Chapter 3
12 years old
"Let's go for a picnic today, Killian," Emma stated as they sat at the breakfast table. She looked toward her mother for approval, who nodded her consent.
"Where do you plan to ride to?" her father asked, not so quick to just release his almost teenaged daughter and her best friend to their own devices.
"Oh, I don't know," Emma replied looking to Killian, "let's just grab some food from Cook, and ride."
"Ok," Killian answered hesitation coloring his voice and chancing a glance at David, who didn't looked thrilled at the answer.
"Why don't we all go," David suggested enthusiastically.
"David," Snow interjected, "we have things to attend to here today. Emma and Killian will be just fine with an escort."
"Thanks mom!" Emma jumped up from her seat, and grabbed Killian by the hand and dragged him away from the table.
They stopped by the kitchen to grab some fruits, bread, and cheese, along with a canteen for the both of them to share, she packed it all away in a satchel. Last she grabbed a linen to sit on, and then they headed out to the stables to saddle up.
"Where would you like to journey today, Princess," he asked.
"Don't call me that," she looked him dead in the eye. She didn't like when he blatantly pointed out the difference in their standing. She saw them as equals, and wouldn't be told otherwise by anyone, least of all Killian himself.
"Fine then, Emma, where would you like to go today," he emphasized her name.
"I don't know, let's start by going to visit Henry at the pond, and if we're lucky we'll be able to ditch whatever ponce they send with us," she said as she led Buttercup out of her stall.
Killian chuckled, "Sounds like a plan then," following behind her.
When they arrived to the pond a few minutes later, they both walked to the edge of the pond and within moments Henry was headed in their direction. Emma grabbed some bread from the satchel for Henry, and sat down to feed her bird.
"You can leave us August, we've decided to just stay and picnic here today," Emma said in her sweet but authoritative princess tone. And as she'd never pulled a fast one on this poor unsuspecting guard, he found no reason to argue.
"Yes, princess," he answered, turning his horse around and heading back toward the castle.
They stayed at the pond for a few more minutes, to make sure August didn't come back. Once they were sure he was gone, the two headed back to their horses and took off in a new direction of exploration.
An hour later found them further than they'd been before, as they came upon a small clearing in the forest.
"This is beautiful," she gasped. There were hundreds of middlemist flowers, she'd never seen so many in her life.
Killian sat on his horse, watching her, a strange feeling creeping into his chest, as she admired the field in awe.
"Quite beautiful," he said.
When she looked over to respond he was looking right at her, making her forget her thoughts. She blushed, feeling a bit light headed at the situation. She climbed down from Buttercup and began to walk toward the field, turning around to look at him again, "Aren't you coming?" she asked when she saw he hadn't moved.
He immediately dismounted and followed her. Walking to the middle of the field, she grabbed out the sheet and handed him one side to lay it out. They laid down looking up at the sky, it was one of their favorite games to compare images in the clouds. It was a peaceful day,as they laid side by side in companionable silence each lost in their own thoughts.
"Killian, do you think you'll ever fall in love?" she asked out of the blue.
He didn't answer her immediately, pondering his words, if he were honest he was halfway in love with her. Not that it mattered what he felt, "I hope to one day, what about you, Princess?" he couldn't help himself, subconsciously pointing out their difference again, at just the thought of being with her.
"I told you not to call me that," she groused.
"Why does it bother you when I call you Princess?"
"It's the way you say it, like you want me to remember that I'm a princess, as if I could forget," she added on sarcastically. She paused a beat, "And, I don't know if I'll ever fall in love, I don't know if I'll be allowed to."
"Why on earth not?" he laughed.
"I don't know if my parents will attempt to arrange a marriage like my cousin Elsa's parents did," she stated, her voice devoid of feeling.
"Why would your parents do that? They are the truest love in the land, why would they go and arrange a marriage for you?"
"I don't know, I just worry about it sometimes, okay, it's not anything they've said or done," she spoke defensively.
"Whoa, there lass, I'm not trying to upset you, why are you getting so worked up?" he questioned, placing his hand on her shoulder.
