A/N: Apologies for the overdue update. This is the last chapter before the big reveal. I realized when writing that chapter that Emma had to reveal her feelings for Killian to herself first. Please forgive any grammar errors or other mistakes. As always, thank you all for reading, liking, and commenting!

(December)

As the brigade of sleek black Mercedes pulls up to the private entrance of Killian's winter home – the Amalienborg palace – he can't help but blow out a puff of air in exhaustion. The eight-hour red eye flight was just long enough to drain his energy; he really isn't in the mood for the time difference, his brutish father, or his father's tyrannical advisor, Regina.

Stepping out of the vehicle, Robin gives him a slap to the shoulder. "Cheer up mate, we won't be home long. Might as well try and enjoy the short time we have here."

"Easy for you to say," Killian grumbles under his breath as he takes in the view of his family's palace, aptly named after his long lost ancestor Frederick VIII. The royal family's private residence is the only one of the four lavish palaces of Amalienborg that is off limits to the public. Even still, it's not hard to miss the noise and cacophony of citizens and tourists that visit the exquisite castle throughout the year.

Squaring his shoulders, Killian begins the short trek across the drive to his family home. He feebly attempts to ignore the pestering voice in his head incredulously asking how in hell Emma will ever accept all this pomp and grandeur – she won't, you are not worth it.

"There you two are. It's about time."

Killian freezes in his tracks and cringes at the sound of the brisk, clipped voice from behind him. Standing a few feet from one of his home's many entrances, he rolls his eyes heavenward and does his best to plaster on a smile before turning around to face his father's most revered advisor. "Lovely to see you too, Regina," he says in a poor attempt at polite niceties.

"Regina! How are you there, darling?" Robin says with an over eager bow, stealing a kiss of Regina's hand.

Regina rolls her eyes at Robin's obvious flirting – (though they both know she secretly enjoys it) - before continuing in her normal operating piqued voice, "Enough with the false pleasantries. Killian, your father is waiting to see you in his chambers. I warn you not to aggravate the man, he is on an oxygen tank and it does little to help calm his temper."

"Might I fetch myself a cup of espresso first?" Killian asks honestly, doing his best to look innocent, hands inside his pockets and batting his lashes. Besides an obvious attempt at stalling the reunion with his father, he genuinely needs some caffeine to keep functioning. If he were back home in Storybrooke he would be asleep in bed - probably dreaming about Emma, but that is beside the point.

Regina simply rolls her eyes at the prince. "Fine, I'll radio Martha to have it ready upon your arrival in the kitchen. Make it quick your Highness."

Killian nods his head in agreement and takes off towards the kitchens.

"So m'lady, what news of the palace since we've been gone?" Robin asks, his tone one of flirtatious interest.

"You mean to tell me you haven't been checking your email?" She gives him an exasperated look before sharply turning on her heel to head in the opposite direction of the prince.

Robin jogs to catch up and loops his arm through hers in an attempt to escort her to her destination. "Now where would be the fun in that? I'd much rather get all the news and gossip straight from the woman in charge!"

Regina glares at him in response but allows him to accompany her. Secretly, the raven haired advisor misses Robin's scruffy features and flirtatious banter, but he doesn't need to know that.

-/-

Killian managed to coax Martha into preparing a second cup of espresso while he downed the first cup. Not hard to do, considering their mutual adornment of each other. Throughout his childhood, Martha was his favorite person in the household. She was always ready with fresh pastries and second helpings to keep him and Liam 'growing up strong.' Try as she may though, no amount of her love and care could protect him and Liam from the cold distance of his brutish father once his mother passed. Still, Killian will always be thankful for Martha's motherly spirit and affections, especially her caffeinated encouragement.

"If my espresso does not boost your energy, nothing on this planet will. Best of luck m'boy, you will surely need it."

"Thank you, Martha." Killian places a soft kiss upon her wrinkled cheek as he exits the kitchen and turns toward the direction of his father's private suites.

Stepping up to his father's doors and offering up the empty espresso cup to a nearby butler he doesn't recognize, Killian does his best to steal himself for the inevitable conversation. Too anxious to allow the butlers to open the doors for him, Killian takes one final deep breath and yanks open the doors only to pause at the unrecognizable sight in front of him.

