In Their Honor
CS Genre: Lieutenant Duckling
"A lovely night, a lovely night! A finer night you know you'll never see. You meet your prince, a charming prince, as charming as a prince will ever be. The stars in a hazy heaven tremble above you while he is whispering: "Darling I love you". You say goodbye, away you fly, but on your lips you keep a kiss. All your life you dream of this lovely, lovely night."
-Rogers and Hammerstein's Cinderella
The first time Lieutenant Killian Jones, Crown Prince of Camelot, danced with Emma Swan, Princess of Misthaven, it was at a ball in his honor. The usual trepidation, uneasiness and sorrow descended on Killian as he thought of his new title and the reason he now held it. His brother, Liam, the former Crown Prince, had been gone for six months now, and Killian still missed him with an ache that was nearly physical. Liam left him big shoes to fill, and he had no idea if he was up to the task.
Killian looked carefully from side to side as he silently pushed open the door that led from the kitchens to the herb garden. Seeing no one around to stop him, he stepped firmly outside and marched resolutely toward the curtain wall. When his heart was so conflicted and his anxiety so pressing, it was only the sea that that could calm and soothe him. It called to him, tugged at him like the tide pulled the waters to the shore.
Another pang punched at Killian as he thought of the sea, thought of the plans he and Liam had to sail the realms. Now, as Arthur Pendgragon's heir, Killian was forced to put his dreams of sailing aside to take up the mantle of future king of Camelot.
Twilight was descending as Killian took firm steps toward his destination. Pinks and purples, oranges and yellows melded to paint the canvas of the late afternoon sky. He had little more than an hour before he must return to the castle to prepare for the ball celebrating his birthday.
Killian took a deep breath and slowly released it. Yes, it was a ball for his birthday, but he was well aware it was so much more. As the crown prince, it was vital he marry and produce heirs, and tonight he was to meet the woman his parents had hand-picked for him, the woman they hoped he would fall in love with and choose for his bride. Princess Emma of Misthaven. Quite simply, he had no idea what to expect. It was said that Princess Emma was beautiful but headstrong, a woman who knew her mind and had no trepidation about sharing it.
Killian had no quibble with strong, independent women. His mother, Queen Guinevere, was, after all, one herself. But what if this Princess Emma disliked him? What if she decided to vent her choler on him? He'd had limited experience with the fairer sex; Liam had been the one all the ladies of court flocked to, and he seemed to know instinctively how to act, what to say. Killian wished with everything in him that Liam was around to lead him through these treacherous waters.
A sudden blur of white sped past Killian's gaze, and when he turned a curious gaze in the direction, all his breath left his body in a whoosh. There, standing before him was a veritable angel, chest heaving as she caught her breath, head swiveling from side to side frantically. She looked like an animal caught in a trap.
"Can I be of assistance, my lady?" Killian asked, solicitously, reaching out a tentative hand to her arm. When the angel turned to face him and he saw her fully for the first time, his heart stuttered and then pounded out a rhythm he'd scarce imagined possible.
She was, quite simply, the most stunningly beautiful woman Killian had ever seen in all his years. Dressed in a long, flowing white gown with sleeves that belled and flowed gracefully with her every movement, with a garland of white flowers crowning a glorious mane of long, wavy blonde hair that hung loose along her shoulders and down her back, she quite literally took his breath away.
Her green eyes shown bright with surprise. Surprise that, to Killian's dismay quickly turned to decided annoyance. She wrenched her arm free from his light touch.
"Really?" she asked, her arms crossing against her chest. "Does my mother have spies everywhere? I'm not gone two minutes before she sends the Camelot Navy after me?!"
She stepped forward, poking a lovely, perfectly manicured finger into his chest. "I'll let you know, Lieutenant, I have no intention of attending that ball. I will not be sold off in marriage like some kind of prized steed. I don't care how 'eligible' Prince Killian might be."
A slow grin spread across Killian's face as the woman's words sunk in, and it became altogether apparent just who this glorious, wrathful angel was.
All his life he'd heard tales of love at first sight but he'd always scoffed at the notion, believing it was nothing but the fanciful stuff of fairy tales. But seeing Princess Emma of Misthaven standing before him in all her irate glory, he began to rethink his opinion.
If he wasn't already in love with her he was dangerously close. And if he didn't think fast, this lovely creature may quite literally walk right out of his life.