"I'm not upset," she denied, jerking her arm away.
He held his hands up in surrender, "If you say so."
"I do," she affirmed, huffing slightly at the direction the conversation had taken.
He chuckled at her antics, shaking his head.
"What are you giggling about," she glared at him.
"First off, I do not giggle. Second, if I didn't know any better I'd say you already have feelings for someone, and you're afraid your parents won't allow it, why?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about," she denied, turning her head from his to look up at the clouds again. "I'm hungry," she grumbled, changing the subject. She sat up to unpack the contents of the satchel.
They ate leisurely and talked about nothing in particular. The tension that had been building dissipated, much to Emma's delight. She had no intention of telling Killian that she liked him, liked him. He would never let her live that down.
When they'd cleaned up from their lunch and packed everything away, they decided to take a walk through the field to gather up a bouquet of middlemist. As they were gathering them it began to sprinkle lightly. "We should get going before it starts to pour on us," he suggested.
"It'll be fine," Emma rolled her eyes, "are you afraid you'll mess up your hair?" she teased.
He just laughed in response, glad that his funny girl was back, "Come on, Emmaswan, your father will have my head if anything happens to you."
"It's just a little rain!" she argued, but acceded, by heading back toward Buttercup. She placed the middlemist into the saddlebag for safe keeping. "Race ya'," she called to him.
"I think we should take it slow, the rain is picking up," he called back, brushing his wet hair from his forehead.
"Afraid you'll lose?" she challenged.
At that he hopped on his horse, and trotted up beside her, "If you insist," he conceded attempting a half bow while astride his horse.
At that they took off into the woods, to make their way back home. There was something freeing and mind clearing about flying through the forest, trees blowing by in a blur, brisk wind caressing their cheeks, droplets of rain splashing down.
Suddenly, it all came to a screeching halt for Emma as Buttercup skidded in her tracks, something spooking her. She bucked up, sending Emma to the ground, she threw her left arm out bracing for impact.
Killian had, of course, been following behind her, and saw the whole thing, as if in slow motion. He could hear the sickening crunch as she landed full force on her hand, her forearm bending at an abnormal angle. He pulled tight on Westley's reins, and jumped down sprinting the few steps to Emma. When he got there, she was curled up in a ball, cradling her arm.
"Emma, love, are you okay?" he knelt down beside her.
She only nodded her head, refusing to let the pain show through in her voice. He called me love, the random thought popped into her mind as she stared at him, while he assessed their situation. It was absurd given her current predicament, but she made note of it none the less.
"Come on, let's get you up," he placed her right hand on his shoulder for support, then he situated his hands at her waist and stood them both up and navigated her to his horse.
"What are you doing," she questioned.
"You're not riding back on Buttercup, you can't even hold both the reins. What if she spooks again? We're riding together," he decided.
Emma stared at him blankly for a moment before silently agreeing.
"First, I'm going to need to wrap up your arm to keep it steady, it's going to hurt," he explained, reaching into the satchel for the sheet they'd sat on earlier. He tore a long strip off, and put her arm into a makeshift sling.
"Now, this is going to be tricky, I'm going to get on first then help you up," he said, saddling up. He reached down, taking Emma's good hand, "Now put your foot into the stirrup, you lift and I'll pull."
Even through her pain, she was amazed at Killian taking charge of the situation. She was so used to him letting her lead in all things, she'd never seen the assertive side of him before.
Once they were both atop Westley, Killian held one side of the reins in his left hand, and put the other side in her right hand,the he wrapped his free arm around Emma's waist to keep her steady. It wasn't the perfect rescue, but it was the best he could manage, his main goal was trying not to hurt her further. They started toward home at a snail's pace, in order to keep from jostling her arm. Buttercup followed behind, her reins tied to Westley's saddlebag.
The air had become chilly from the rain, a heavy fog setting in. They were both shivering, the only warmth coming from each other.