His father, the king, is resting on a four-poster bed, an oxygen tube laced through his nostrils and a heart monitor machine beeping rhythmically at the bedside. The bed, normally made up promptly following the king's awakening, is littered with papers. The usually barren nightstand is home to several pill bottles, water glasses, and hopefully empty teacups.

Killian drinks in the scene with curiosity and confusion. He has never seen his father look so pale and gaunt. His father's cheeks are hollow, his eyes are tinged yellow, and even though he wears a robe, it does nothing to hide his emaciated form.

In an instant, Killian remembers his mother and brother and he is overcome with immense guilt for his jaunt to America. He should have been home, taking care of his father, helping out with matters of parliament and the rest.

"Ah the prodigal son returns."

Ignoring the jab, he walks to his father's bedside and takes a seat. He can be civil with the ailing man during his short time home. "Hello, father. How are you feeling?"

"Oh fine, fine -" the king says before being interrupted by a coughing fit. The machine begins to blare an obnoxious sound and a nurse whom Killian hadn't initially seen upon entering the room, comes over and pushes a few buttons. The incessant beeping comes to a halt and his father's coughing subsides as he shakes away the nurse from adjusting his oxygen tube. "Leave it, I am alright. I am alright."

The nurse backs away with her head bowed, and Killian muses however long the poor nurse has been employed, it certainly has not been long enough for her to brave the temper of the king - typical of the ill bastard.

"She was only trying to help father." Killian explains as he attempts to wipe away saliva from around his father's mouth with a tissue.

"I may be dying but I am not an invalid. I do not need assistance at every bloody hour of the day." He bats Killian's hand away and pushes himself up higher against the pillows at his back.

Swallowing down his frustration, Killian simply nods his head and remains silent. If he remains respectfully quiet long enough and acquiesces to his father, perhaps this encounter will end faster and he can return home to Emma sooner rather than later.

"Regina tells me things continue to be going well with you. No tabloid gossip here or in the states. That is good, that is very good."

Gritting his teeth, Killian nods his head. For the last few years, since attending BC at Storybrooke, he's been peacefully secluded from the prying eyes of the paparazzi. No scandals – (no access to nightclubs, cheap booze, and easy women to drown out painful memories) - to report in a sleepy college town of Massachusetts.

"The royal family's name is no longer being besmirched by your philanderer ways and you are soon to graduate with your final degree in five very short months. I want you, Killian, to use this break from school as a means of getting reacquainted with your royal duties. Following graduation, you shall come home to Copenhagen and we can finally transition you through coronation. My time is up my boy, but I can hold out a little while more to see you crowned king."

Killian's lungs constrict and his heart misses a beat. Coronation? Already? He knew his father was ill, knew he would soon be graduating and come into the crown in the next few years but bloody hell, months? He isn't ready for it. He isn't ready to give up his life, to give up Emma and Henry.

"Father, surely I am not yet prepared to take the crown. Surely -"

"Nonsense! You need some polishing yes, but you are ready and you will be crowned king of Denmark in May." Another coughing fit erupts from his father so Killian reaches across the nightstand to hand him a glass of water. After a few sips the king continues, "The arrangements have all been finalized. Regina shall help you every step of the way, and I expect you to heed her advice throughout the process. She shall continue in her lead advisory position with you as king. She can be a tremendous resource my boy, do take care not to piss her off more than you usually do, aye?"

Killian nods his head in agreement, the outward picture of dutiful heir to the throne, but internally he's thrashing around, trying to process everything his father continues to impress upon him. His ears begin to ring, his pulse quickens, and he forcefully grits his teeth to prevent from screaming aloud.

Within the span of minutes his future, which had always been abstract and distant, has now become his present reality. All it took was one short conversation with his father – (as always) - for his entire world to implode.

-/-

As the holiday break continues with Killian away in Denmark, no homework to pour into, and work slowing to a crawl, Emma becomes increasingly irritated at how slow time is passing.