"You seem quite decided, love," he said, moving forward, a lock of dark hair falling rakishly across his forehead. He absently swatted it away. "But my question remains. Can I be of assistance?"
She stood still for a moment, seeming to consider his question. Finally she nodded decisively. "Show me the way out of this castle. I need to find an exit where I can slip out unnoticed."
"Aye," Killian said slowly, dragging out the single syllable, "I could do that."
"But?"
"But, as you deduced, it's not in my best interest to simply return to the castle without you in tow. What would the lady Queen of Misthaven say to that? Bad form, aye?"
The fire flashed from her eyes as she moved to step past him. "Fine; if you won't help me, then step aside. I'll find an unguarded door on my own."
"My lady, wait," he said, reaching out to once more grasp her arm.
She spun on him. "Unhand me Lieutenant. You'll not dissuade me, and I warn you, you will not like what happens if you try."
"Very well, Princess," Killian said, hastily pulling his arm back, "I'll not detain you, but I have a request, a proposition of sorts, for you."
She glared at him, one eyebrow raised in annoyed question. "And what, pray tell might that be?""
"Come," he said, "sit with me. Allow me to attempt to dissuade you from your course. If, afterwards, your plans remain unchanged, I will personally escort you to a hidden door where you can make your escape."
She fixed a skeptical look on him for long moments and finally nodded. "Very well. You have ten minutes, but I warn you. I have no intention of changing my mind."
"As you wish," Killian said, extending his arm. She took it tentatively, her hand a light weight against his uniformed arm. His heart pounded at the touch, a jolt seeming to travel from the spot straight to his heart.
Killian led Princess Emma toward his mother's rose garden, the most beautiful—and most romantic—location in all of Camelot. Spying the stone bench where it was said his father had proposed to his mother, he led her to it and seated her as the last rays of the sun disappeared from the horizon.
"Why, Princess?" he began. "Why have you only now decided to run? Why agree to come to my land at all? Why dress for the ball if you had no intention of attending?"
She blew out an exasperated breath, and looked out across the rose bushes. "Because I had no idea what was truly going on. My parents, Queen Snow and King David, told me only that we traveled to Camelot for diplomatic business. I had no idea they meant to marry me off."
"And how did you discover their true nefarious purpose?"
She smiled, and it lit her face like the sun breaking forth from the clouds. "My mother cannot keep a secret to save her life. As we sat in my dressing chamber and she helped style my hair, she let the deep, dark secret slip."
He smiled back. "I see. And I take it you have no intention of going along with their plans?"
She barked out a laugh. "Hardly. I have no doubt that this 'Prince Killian', whoever he may be is nothing but another in a long line of empty-headed, pompous jackasses that my parents have paraded before me."
Killian coughed to cover his sudden chuckle. "And there's no possibility Prince Killian will exceed your expectations?"
"Not likely. I've seen them all over the past few months and they're all the same. Desperately interested in the power marrying me would bring them. Not even remotely interested in me. The real me. I'd be little more than a decorative ornament on their arms." She fell silent for a moment, eyes staring sightlessly over the flowers before her. Suddenly she turned toward him. "I understand my parents' reasoning, of course. The Evil Queen is amassing her forces and it's important my kingdom make alliances with others who can come to our aid. It's just…of all people, I had hoped my parents could understand the importance of love in making a decision like this. After all, my mother was a bandit on the run from the Evil Queen and my father was a shepherd. They met and fell in love, shared True Love's Kiss and everything, and I just wanted the same for myself."
Killian took her hand and drew in a sharp breath, amazed at his boldness. When she didn't pull away, a warmth blossomed in his chest, a warmth that entirely melted away the early evening coolness. "Perhaps they do understand, love. Perhaps they believe you can find with Prince Killian the same love they found with each other."
She shrugged. "Maybe, but even if I can, I want to choose him and be chosen by him, not just be thrown into a relationship that more or less amounts to a business transaction. You have no idea what it's like to have to give up your dreams for the life that's been chosen for you."
"You might be surprised, Princess."
She turned toward him then, her eyes searching his, unspoken questions in their emerald depths.
"Aye," he answered, no longer able to meet her gaze.. "I'd hopes to sail the realms with my brother, see new lands, chase adventure, but he's gone now, and my life has changed entirely."
She squeezed his hand, and he looked back at her. "I'm so sorry for your loss."
My loss? Killian puzzled to himself. What is she talking about? And then sudden understanding flared, and he chuckled. "Liam hasn't passed on, lass. He merely married and moved from the kingdom."
