Chapter 1: Of Trouble and Longing

AN: Now you can actually meet our young Emma and Killian! Hopefully you enjoy reading as much as I enjoy writing!

Emma was born in mid-fall to exhausted by elated parents. Her name had been chosen for months prior to her birth and she was immediately placed in a blanket knitted for her by loving hands.

Snow White and David had finally found their happy ending when their bundle of joy was brought into the world. She was perfect and adorable and they loved her with their whole hearts. (Even if she had a set of lungs to rival an opera singer).

She was also trouble. Chaos with an innocent face and too much of her mother's bandit and father's knight to be anything less than a menace.

At three years old she decided she wanted to be a knight, like her father before her, and had somehow found his sword and began dragging it through the hallways for practice. Charming had found her attempting to lift it over her head when his eyes had nearly bugged out of his head.

"Emma!"

Big green eyes and a wide grin met his panic. "Daddy, look! 'M just like you!" And she'd fallen over, nearly slicing her leg open, as she tried to swing the sword in a wide arc.

They'd gotten her a wooden sword later that day to appease the waterworks from the initial "No" and the taking away of her new favorite toy.

At six, Emma had decided that hide and seek was her favorite game. She had also decided that the best places to hide were high up and so she made herself a climbing expert. Up in the rafters of the kitchen is where Snow found her during one of their games.

"Emma Ruth!" Snow's horrified expression had met the sour grimace of her daughter being found.

"Aw, mom," she whined. "How'd you find me?"

"Get down here, right now!" As it turns out, that was the wrong thing to say, Emma shrugged and leaped down the fifteen-foot drop to land in front of her mother. "Oh my gosh."

"Your turn to hide, mama."

Emma's enthusiasm had been curbed by a scolding Snow and chuckling David, both insisting she only climb with adult supervision.

At ten years old, Emma decided she didn't want to be a princess anymore and she was going to run away. David had found her packing a bag with her now-real sword, riding clothes, and non-perishable foods. He had to admit, she was smart.

"Going somewhere, Ems?" She'd started, eyes wide and nervous before turning back to her pack.

"Yes. I'm running away."

"Oh." He nodded slowly from his spot in her doorway. "May I ask why?"

"I don't want to be a princess anymore. I want to be a bandit." Charming cursed himself for telling her about Snow's adventures and moved to step into the room.

"Hmm. Well, you know that running away doesn't stop you from being a princess. You're already stuck, oh daughter of mine." Emma glared at him. "Besides, what are me and your mom going to do if you leave?"

He saw her struggle, saw her gnaw at her lip and look down. "I…um…"

"It's not so bad being a princess, Ems." David walked in and took a seat on her bed, indicating she sit next to him. Emma hesitated before giving in to his puppy eyes. "You don't have to be like Alexandra or any one else. You can still be you, sweetheart." She sighed and he wrapped an arm around her. "How about this? You still do all your necessary princess stuff but I start adding lessons in I think you'll like. We'll have Lancelot teach you sword fighting and we'll get horse riding lessons and your mom can even help with archery."

He watched in amusement as her young features crumpled in thought. When her bright eyes, so like Snow's, met his own, she held out a hand. "Deal."

"Good." He shook her hand. "Now put all this away and get ready for dinner. Granny made your favorite." Emma scrambled off the bed to start putting her things away.

At fifteen, Emma learned that she was not a typical princess. She was a better fighter than half the royal brats from neighboring kingdoms and knew her people better than some rulers knew their castle. She preferred riding-wear to ball gowns and her closest friends were her parents. She also knew that she couldn't escape what fate had in store for her, that one day she would be queen and she would have to rule with poise and fairness in hopes of living up to her parents. She knew she could do it, she also knew she didn't want to- not yet anyways.

All Emma has ever wanted is an adventure. She knows her parents' story, has it memorized after all the bedtime retellings from her childhood, and she aches for something of her own. She's a princess, but her parents are a bandit and a shepherd and she doesn't understand how can she be expected to stay inside playing the docile royal when she longs for the world.

Her tutor has been trying to make her practice curtseying and bowing and she's had enough. They'd already cancelled her riding lessons for the day and she is completely over all of this nonsense and she storms off in a huff.