Of course she wouldn't trade this time she has with Henry, going on daily adventurous activities around town and soaking up all of their mother-son bonding. And of course she is grateful for the rest and time with friends, but as the days progress she is keenly aware something, or rather, someone is missing – Killian.

She itches to check her phone for a text message from Killian but refrains when she remembers, reluctantly, it was her decision not to keep contact over the break. Once more, she tosses her cell phone to the side and glares daggers at the television, as if her impatience can be blamed on Carry Grant and Deborah Kerr.

"You know, it couldn't hurt to send a quick message letting him know you're thinking about him. It is the holiday season and last I checked, they do celebrate Christmas in Denmark." Mary Margaret says acerbically, eyes affixed to the screen as she digs into the bowl of popcorn perched atop her lap.

Emma averts her glare from the television screen to her overly optimistic friend. Mary Margaret meets her gaze with a pointed look and shrugs nonchalantly in return.

"I still don't understand why you insisted you two not talk while he's away. Not even Skype?" Ruby says as she plucks a beer from the fridge and makes her way back to the living room. "You do realize that pesky rule probably hurt him, right?" She adds as she flops onto the armchair haphazardly, legs hanging over the armrest, attention decidedly on Emma and not the Italian vista gracing the television screen.

Emma grits her teeth in annoyance. When David offered to take Henry to see the latest Lego movie, she decided to have the girls over for a holiday movie marathon – (An Affair to Remember hardly qualifies as a holiday movie, but she was outnumbered due to Ruby arriving late) – but now she's suddenly regretting it with all the talk about Killian.

"He didn't seem hurt by it," she mumbles from behind her beer before taking an overly large bite of popcorn. Emma deliberately chomps down in a show of petulance, not wanting to admit she's in the wrong, even though she is.

"Unless he was hurt and you simply chose to ignore it, too scared to wonder about the emotion behind it." Elsa chimes in, refilling her wine glass.

"Elsa," Emma says in a warning tone, "you are a pulmonologist not a psychiatrist. Stop with the psychoanalysis."

"Technically, we do all areas of study in medical school before specializing and I happen to have loved our psych component." Elsa takes a sip of chardonnay and glances around the room only to be met with three pairs of eyes giving her the 'spare me' look. "Okay you're right, that was pretty blunt of me. I'm sorry, Emma, you know I love you. I just see how happy you've been since Killian has come into your life and I don't want you to run away from that, from him."

Emma attempts to respond but is interrupted by Mary Margaret and Ruby's in unison and emphatic, "Exactly." Tilting her head in exasperation, Emma lifts her brow in silent acquiescence for her infuriating friends to continue.

"Come on Emma, you have feelings for him, we all can see it," Mary Margaret expresses in her commanding teacher voice, "and Killian has feelings for you too. I mean, look at this beautiful tree!" She takes a sharp inhale of the evergreen and smiles dreamily, "It even smells of Christmas! A tree this beautiful must have cost him plenty. A gesture like this is not something a mere friend would do."

So it was going to be holiday movie night with a side order of lecturing. Bloody fantastic. (Yeah, totally ignoring her use of Killian's colloquial phrasing, that doesn't mean anything at all.)

"Plus, you can't ignore how taken he is with Henry. Killian truly loves your kiddo and Henry loves him just as much. I'm not sorry to break it to you, but it genuinely appears and feels to be real with the man." Ruby adds from her perch on the oversized armchair.

Emma gazes upward praying for some relief, but try as she might, her friends words linger in the air and repeat in her head. Even if she could dispute the idea, everything they've said is exactly what she has been trying and failing to ignore for months, but she can't ignore the truth any longer.

Ever since Thanksgiving, she hasn't been sleeping well, too wrapped up in her unspoken emotions to get a decent night sleep. She and Killian have shared so much of themselves, personal and guarded self-disclosures she never thought she'd share with anyone ever again. She knows Killian and he knows her in return. Somehow, inexplicably, he has broken down her walls and she has made a place for him in her heart.

Despite the fact Killian will return in a few weeks when classes resume, she misses him and aches to talk with him, laugh with him, spend time with him. She wants to know how his visit back home is going, how he's getting along with his father. She wants to be there to offer him support and comfort.

