"Emma, where have you been?" Her father came rushing to her the instant she walked in the door, and he cupped her cold cheeks in his hands, likely checking for scratches or bruises. She groaned at him, trying to wriggle free of his grasp but he was much stronger than she was. "Are you alright? What happened to your dress?"

She smirked sarcastically at him and stepped away. "It got in my way," she muttered, rubbing her cheeks. "It's wasn't even that nice anyway."

Charming shot her that stern fatherly look. "You had better hope that your mother doesn't find out about this." He put a hand on Emma's shoulder and pulled her further inside, as if to go say talk to your mother. With a good slap on the back, Emma was on her way, glowering over her shoulder at him, but he only crossed his arms and beckoned her away with a finger.

Emma sulked through the corridors of the castle heading up toward her room where her mother was likely waiting, impatiently tapping her foot against the floor as she always did when she was irritated. Emma crept up the stairs, hoping for the contrary of what she envisioned in her head. Her mind had been racing since she left the docks, and as much as she despised the idea of a grand ball in her honour, she would find the sailor again so she could see how good he really was on his feet. Emma smiled to herself as she stepped over the threshold into her room, and she heard the familiar clearing of a throat that could only mean one thing.

"What are you smiling for?" Snow asked. Emma was unsure if she was selectively ignoring the frayed dress and dirty feet, or if that was coming after – it was likely the latter. "Did you have a good time ripping up that dress of yours and messing with your hair that took hours to fix?"

Emma nodded, and there was that small fear in her head of what her mother might say, but she didn't say anything – she only waited for an answer. "I – I went to the docks," she started slowly, and Emma's eyes wandered down to her feet. Out of all the people in this world, her mother should understand; she at least hoped that she was right about this.

"What were you doing down by the docks?" Snow reached out and tucked a piece of hair behind Emma's ear. "Talking to the sailors?"

Emma felt her ears growing hot. "I met this one…" She paused, carefully considering her next choice of words. "He told me not to drink the rum. I thought that was nice of him." I totally screwed that one up. "I – whatever." Change the subject. "I need a new dress." Without looking at her mother's response or giving her time for a comeback, Emma rushed to her closet and pulled open the doors. There was an array of colours that spread out in front of her and she stared at them all with pure disdain. She wished she could wear one of her riding outfits to the ball, but that was the last thing her mother would allow. Not when the entire kingdom was coming. Instead, Emma snatched a dark blue dress from its hanger and threw it carelessly to the bed.

"Emma, be careful!" Snow warned, straightening out the wrinkles. "Why this one? It's so dark… it's your birthday, not a funeral!"

"Mom, please."

Emma shooed Snow out of her room, but her mother didn't leave without a reminder to wash herself up before she came downstairs. She managed to clean herself up in a matter of minutes and slipped into the slim dress. When Emma examined herself in the mirror, she gulped. There would be hundreds of people, and they would all see her in this dress. If that wasn't the most frightening revelation… She especially wasn't fond of the way it hugged her curves and showed off the pale skin on her waist. Why was it even in her closet – this wasn't fit for her. It was the darkest dress she could find that wasn't black, so it would have to do for now.

By the time her hair was fixed, with the maids pulling at her head from both sides, it was almost sundown. The sun was barely peeking over the horizon when Emma stared out the window. She stood in front of the mirror again and tucked a stiff curl behind her ear, only to have it fall back into place again. Emma would never be prepared for this party, and she would spend most of it, without a doubt, at the tables littered with food eating anything she could find, and avoiding the crowds as much as she possibly could. "I am so going to screw this up," she said through a hard gulp. There was a sudden knocking on her door and Emma's stomach began to flutter.

"Emma!" It was her mother. Without waiting for an answer, Snow proceeded inside. "Emma, it's time you came downstairs." Snow held up something in her hand – whatever it was, it was black and midnight blue, to match her dress. When Emma stepped closer, she saw that it was a mask, intricately decorated with feathers and rhinestones. "This is for you."

She took it in her palm and her eyes darted between it and her mother. "I have to wear this?" she gaped. "I don't – that's so creepy!" Emma imagined entering the hall and having every one of the guests with their own masks on, no one knowing the identity of all the others in the room, all of it being a mystery. Masquerades were supposed to be fun, but Emma thought the opposite of them. To her, the anonymity took away all sense of trust.

Snow tilted her head. "Emma, it's only for tonight and then I promise, we will never do it again," she begged. "Until your wedding of course."

"Don't even talk to me about a wedding, please," Emma snorted and pulled the mask over her face nervously. At the very least, she hoped that no one would know it was her. Her mother helped her secure the knot at the back of her head and Emma breathed in deep as she turned to face her again.