Killian's mind wandered back to the day, nearly a year past, when Queen Elsa of Arendelle first made her way to the Camelot court. Liam was smitten from the moment he set eyes on her. After an ardent, hasty courtship, the pair had married and returned to her kingdom. Her land was in turmoil, someone named Hans trying to usurp the throne along with his twelve brothers. It was necessary that the newly married pair reside in and rule over Arendelle. Thus the reason Killian was now the crown prince of Camelot.
"But you still miss him," Princess Emma observed, "I can see it in your eyes."
"More than you could ever know."
Princess Emma's hand dropped from his and then moved up to cup his cheek, her thumb caressing the stubbled skin. "I'm sorry, Lieutenant."
Killian didn't know how it happened, but one moment he was looking into her lovely eyes, and the next he was leaning forward, caressing her lips with his own. It was a short kiss, over in the blink of an eye, but at the touch of her soft lips to his, fire shot through his entire system and he knew he would never be the same.
When he pulled back, he saw a delicate pink shading her cheeks. He reached up to scratch behind his ear, looking away in embarrassment. "I apologize for my forwardness, Princess."
She turned his head to face her. "You've no need to be; I wanted you to kiss me."
His heart raced, the urge to kiss her again—this time far more thoroughly—nearly overwhelming him. Probably best he put a bit of distance between them.
"Well," he said, getting to his feet and offering her a hand to do the same, "I'd wager my ten minutes are up. Still determined to flee your fate, my lady?"
She smiled up at him. "Maybe attending the ball wouldn't be the worst thing in the realm. You'll be there? You'll dance with me?"
He smiled. "That, I believe, I can guarantee."
Emma took a deep breath as she returned to her chamber—to her highly disappointed mother. Perhaps she should feel more ashamed of her actions, more dread of her mother's reaction, more defiant in the face of her parents' plans, but the fact was, all she could feel was a quickening of her heart, a smile draping her lips at the memory of her stolen moments with the lieutenant.
The lieutenant. She didn't even know his name; hadn't bothered to ask, but the butterflies fluttered in her stomach at the thought of the handsome man—the very handsome man—and how he had skillfully talked her into staying for the ball. She'd felt an immediate, almost magnetic pull to him from the moment he first stopped her headlong flight. And then when he'd kissed her…clichéd though it may sound, it felt like magic surging through her veins. There had been young men she'd fancied in years past; occasionally she'd even stolen quick, heated kisses, but never had she felt anything like she'd felt in the brief moment her lieutenant's lips were pressed to hers.
"Emma, I thought we were beyond this, beyond your tendency to run from your problems," Queen Snow said with a disapproving frown, pulling Emma's mind away from her much-too-brief dalliance.
"I know mother," Emma said, dropping her eyes, and running her hand along the satiny skirt of her dress. "I apologize. It's just…I'm just tired of the constant parade of eligible princes. If I am to marry, I want it to be to a man I love, a man I choose."
Queen Snow raised Emma's chin with a gentle finger. Love and compassion shown from her eyes. "Oh, Emma," she said gently, "it will be your choice. Your father and I love you beyond anything on earth and we only wish to see you happy. Prince Killian is a good man. Your father met him on a previous diplomatic mission, and he can't speak highly enough of him. We genuinely believe Killian will win your heart. That being said, if you truly find you have no interest in exploring a relationship with him, your father and I will abide by your decision."
"Even with the Evil Queen on the move?"
Snow looked into the distance; her eyes staring sightlessly. "You know, darling, I believe my stepmother is beginning to soften. There are rumors she met an outlaw, a widower with a young son. If the rumors are to believed, they've fallen in love, and that love has changed her. Perhaps building alliances is not so necessary after all. Perhaps I might yet reconcile with Regina."
Snow turned to look back at her daughter, her eyes filled with the earnest intensity Emma had seen from her so many times. "But even if that were not the case, it wouldn't matter. You are our daughter and we love you. We would never insist you enter into a loveless marriage. When you marry, if you marry, we want it to be because you've found the true love of your life, not because we're pressuring you."
Impulsively, Emma leaned forward and hugged the queen, love for her parents overwhelming her. "Thank you mother."
Snow returned the embrace, and then leaned back, keeping her hands on her daughter's shoulders. "I only ask that you give Prince Killian a chance. Don't dismiss him out of hand. Give him a chance to prove himself worthy of you."