Gaze still turned upward, Emma closes her eyes and silently admits to herself a truth she's been ruminating on that is long past over due – she is in love with Killian Jones.

She sits up and slams her beer bottle down on the coffee table in frustration, mentally kicking herself for deciding not to keep in touch over the break.

"Shit, I've fucked up."

Ruby snorts from across the room and lifts her beer in a toast, "You got that right."

Mary Margaret rolls her eyes at Ruby but faces Emma with an encouraging look. "Emma, what exactly are you saying?" She asks curiously, hope evident in her tone and posture.

Emma swallows and shuts her eyes before answering. The butterflies that have taken permanent residence in her belly swirl again at the memory of every conversation with Killian, every penetrating look, every joyful smile, every boisterous laugh, every comforting touch, and every shared tear. Her heart achingly wants as she reflects on Killian's straightforwardness with Henry, from his humorous jokes and playfulness, to his gentle but stern guidance with Henry only after first turning to her for permission.

"Emma?" Elsa gently prompts.

Emma exhales and opens her eyes, a tentative smile forming across her face. "I'm saying I've been a fool about Killian." A tear she hadn't realized was forming falls from her eye and she gently swipes it away, her smile more pronounced as she softly announces, "I'm in love with him."

Laughter abounds in the room, pillows are thrown in the air, and Emma gives into the cheer of it all, laughing as she once again declares, "I am in love with Killian Jones!"

Squeals of delight and laughter turn into shouts of "Thank God!" and "About time!" and of course Ruby's "Halle-fucking-lujah!"

The four women settle into the night, the movie long forgotten but drinks continuously refilled, as Emma finally allows herself to open up about her feelings for Killian, starting of course with that first fateful day in rain soaked clothes and a crappy cup of coffee.

-/-

For the rest of Killian's visit, he's bombarded with rules, regulations, protocol and the like. His father, Regina, and other advisors and members of parliament, ceaselessly list off and instruct him on the demands and requirements expected of him as king.

As the weeks drag on, he becomes a shell of himself. Rarely does he get a moment alone to think, to breath, to punch a whole through a wall. Purple bags begin to form under his eyes as sleep becomes non-existent. He rarely eats save for political lunches and dinners where it would be improper not to partake in the meal. He struggles to remain present and aware throughout diplomatic meetings, royal appearances, and photo ops, his mind constantly drifting to thoughts of Emma and Henry.

After one particular grueling meeting with parliament at the Christiansborg palace, Killian decides he's had enough and leaves for a desperately needed respite. As Killian and Robin make their way down Nørregade to visit one of their old favorite pubs, blinding flashes of light derail them.

Although he'd been accustomed to being hounded by paparazzi – whether leisurely strolling through the city, attending a political function, or during nights of wild partying and debauchery - the unexpected onslaught still catches him off guard.

"Prince Killian! Where have you been Prince Killian?"

"Prince Killian! Any new women in your life, your Highness?"

"How do you feel about the upcoming coronation, Prince Killian?"

With Robin in the lead, Killian pushes his way through the swarm of cameras and bodies. Vision speckled with dots and heart racing, he silently curses himself for not taking better precaution before stepping out, the anonymity and subdued pace of Storybrooke having spoiled him.

"Where will you be clubbing this evening your Highness?"

"Prince Killian, what do you think of being crowned king?"

Before Liam's death, Killian quietly accepted the paparazzis presence and handled them with 'good and respectful form' as his brother demonstrated. After Liam's death, dealing with the paparazzi depended on Killian's mood, good form be damned. He either ignored their presence, too stoned or sleep deprived to care, or he partook in physical scuffles if the desire to throw down arose after one too many drinks. On more than one occasion, the royal family paid retribution for Killian decking reporters and breaking cameras. But now, after years of being out of the public eye and having the privilege of privacy, the swarm of bodies and cameras is suffocating.

Camera flashes continue to blind Killian mercilessly as he and Robin struggle to make their way toward their vehicle at the end of the block, when one question in particular makes Killian stumble over his feet.

"What would Prince Liam say about the coronation, think he would have been disappointed just like the rest of us? After all, it should have been him."