"You'll be fine!" Snow kissed her on the forehead, and she looked proud – proud of Emma for putting herself through this, because that is what her parents wanted. She loved them with all of her heart, and it was at least reassuring to remember that this was going to make them happy. She took hold of Emma's hand and squeezed it tight. "Happy birthday."

Emma couldn't say anything. She followed stiffly as they exited the bedroom and made for the hall where everyone would be waiting. Snow put her own mask on before they entered, and as they approached, the guards bowed to them, allowing them to pass through. Emma was floored by what she saw: the entire room had been decorated with a myriad of soft colours, most of them shades of brown and gold, with large centerpieces set up at each of the tables, and food lined as far as her eyes could see.

She parted with Snow, who encouraged her to wander and mingle with others. As she was crossing the room to food, people were turning to watch her through their masks, but she kept her gaze diligently on the platters. Just think about the food, just think about the food, Emma repeated to herself as the crowds of people split for her like they knew she was the princess.

She reached out for cheese when she arrived at the table, her fingers hovering over it for a moment, debating if she really wanted it. She did. Her etiquette teachers would have thrown a fit over the way she threw it into her mouth. There were crackers set off to the side, and so Emma began to stack layers of the different types of cheese onto the cracker. Proud of herself, Emma smiled at it and opened her mouth to eat it.

"That's quite the sandwich you've made for yourself," a voice said from behind, startling her. The crackers and cheese fell from her fingers and scattered at her feet. "Princess."

"I – Excuse you!" Emma whipped around and she could feel the crumbs sticking to the bottom of her shoes. She instantly recognized his blue eyes that were shrouded behind the simple black mask and the smile that he wore so proudly. "Killi–"

Killian grabbed her arm and pulled her away from the table and out of earshot of the crowds. "No, quiet," he hissed. "It's supposed to be a mystery." He led her so quickly to a distant corner that Emma could barely keep up. They stopped, their fits of laughter muffled behind their hands, and Emma tried to catch her breath. "That's the entire point of the masks, darling."

Emma jabbed him in the chest with her pinky. "Then you really shouldn't be calling me princess. Sailor," she mocked quietly as a couple passed them, arm in arm, watching them curiously. Killian was dressed differently now – he was no longer wearing his lieutenant's jacket, but it was a fancy blue coat with gold trimmings, fit for a sailor not at sea. Emma extended her arm and adjusted its collar, despite it being stiff and straight already. She stepped towards him and her eyes locked with his – they were less intimidating now that they were hidden behind the mask, but they were still so vivid that her breath caught in her throat again.

When the music started to play, Emma's attention was pulled back to her surroundings and she cleared her throat, swaying nervously on the balls of her feet.

"May I have this one dance?" Killian asked softly, and he opened his palm to her.

Emma took it gladly, wrapping her fingers around his and he laced them together. Emma could have sworn she felt her heart stop for a brief moment. "Just one?" she pouted, but he remained silent, not looking to her as they paced their way to the open floor.

There were already couples waltzing together to the orchestra that played, their feet moving in unison across the granite flooring, the dresses rippling as they spun. All of them looked to be in bliss, like nothing in the world mattered but being in the arms of their partner. Emma, on the other hand, was trying her best to keep herself on both feet as they slid into the circle as others looked on.

Killian placed a hand on her bare waist after hovering for a moment, as if unsure of what he should be doing. His other hand gripped hers tight and Emma gently rested hers on his shoulder. "Do you know how to dance?" she whispered, both of them standing still in the middle of the spinning dancers gliding around them.

"Er… I thought you would," he mumbled, and Emma snorted loudly. "I'm a sailor, I warned you that you wouldn't find a dance partner in me."

Emma's entire body stiffed against the stirrings in her stomach. People were watching them – she couldn't screw it up. "We'll figure it out," she reassured him. She was no princess, and this was only reinforced by the fact that she hadn't the first idea of where to start when dancing. Her parents had tried time and time again to teach her, but she never grew an interest in learning. Emma saw no practical use for knowing, and she certainly hadn't expected her birthday to be as extravagant as this. She made no prior plans to dance tonight, but Killian was different, and these new feelings were surprising her in all sorts of ways.

It was left foot and then right foot, and observing those surrounding them. Their feet moved quickly, and there was a pattern to follow. Killian tried his best to lead them, but he would stumble over his own feet as well as hers regularly, breaking Emma into bouts of loud giggles. She hadn't had this much fun in a long time – much longer than she could remember, and Emma held onto him just a little tighter as the song slowed.

"What happens when all of this is over?" Emma asked suddenly, leaning her head so that it was close to her ear, and close enough that only he would hear her. She had been longing to ask the question since he left her on the dock, but it was the answer that she feared most. It seemed as though he was afraid of replying as well – he was clenching his jaw and avoiding looking at her.