Emma tried to calm the butterflies in her stomach, born from this foreign feeling of having Killian so close to her. She settled back into his chest allowing her head to rest on his shoulder. Once the initial shock wore off though, the discomfort set in. Emma's breathing became labored as she tried to muscle through the throbbing pain sending a radiating shock through her left side.
Although Killian couldn't see the tears welling up in her eyes, he could sense her agony from the tense of her body, and the staccato rhythm of each inhale, followed by exhale. "How bad is it," he whispered nervously.
"I can't-," she spoke, voice trembling, "I can't even describe the pain."
He hugged her middle in an attempt to comfort her, then kissed her cheek, "I'm so sorry."
"Why are you sorry," she ground out, "it was my stupid idea to race in the rain, and my horse who spooked. You had nothing to do with me falling."
"I don't know, I'm just sorry that it happened to you, I wish it were me," he confessed.
They rode back to the stables in silence after that, Emma trying to concentrate on keeping her arm in place, and keeping her tears at bay. Once undercover of the stable, Killian dismounted and helped Emma down.
"Thank you," she spoke softly.
"For what," he asked incredulously, scratching behind his ear, "anyone would've done the same."
She leaned in quickly and kissed him, before she lost her nerve, her eyes squeezed shut. It was a chaste press of her lips to his, once then twice. It was over before he could process it. She threw her good arm around his neck in an attempt at a hug. Coming to his senses he gently wrapped both arms around her, not knowing where her affection was coming from.
"Thank you… for riding with me today, for being my best friend, for taking care of me. It was a wonderful day, right up until this," she winced as she tried to lift her bad arm. She held it across her waist, supporting it with her right arm.
"You're welcome, Emma," was all he could come up with, still in a bit of shock, "let's get you inside." He stood on her good side, wrapping his arm around her waist, and his other hand under her right arm to add support for her left.
Where it had only taken them an hour to get to the middlemist field, it had taken almost three to get home. They slowly made their way to the castle, nervous about the homecoming they'd receive after being out much later than normal. The two of them walked in looking like drowned rats, Killian half supporting Emma, while she clutched her arm.
"We were so worried when the storm-"
"Why are you holding her so closely, that's-"
King and Queen looked at each other, Snow's eyes narrowed at David's overprotective father act, when just moments ago they'd both been fraught with worry.
"We were so worried for you both when the storm started," alarm present in Snow's voice, "this is exactly why we sent August along, speaking of which, where is August?" she questioned.
"I, ummm, I may have told him we were staying at the pond and sent him away," Emma mumbled.
"You've been out galavanting the Enchanted Forest without the proper protection? You are in serious trouble young lady!" Mary Margaret admonished.
"What is wrong with your arm," her father questioned.
Killian immediately dropped his arm from below hers, but kept the other around her waist, much to David's chagrin.
"I think it's broken," Emma started.
"What...how?" David sputtered, "you're supposed to take care of her," he accused looking at Killian.
Killian immediately bowed his head, feeling properly admonished. I should've told her no, it is partly my fault he thought, in regard to the race.
"DAAAD!" Emma spoke up, "this is not Killian's fault! I lied to August, I insisted on staying even after the rain started, it was my dumb idea to race, and my horse that spooked and threw me off," she finished in her dramatic articulation.
"He's right, Emma," Killian piped in, "I didn't have to accept your challenge."
"Oh my gosh Ki-" Emma started as she exasperatedly made to throw both hands in the air. She realized her mistake immediately, crying out in pain. Killian tightened his hold around her waist, trying to keep her upright.
The pain was so intense, she started to feel woozy, "I'm going to...I'm going to pass-"
The blame game came to an abrupt halt then, Killian trying to keep her upright, David rushing in to pick her up, Snow's hands over her mouth in horror at seeing her daughter pass out from pain.
David carried her over to the throne and set her down, calling for water to be brought.
They were all hovered around her when she came to a few minutes later. She was a little disoriented at first, but then the pain brought her back to reality.
"Honey you need to lay down, I've sent for the alchemist to bring something for the pain. Then we can see about having it set and splinted. In the meantime no more adventuring for a while," her mother bid.