Killian stops in the middle of the onslaught, blood pounding in his ears and hands balling into fists at his side. He turns his head, seeking out the bastard among the hordes of people, but Sidney Glass is already getting up in his face, voice recorder in hand.

Of fucking bloody course it would be Sidney Glass from The Mirror to instigate trouble. The tabloid writer took immense pleasure reporting on Killian's scandalous and unscrupulous behavior.

To make matters worse, the owner of The Mirror, Robert Gold, held a personal vendetta against the royal family after his wife, Milah, publicly filed for divorce soon after beginning an affair with Killian.

Killian, rebellious and in mourning, fell hard and fast for Milah. They took to the streets of Denmark by storm, partying and prancing around, rubbing their behavior in the noses of an embarrassed royal family and a chagrined tabloid owner. Glass, instructed to gather dirt on Milah to make the divorce favor Gold, was point on reporting on the couple. However, it didn't matter in the end. Killian was yanked from the public eye and shipped off to the states, leaving Milah to fight her husband and his pack of lawyers on her own.

Killian's only comfort came a few months after he was settled in Storybrooke. An email from Milah informing she had left Gold and Denmark behind, but to where she wouldn't disclose, only that she was happy and free. She wished him the best and hoped he too would find happiness again. He returned the sentiment and that was the last of it. Although he wished to abandon his duties and seek her out, longing for the promise of freedom, he resisted. Instead, he decided to stay and find his way back to the man he used to be, the man he was before Liam's passing.

Another flash of light assaults Killian's senses and he's torn from his memories back to the present and the infuriating presence of Glass.

"Prince Killian, what do you think of the king's decision to pass the crown? Surely he wishes it could have been passed to Prince Liam instead?" Glass inquires with an insulting smirk and tilt of his brow, voice recorder shoved under Killian's nose.

Killian's eyes darken into a death glare and any remaining self-control is lost as he forcefully shoves Glass away from him, effectively knocking the voice recorder to the ground. Before he can form a fist and do more damage, he's being pushed aside by Robin who roughly manhandles him into the backseat of the Land Rover that somehow has magically appeared. The shove isn't gentle, and Killian gashes his leg on the side of the car door before Robin tumbles inside after him.

"Buggering hell that was a close one. What took so long, mate?" Robin asks the driver as the vehicle pulls out onto the street.

Killian doesn't hear the driver's response and honestly doesn't care. Not the driver's fault they were accosted and Killian became forceful. That's all on him.

As the drive back to Amelienborg continues, Robin and the driver discuss the inevitable fallout no doubt awaiting them at the palace, but Killian tunes out of the conversation and lets his thoughts drift.

Not for the first time, he fantasizes about telling Emma the truth about himself. He imagines her taking the news well and jet setting off with Henry to be with him in Denmark. The thought is a happy one, until he imagines the more likely scenario of Emma running away and hating him for betraying her so thoroughly. After all, how could she possible accept a life of royal responsibility and run-ins with paparazzi after his deception? He knows Emma well enough to know the walls around her heart will fortify even stronger than before because of his deceit. For that, he prays for every kind of horror to befall him.

-/-

(January)

The weeks continue and before Killian realizes it, the winter sojourn ends and he is on a plane bound for the states - bound for the inevitable heartbreak that awaits in telling Emma the truth once and for all.

When he lands his phone chimes with an incoming text message.

You officially arrive stateside today so the no texting ban is lifted! (Thank God!) Happy belated Christmas and New Years! Here's a pic of the tree decorated as promised! I did most of the work, no matter what Henry will tell you. Hope you had a good flight, can't wait to see you! - ES

The swirls of emotion the simple message and picture evoke in him are bittersweet. Pushing down on the feelings of trepidation and sadness simmering within, Killian punches a few buttons on the phone, zooms in on the picture of Emma and Henry, and sets the picture as his lock screen's wallpaper. Smiling at the beautiful face of Emma and Henry's mischievous grin, Killian prays for a little more time with them.

Happy to be home love. Can't wait to see you and Henry as well. - KJ

Killian places his phone back in his jacket pocket and sets off with Robin to collect their luggage.