hesitated, like the question had thrown him off his guard. He was always so quick, always had something to say — this was the first time she'd seen him unsure, struggling to find an answer. He sighed, almost defeated, and looked her straight in the eye. "Listen, lass, I've killed hundreds of men, for far less worse. The very least I can do is make sure the crocodile pays for what he did. Milah didn't deserve what happened - and neither did I. That day he took my hand, my love, my pride… What can of man would ever move on and let him get away unpunished?"
"A better man," Emma pointed out, in a reprehensible tone.
Killian's truthful expression shifted, maybe pretending to play it cool as he replied with irony: "I believe pirates don't take too much pride in being the better man."
"Silly," Emma sighed, in defeat.
But there was still a question lying on her tongue, and she wasn't able to resist it. She hesitated for a second, eyes buried into his, before asking:
"What changed your mind? About love."
Killian gave her a weird look, almost as if the question irritated him. He shook his head, turning his head back to the view from the balcony. "Show's over," he pointed out.
Indeed, the night was back to its peaceful quietness, without the sound of explosions above them; sky only lit by a large moon above their heads.
Of course, he'd avoid the question.
They would never stop playing this cat and mouse game, the push and pull they'd been having from day one.
Unless she said something. Something, anything to let him know there was something more between them than what they pretended.
Let him know she wanted him to choose her, above vengeance and darkness.
"They're probably missing me down there already," Emma said instead, feeling defeated. Tonight just wouldn't be that night. "I'll head downstairs."
As she pushed herself off the balcony, Killian nodded quietly.
"Careful not to get caught up here, pirate," she gave him a small smile, one he mirrored.
"Enjoy the rest of your evening, love. I'll see you again soon."
She breathed in deeply, before turning her back on the balcony and walking away.
Giving a quick look backward, maybe in a flash of hesitation, or in a brief wish to see him stop her, ask her to stay a moment more. She saw his tall figure still leaning onto the balcony, still and concentrated into the view outside, and she wondered what could be going through his mind right then.
She stepped into the dark room, steps decided to leave, and head back downstairs.
She was nearly out of the room when his voice halted her.
"Swan," he called.
Her heart skipped and her feet turned on their heels. Lit up by the reflection of the moon on the balcony, she saw he had pushed himself off the balcony, and clearly headed her direction, in long steps.
"What?" she asked, as he stopped in front of her.
He seemed to hesitate for a moment. Emma's eyes had not yet adjusted well to the dark room to properly see his expression, but she could notice how his eyes seemed to be moving around her eyes and downwards, making a decision.
She saw the intent in his eyes a second before his hand was placed on her chin, lifting it gently as his face approached hers. He was slow, stopping for a second inches away from her face, perhaps to make sure it was something she wanted too.
Who knew pirates could be so gentle.
It was probably a mere second or two, yet it felt eternal. His breath was warm on her face, making her pulse race, and her body to disconnect from her brain.
As if she were a magnet being called out by another, she lifted her face; closing the gap and pressing their lips together.
The feeling was just… something different. His lips tasted like rum, provoking all sorts of chemical reactions within her body. They kissed slowly, almost in an exploratory and careful way — savoring the moment.
Her hands went up to his chest, just as his hand moved to cup her face. He was gentle but firm, and if she could she would've stayed that way as long as it was physically possible.
She was still the one to break the kiss; her head was spinning around, almost as if she were drunk, and right then and there, she didn't know whether to blame the rum or Killian.
She, however, made no intention to move, and neither did he. She just stayed close to him, breathing in the same breath that he breathed and inhaling his essence.
Leather and rum and the sea.
"What was that for?" she asked under her breath.
Killian pressed his forehead to hers. "You're an extraordinary woman. And I'd go mad if I kept this to myself any longer."
His voice was low and raspy, making her heart jump into her ribcage.
"About time," was all she could think of saying, a slight smirk on her face. Neither of them had moved not even an inch, maintaining their grip tightly as if to not to let the other ever pull away.
A soft grunt was the only reply she got, and Killian captured her lips in yet another kiss. This one, however, was a little more sure, a little less careful.