"I'm not lying down until dad says it's not Killian's fault, and I know he's not mad at him," Emma argued.
David's eyes almost popped from his head at his daughter's demands, he opened his mouth to speak, but had no words. He couldn't get mad at her for defending her friend. He closed his mouth, then opened it again, floundering about.
"I think what your father means to say is, we know it's not Killian's fault, and he is not mad at anyone. We were both very worried for the two of you, and sometimes our emotions run high when we are scared, right David?" Snow reasoned, looking to her husband to make sure he was on board.
"Yes dear," he agreed, then added, "however, there was some wrongdoing on both your parts, and we will need to deal with that."
"Aye, highness, I understand," Killian answered.
"Yes, dad," Emma sighed.
"Let's get you both fed, and then up to bed for you both," Snow said, the motherly inflection returning, "we'll discuss this more tomorrow after everyone has reflected and calmed down from the day's events," she reasoned.
Both children complied, wordlessly, they were after all hungry and exhausted.
Killian laid in his bed that evening, reflecting on the day. He felt disappointed, and ashamed, and even though the Queen had explained they didn't think he was at fault, it didn't stop him from blaming himself. He'd let her get hurt, the princess, he couldn't shake the thought of something more terrible happening. What if she'd gotten hurt permanently, or hit her head, or died, he thought. He couldn't help where his mind was going, everyone that was supposed to be a part of his life was gone, he couldn't bear it if she was too. Distant memories of his mother floated in his head, his self loathing always bringing forth thoughts of her telling him he could achieve anything, because he knew that wasn't true. A broken sob escaped him then, not knowing what to do with these thoughts. Even with the royal family there to take care of him, he sometimes felt a fathomless sense of isolation, this was one of those times. He rolled himself over and buried his face in the pillow, he didn't want anyone hearing him.
There was a knock at the door making Killian jump. He wiped his face on the pillow, and took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself. "Come in," he said in a steady voice, surprising himself.
The King entered his room, "May I come in and talk with you, Killian?" he asked benevolently, even though he didn't really need permission.
"Of course, highness," Killian replied.
"First off, let's stop with the formality, I've asked you to call me David," he spoke gently, it wasn't lost on him that Killian only reverted to this formality when he was feeling lacking. "Next, I wanted to talk to you about safety-"
"I know I put Emma in danger today, and I promise it will never happen again," Killian interrupted.
Holding up his hands in a motion to stop, David continued, "I know that Emma is more than capable of putting herself in danger, and did so today. She told me everything that happened, and I know none of it was your idea. She told me that you actually advised her against racing. I know you did not put her in danger, you are a great friend to her, Killian, and I am grateful for that."
Killian wasn't sure how to respond to that, and looked down at his hands fidgeting in his lap.
"What I came to talk to you about is the safety of you and Emma. You are both too young to be out riding in the forest alone. Emma's royal status puts her at increased risk in some ways, yes, but Mary Margaret and I would be devastated if anything happened to either of you. No individual life is more valuable than another."
Killian tried to swallow the lump in his throat at David's words, "Do you mean that," he asked shakily.
"Of course I do," David stated firmly, wrapping an arm around Killian bringing him in closer, "you are part of this family," he finished with an audible shake to his own timbre.
Killian turned his body toward the King and hugged him in a full embrace, not knowing how to convey how much David's words meant to him, he just held on.
By the afternoon of the next day Emma hadn't seen Killian, it felt weird. She'd been confined to her room in order to let the bone set, the doctor didn't want her moving it at all. She was already bored to tears, Emma did not take bed rest well. By the morning of the second day, she'd had enough, she missed his company. She waited until after she'd been served her breakfast and fussed over by her mother, then she peeked out her door to make sure the coast was clear. She made her way down the hall to his room, "Why haven't you been to visit me you bonehead!" Emma exclaimed gracelessly.
When Killian didn't move she decided to wake him up in the most annoying manner she could manage given her arm. She tapped at his leg rhythmically, while repeating, "Killian wake up, Killian wake up, Killian wake up…" and so on, but still nothing. Her initial irritation, began to give way to worry. Why wasn't he waking up. She tried shaking him next, and when that didn't work she ran to his door and screamed for her mother.