Emma ignores her mother's exasperated call when she slams her door, walking out to the balcony. She sits on the ledge, staring out at the sea that seems to call to her, wishing for something to happen, for something to change.

Killian was born early spring to loving parents. His mother, sister of the king, was joyous in the life of her second son and his father's smile could have outshone the sun. His brother had named him, poked and prodded him, and decided he was up to snuff.

By the time he was four years old he'd found that inside the castle was not nearly as fun as outside the castle they shared with his family. This is the precise reason he was currently giggling as he swam as fast as he could away from his older brother.

"Killian! Killian come back! Mum is going to kill me!"

"Can't catch me, Liam!" He sped off towards the kelp farms, bubbles coming to life behind his busy fin.

In the end Liam did catch him and little Killian was carted back to the castle where his mother had to suppress a grin at her son's antics.

"Sorry, mama." He'd said wit his head down, dark hair covering his eyes.

"It's okay, baby. Please don't run off again, though." Killian had nodded and swam off after his brother's retreating figure. Marina laughed, watching him go with a bright grin that matched her son's. He was trouble all right. But he was also too adorable for his own good.

At seven, Killian found that following his brother around was his new favorite pastime. He got to be around Liam, his hero, while annoying him at the same time. It was brilliant and made the hours in the castle, which tended to stretch on and on, go by just a little bit quicker.

It was his best plan yet.

"Go. Away." He'd muttered through gritted teeth.

"No, don't think I will, brother." Killian lounged on the desk chair as his brother swam back and forth across the giant room.

"I mean it, you guppy. Go. Away." Killian stuck his tongue out but refused to leave him alone.

"C'mon, I'm not that bad. It's me or all the girls."

Liam glared. "You know what, I think I'd take the girls at this point."

Hurt. That is what flashed across Killian's heart and face. "Fine." He pushed himself from the desk and headed towards the door. He didn't need Liam anyways- he could just go to the library (again) or time himself around the grounds (again) or find something else while his parents were busy.

"No. Wait. Killian…" He shoved his brother's hand off his arm. "I didn't mean it. C'mon- "

"Don't talk to me."

At ten years old, Killian lost his mother. She'd been swimming near the surface, a dangerous thing to be doing regardless of location, but she had been doing it in prime fishing location. She'd gotten herself caught in a net and been carted to the surface and, unnoticed, died from sun exposure.

He'd locked himself in his room for a week, missing the funeral over an empty grave. He didn't eat for days until Liam broke through the door with a plate of food. He didn't sleep soundly for over a month.

And then his father had left. It had apparently been too much. Liam had his mother's eyes and Killian had her features. He watched as she danced before his eyes in the form of his children and he couldn't handle it so he left. He disappeared one night and had never returned. Their uncle brought them into his throne room and told them, with the saddest expression Killian had seen since his mother had passed. He told them they were still family, they were still welcome and that the castle was still there home.

But it never really felt like home again.

At fifteen Killian had come to learn that life was never what he expected or necessarily wanted. He was a prince, but not an heir. He was an orphan but still a brother. He was lost inside the place that was supposed to be home. But he had an uncle who loved him like a son, cousins who were annoying but lovable, and a future that he'd yet to carve out.

Liam had joined the military as soon as he'd come of age. Now, three years later, he was already a high-ranking officer with a reputation for good-form and fair rule. He'd created a reputation that Killian was expected to follow- one who would gladly follow one day. But he was fifteen and he wanted something more. He wanted something big and amazing and story worthy.

He'd fled the castle after an argument with his uncle. He wasn't like his father, he wasn't anything like him, and never would be. The voices of his brother and cousins echoed behind him but he merely sped up and swam further and further away.

It was too much, some days. It was too much to have to live up to one expectation and try to expel another. He couldn't be both the young prince and the son of a scoundrel. He just wanted to be.

So he found an ocean far away from their domain, an ocean untouched by the politics and expectations. He stared up at the sky, wishing for a fate different than the one he'd been handed.

And fate it seemed had a bigger plan than either of them thought possible.