A whimper escaped her throat, this kiss was fast and messy and she adored every second of it.
Her hands went to explore his face and hair, grabbing onto the strands at the back of his neck, as he pressed her body to his by surrounding her waist with his left arm.
There was a desperate feeling to this kiss, as if months of unresolved desire and sexual tension had built up and exploded into this.
It exploded and transformed into an ache, a physical ache that seemed could only be resolved by having his body as close to hers as possible.
Clothes seemed too heavy now, too warm and restricting; and out of instinct, she lowered her hands to his coat, for a split second unsure whether to use it to push him closer into her, or to attempt to take it off to have fewer layers between them.
Killian, however, seemed to have other plans as he cut the kiss short, pulling away. He was heaving, and so was her.
A mix of disappointment and incredulity rushed through her.
How come he had such restraint?
He had separated enough from her to watch her face, forcing her strong grip on him to break, hands lowering down to rest on his chest. She felt his heart, fast against her palm.
His face was slightly reddened, lips wet and hair sticking out from the grip her hands had previously had on it, and to her, he looked heavenly.
Still, he seemed more composed than she was, as he grabbed her right hand from his chest, pulling it up to kiss it as he would often do. He was saying goodnight.
"I don't want you to get in trouble now, love," he muttered against her hand. "I've kept you away from the ball too long."
He was right, probably.
As Killian let go of her hand, she lowered them to her sides, taking a deep breath in.
"I'll see you tomorrow then," she said under her breath, her voice raspy too.
Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness enough to see Killian smirking at that.
"Good night, princess."
And with that, he had walked out through her door and was gone.
Emma fell into her bed the minute he had closed the door behind himself, a bit incredulous and at the same time with her heart and mind racing. She let out a deep sigh, eyes closed as her head hit the soft mattress.
They felt the same way. With him, things had never been clear; everything was always surrounded by an aura of mystery and uncertainty. She'd seen glimpses of his feelings before, but this…
Today, it was clear as day.
The desperate kisses had told her how much he'd wanted this, his soft words under the dark told her it wasn't just lust or attraction - he felt the same way she felt for him.
Every thought of hers led back to the kiss, and she wondered what might've happened if he'd decided to stay.
Would the kissing have continued? Perhaps, their clothes would be falling onto the floor by now, her bare skin pressed to his warmth.
As her mind wandered away from reality to fantasy, she found her own hand almost unconsciously reaching down her body, finding its place between her legs, through the dress.
What an effect he had on her, huh.
Maybe it was the wine that was making it all much worse, but oh how she craved for him.
A small whimper escaped her lips, and she wondered if he'd be feeling the same desire she was.
Would he get back to his cabin still reliving the moment they'd shared?
Would he take himself —
A knock on the door made her jump and get back into reality.
"Your highness?" She heard the familiar voice of a guard through the door.
"Tom?" Emma inquired, shooting herself up into a sitting position, hoping her voice wouldn't give away how flustered she still was.
"Yes, princess," Tom answered. "I was sent to look around for you. You've been missing the party."
She jumped up from the bed, running her fingers through her hairdo hoping it would still be in place. She attempted to smooth her dress down with her hands, before rushing to the door and opening it.
The tall boy stood straight in front of her, wearing his uniform. Without his helmet, she finally could see his face; he seemed perhaps even younger than herself, blonde and green-eyed.
"Forgive me if I disturbed you," he shyly said.
"Not at all," Emma shook her head, "I just got caught up watching the fireworks."
A/N: This is... awkward. I'll keep this short because probably there's not many people around reading this - but I'm sorry. I grew up, graduated, had a full-time job, and I guess adulthood just hit me in the face and kept me from writing. But I've always now and then thought back to this story, and grew sad that I had stopped writing. I had lost the computer I had with my chapters written, yet a little ago I found an old notepad where I kept the details I had planned out about the story and just began writing it all over again.
So yeah, I've started to write on the weekends because I really love the story, and I've decided I will still post them in case someone still wants to read it :)