"Mama! Come quick, Killy won't wake up," she cried out, "Mama, please hurry!"
Her mother came running down the hall, "Emma, calm dow-"
"Mama, he won't wake up," she sobbed tears running down her face.
"Emma, sweetie, calm down, he's sick, he had a very high fever, the alchemist gave him something to help him sleep," Mary Margaret spoke soothingly to her hysterical daughter, "Turn around, look at him."
Upon her inspection his cheeks were rosy, and his forehead was covered in a layer of sweat. His breathing was steady if a little raspy. "What happened," she stuttered out, her body still hiccuping from her panicked crying.
"He caught a cold after being out in the rain and overexerting himself," she stated.
"Oh, no," Emma gasped, "this is all my fault."
"Maybe it's just a subtle hint to stop taking risks?" Mary Margaret tried a subtle hint herself.
"Can I please stay with him?" she asked, eyes wide.
"It won't do to have you both sick," the queen answered, "as soon as his fever breaks, you can visit him."
"Okay."
"I mean it young lady, I don't need you both sick!" Mary Margaret warned.
"I promise, Mom" Emma sulked, turning around to walk back to her room.
"Oh, I see I'm back to mom when you don't get your way," she teased her daughter.
Emma turned around, "I promise, Mama, and please take good care of him."
"I will," Mary Margaret promised, giving her a half hug, to keep from jostling her arm.
The next morning Mary Margaret let her daughter know that Killian's fever had broken during the night, and she could go to visit him.
He woke to Emma sitting at the foot of his bed.
"Good morning, sleepyhead," she smiled cheerily at seeing him awake.
"I ha-," he stopped to clear his scratchy throat.
Emma was immediately up and pouring him a glass of water, one handedly.
He reached for it and drank thirstily, clearing his throat again, "I should be taking care of you," he rolled his eyes at his self perceived weakness.
"Why, cause I'm a girl?" she deadpanned.
"No, because you broke your arm!" he exclaimed.
"I'll be fine," she said, "what were you saying when you first woke up?"
He had to think for a moment, "Ah! I had the strangest dream that you came to my room and were yelling at me about not coming to visit you, and I was trying so hard to tell you that I was sick, but I couldn't speak for some reason. Then you started beating on my leg to wake up, then you were crying because I wouldn't wake up. It was so odd," he shook his head in bewilderment.
Emma burst into a fit of giggles.
"What? What's so funny?" he questioned, ears going pink with embarrassment that she might be laughing at him for dreaming of her. She might be laughing at the thought of crying for him.
"That wasn't a dream, Killian," she answered, blushing at her admission that she had in fact yelled, and cried, "I did come in and yell at you about not coming to see me. Then I tried to wake you up again and again, and you didn't even move. I guess I kind of panicked," she said with a self deprecating chuckle.
"Serves you right for scaring me with that fall you took," he teased.
"Shut up," she laughed, pushing his shoulder.
"So how much longer till I'll be able to challenge you to a duel," Killian asked, in lieu of questioning how long she was out of commission.
"Oh, please," Emma scoffed, "I could beat you with one arm tied behind my back!" she challenged.
"Is that so," he narrowed his eyes at her, "as tempting as that challenge is, we will just have to wait until your arm is healed, I'm not taking any chances."
She rolled her eyes at her responsible friend, but knew he was absolutely right.
Over the next couple days Emma helped nurse him back to health, and then for the next couple months Killian took over and helped Emma. Mostly he alleviated the extreme boredom. They read through several of the epic novels David had in his study, they sat in the gardens and made up stories about the staff, they took on some extra studies, making it a competition of sorts, quizzing each other. After several weeks, Emma was allowed some physical activities again, within reason. They walked almost daily to see Henry, and took up the art of one-handed sword fighting. Neither brought up the kiss, Killian assumed it was meant as a sign of friendship, while Emma prefered not to think too much about it.