Emma nodded. "I'll give him a chance."
She would give the prince a chance, for her parents' sake if for nothing else, but she knew in her heart there was only one man, one lieutenant, who had the possibility of winning her heart tonight.
Night descended quickly, the stars twinkling merrily just outside the chamber window. The clock chimed the hour, and Emma felt a flutter of excitement as she realized the ball was due to begin at any moment.
"Shall we?" Snow asked, getting to her feet and offering Emma her hand.
Emma took a deep breath and then nodded. The two women stepped from the dressing chamber, stopping at the top of the magnificent staircase leading to the ball room as the majordomo prepared to announce their arrival.
"There they are, Emma," Snow said, leaning over to whisper in Emma's ear. "Your father and Prince Killian. Looks like they're anxiously waiting for us."
Emma scanned the glittering assembly until her eyes landed on her father and the man standing to his right.
She stopped in her tracks, her heart stuttering and then beginning to race.
It was him.
He'd changed, his lieutenant's uniform for a red vest and a long, quilted black duster; his hair was rakishly tousled. He looked more like a pirate than a prince, but there was no doubt. This man with his piercing blue eyes, midnight black hair, and soft, reddish stubble was the man she'd met in the garden. This was her lieutenant.
"I present to you Queen Snow and Princess Emma of Misthaven" the majordomo called out in a firm voice as the mother and daughter slowly descended toward their waiting men.
Emma caught the prince's eye as she slowly walked, and the look she saw there took her breath away. Tenderness, admiration, affection, a hint of mischief. She couldn't have looked away if her life depended on it.
"My lady," he said in a low, intimate voice as he took her hand and gently brought it to his lips, "it's a pleasure to see you again."
"You…" she stuttered. "You're Prince Killian."
He sketched a deep bow, his hands spread before him, his lips stretched in a teasing grin. "The empty-headed, pompous jackass himself."
Emma, covered her flaming face with one hand. "Oh my gods, I can't believe I said that to you! What were you thinking, letting me go on and on like that, making an utter fool of myself?"
"You did nothing of the sort, love," Killian said, the teasing grin making way for a genuine smile. "You merely gave me the opportunity to make the acquaintance of one of the loveliest and most fascinating women I've ever seen. You allowed me to present myself as simply Killian; not the crown prince; not the man your parents wished for you to marry; just Killian."
The orchestra struck up a slow tune and couples began to take their places on the dance floor. "What do you say, princess?" Killian asked, smiling down at her and extending a hand. "Shall we have that dance I promised you? I assure you the choice is yours. This dance and all the rest. Whatever becomes of us, it will be up to you as much as it is to me."
Emma reached forward and took his waiting hand. "My choice is you. I'd love to have this dance. As for what comes next…I have a feeling our story is far from over."
The second time Lieutenant Killian Jones, Crown Prince of Camelot danced with Emma Swan, Princess of Misthaven and new Crown Princess of Camelot, it was at a ball in their honor. After six months of fervent courtship, she'd consented to take his hand in marriage. And so now, with their family and friends surrounding them, they came together for the first of many dances as husband and wife. As his wife took his hand and twirled through their first dance, full skirt and belled sleeves billowing out behind her, as Liam stood nearby, a very pregnant Queen Elsa on his arm, as Emma's parents and his own stood to the side beaming at their blissfully united children, Killian came to the firm conclusion that even heaven couldn't hold more happiness.
Notes:
-Happy Friday! If the sneak peeks (and various other spoilers) are any indication, it looks like we'll be sailing into angsty waters with the upcoming episode, so I thought I'd make sure you all had your fortifying dose of fluff going in. (And yeah, I blew past my normal Fluffy Friday 1000 word limit before I was halfway through the first scene. *shrug* C'est la vie.)
-Yeah, I was going for full-on "fairy tale princess" romantic with this one, lol. I just couldn't help myself! That Camelot ball last Sunday was the stuff that dreams are made of (well at least until Sir Percival got all vengeful and nearly killed Robin). As such, I couldn't resist quoting my favorite non-Disney fairy tale musical at the top.
-This story was inspired by a lovely post and gif by melissa-majoria on Tumblr. If you want to check it out to get a visual aid (or just to see it because it's fantastic), check out my Tumblr page (whimsicallyenchantedrose) and type "fluffy fridays" into my search bar. I'll have a link to the gifset at the end of my Tumblr version of this chapter.