A/N: I'm so glad you all are enjoying this story! I've gotten a few reviews asking why I'm keeping it so close to the movie.
Well, to answer your question simply: Because I want to.
I know it seemed convoluted for me to sit here and give them the same bits of dialogue, but it's so magical and wonderful, and placing Emma and Killian into these characters is a dream for me. If you don't like the way I'm writing it, you don't have to read it. I won't judge you, I won't say anything. If you don't like it, don't read it.
Anyways, enjoy this chapter! It's probably my favorite!
Emma took a deep breath as she stood in front of her mirror, smoothing out the large, blue dress that was designed just for the ball.
It was beautiful (even if she thought the corset might kill her), and it reminded her of her mother-the one she barely got to know. It had small butterflies all along the beautiful tulle, and Emma loved the way it looked.
She felt beautiful.
"Almost ready, Princess?" Graham teased, walking up behind her.
"Yes." She sighed with a smile.
"Do you think he'll be here?"
"I don't know." Emma replied simply.
"Fate works in interesting ways, Em. You'd be surprised." Graham smiled, "Besides, he'd be crazy not to think you're beautiful."
She smiled to him, nudging his shoulder before following out of her room.
"Do you really think he's here?" She asked, wringing her fingers together.
"I do." Graham smiled as they walked down the corridor.
"Did you see him?"
"I have not, but that does not mean that he isn't here, waiting for you like every other man that has come pouring into the palace in the last ten minutes." Graham said, "Now, go."
He gave her a gentle shove out onto the small balcony where her father was standing, alongside Regina.
"Oh, my princess. You look beautiful." Her father smiled, spinning her once and making her smile.
"Thank you." She smiled.
"Now, Emma, meet the Prince of Zaragosa," Regina interrupted, showing Emma a thin, lanky man with a cheeky smile, "He'll be crowned King when his father abdicates the throne in a few months."
Emma curtsied to him, and he bowed.
"Princess Emma." She introduced herself with a fake smile.
"Prince Walsh." He smiled.
Emma sucked in a deep breath and listened to him talk for a few minutes before he finally went away.
From then on, all she could focus on was finding that man.
"Emma, you're looking for him, aren't you?" Her father whispered, snapping from her focus.
"What? No, no, just looking at all of the people who've showed up." Emma offered.
"Well, your first dance is about to start, so you ought to get downstairs." Regina said, to which Emma nodded.
She supposed that, perhaps, he wasn't coming. Not tonight.
Emma followed Regina down the long flight of stairs, faking a smile for every man who turned to look at her.
It was then that Emma looked up and saw the man, across the ballroom, a smile on his lips.
She smiled wider and walked through the crowd, the people parting for her and her mystery man to finally meet in the center of the ballroom.
"It's you, isn't it?" He smiled breathlessly.
"Just so." She smiled in response before holding her hand out for him.
"I do not believe you mentioned that you were the Princess."
"I do not believe you mentioned you were a prince, either." Emma grinned, causing him to chuckle, "May I have this dance?"
"Aye. You may." He replied, cautiously moving his hand to her waist as she took his other hand in hers. At the touch, Emma felt a spark she'd never felt with anyone else.
They started dancing slowly, simply moving back and forth.
"Everyone's looking at you." Emma whispered to him.
"Believe me, love," He smiled, "They're all looking at you."
She felt her cheeks redden as he pulled her closer, their dance soon enveloping much more space as they twirled and twirled across the ballroom. Everything felt so natural with him, with this man she'd met all those days earlier, in the woods.
She loved him.
His blue eyes held her gaze as they continued their dance, and though she knew he was happy, Emma could see the pain behind his eyes.
He was a man of loss, it seemed.
"You're very good at this." She noted with a smile.
"Dancing is fairly easy, your Highness." He whispered, "So long as you pick a partner who knows what he's doing."
She couldn't help but smile at that, nearly shrieking when he lifted her to twirl, her skirt fanning out and blocking her view of the crowd.
This man was what she'd been looking for all of these years.
The song came to a close, and once they stopped moving, their chests were nearly flesh against each other, both breathing heavily from their bout of dancing.
"Could I speak with you in private?" Emma asked.
"Of course, Princess." He nodded, following her from the ballroom and into a private room.
Emma dismissed the guards in the room and waited until they closed the door to finally speak.
"I'm sorry I was dishonest."
"I understand. I wasn't entirely truthful, either." The man smiled, glancing around curiously, "Is that you?"
"Yes." Emma sighed, "I hate myself in paintings."
"I don't like them much myself." He smiled, making her giggle.
Everything about him felt right.
"Come with me. There's something I'd like to show you." She offered, holding her hand out for him.
He took it cautiously before following her out the back door, the door opposite of where they had entered. It led out to the courtyard, to the beautiful gardens that Emma had grown up in.
"This is beautiful, Princess."
"You can call me Emma." She smiled.
"Emma." He smiled, testing her name on his lips.
They were silent as she led him to her small, secret garden she had loved as a child.
"A secret garden." He smiled as she led him in.
"I've never shown this to anyone before." Emma smiled, watching as he took it all in.
"Are you sure I'm the one you want to see it?" He asked.
"Of course." Emma replied, moving to sit on the swing she'd always loved as a girl. She watched as he walked behind her, gently setting his hand on the small of her back.
"May I?"
"Of course." Emma breathed, looking up to him as he gave her a gentle push.
She closed her eyes, and for once, Emma felt like she was right where she belonged.
Killian loved her.
He was so deeply in love with this woman, this woman who was kind and beautiful and exactly what he wanted.
He loved her laugh-he had only heard it a few times that night, but it stuck out to him. It was airy, but not fake. She was genuine.
They were just getting to talking when Emma asked about his sword.
"Where did you get your sword?" Emma asked.
"It's a family sword." He lied, "My brother gave it to me."
"The sheath is beautiful."
"The sword has the same markings on it."
Before Emma could speak again, Killian heard the clock tower ring.
"Midnight? Already?" He breathed, shaking his head.
No, no, he needed more time.
"I'm sorry, I have to go." He spoke softly, bolting from the garden and down the main strip.
"Wait! I don't know your name!" Emma called after him, and Killian could hear her shoes click as she followed him.
He hated leaving her, but she wouldn't take him as he was. He was just a servant boy, a nobody.
She didn't deserve him.
"Wait!" She called.
He kept running, running through the room they'd talked in, then through the ballroom.
He darted in and around people, hoping no one would stop him along the way.
"Stop that man!" He heard someone call, causing him to run quicker.
He could feel his sword loosening around his waist the more he ran, but he had to go.
There were only the stairs now.
He skipped half of them as he ran, but his sword was beginning to really slip.
Just as he'd reached his carriage, the sheath fell to the ground, causing the sword to fall out as well.
"Hurry, Mr. Killian!" One of the coachmen exclaimed.
Killian only grabbed the sheath, leaving the sword as he clambered into the carriage.
"Go!" Killian called, and with that, he felt it moving at top speed.
He stuck his head out the window to see the guards chasing him, and he could feel his heart beating faster and faster.
"Stop him!"
Killian looked ahead to see the gates, then motioned to one of the coachmen to grab the lever with the tails they'd begun to grow back.
"Now!" Killian exclaimed, watching as the gate started falling behind him, effectively closing the guards in.
He pulled himself back in with a small smile, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the back of the carriage.
He wished he had had more time with the Princess.