His thumb ran up and down her waist absentmindedly, sending fits of shivers up Emma's spine and to the nape of her neck. "Let's not worry about that right now, Emma," he pleaded, and he rested his head against her temple.

Emma pushed herself away so that she could look directly into his eyes. They were pouring pain into every bit of her that could be occupied with such heaviness. "Why? It's not like it's going to change what happens, is it?" she said lightly, trying to relieve the strain that the question placed between them.

"I leave," he put bluntly, and although she was expecting it, it hit Emma hard. She kept her face straight and emotionless, but on the inside, she wanted to scream all of her queries at him. "My job is to sail under my king and my captain's commands." His hold on her hand softened. "I'll be sailing off to a distant land in search of something very powerful."

"What land?"

Killian shrugged. "Not even I am high enough rank to be granted such knowledge," he explained. "Only my brother – my captain – knows, and is not at liberty to say until our arrival."

Emma forced a laugh and hoped that Killian couldn't see past her charades. "Make sure you bring enough rum with you for the trip," she joked.

"That's bad form, princess."

Emma felt the tugging at her chest and she bit back whatever feeling was slowly making its way to her surface. Her eyes widened and she closed in on his ear again, and whispered her words so softly and so pleadingly that it hurt her in her entirety. "Take me with you." It took all of her willpower to withdraw from him and his smell faded from her head. They were studying each other again, moving back and forth ever so slightly to the music.

His gaze was hard and he furrowed his brows below the mask. "That is something I cannot do," Killian sighed. "You're the princess, and your rightful place is here on this land, in this realm."

Where in the world are you going? "No, this isn't where I want to be," Emma said, shaking her head. She remembered how open the water looked from her bedroom window, as if she could sail to the ends of the earth if she truly wanted to – like there was no end to it. "I want to see things, I want to go places I've never been." Her smile widened and Emma clasped the collar of his coat. "I want freedom."

He was all of that to her, and that was what Emma was most drawn to. The sails and the ocean and the horizons – all of the things he must have seen on his journey and Emma felt… jealous. Killian's eyes smiled behind the mask. "You belong here, this is your home."

"Your ship can be my home, too!"

With a shake of his head, Killian let go of Emma's fingers and let them rest in his palm. "Sailors don't have a home, Emma," he said sadly.

Emma was eyeing him closely, and how the corner of his mouth twitched into a frown, but she was swept from her feet as he dipped her, holding her a foot from the ground in his arm, and Emma gasped. Killian lifted her to her feet and spun her, her dress flying out around her as she twirled. She could see the faces passing in a whirl – everyone had stopped to watch them, and some were clapping.

She was pulled back in with his strong grip around her hand and their bodies collided against each other. When Emma was face to face with him again, there were only inches of air between their lips and she drew in a sharp sigh, refusing to breathe him in. If she did, she would never find it in her to let go. "You can have a home then," she hummed as they turned together.

"No," he reiterated, this time more stern. He, too, was hiding the pain in his voice. "I have a job to carry out by order of my king. I depart at dawn, and I don't know when I'll return."

This was bad – really bad. Emma had no idea what the quivering in her chest meant, but it couldn't be good. She couldn't take her eyes off of him, and all she wanted to do was to break the gap between them, but everyone was watching. She couldn't – Emma didn't know who he was or where he was from or where he was going. All she knew was that he was leaving in the morning without a clue of when he would be back. "When you do come back," she started, her eyes unmoving from his face as they stepped side to side with each other. "Will it be here?"

"I'm afraid that is information that also has not been divulged with me," he explained. "My brother is a secretive man; I'm not even entirely certain where we'll wind up on this voyage." Killian paused and thought for a moment. "What is so bad about this place that you'd wish to leave it?"

Emma shook her head. There really was nothing wrong with being here, but this life didn't suit her. A life of adventure where she would return with stories to tell her family: stories of pirates and thieves on the high seas, escaping danger, wizards in other lands, and knights whose battles ended in heroic victory. That was the life Emma had always longed for, but she could never find it here. Until Killian and his crew sailed in on their ship for her 18th birthday. "There's nothing wrong with being here," she assured him. "I just don't really feel like I belong in a life like this." It was the truth; Emma loved her parents and loved her home, but she wasn't made to be the princess and ruler-in-training. She didn't want to rule, and she certainly did not want to be wearing this dress. "That's why I think you should let me come with you – just on this one."

She couldn't seem to convince him. "I don't know anything of the dangers in this new land I'm going to," Killian disclosed. "I do know that we shouldn't have a princess on board."

"I can take care of myself," Emma spat stubbornly, and she swatted his arm. "Just because I'm a princess doesn't need I can't fend for myself." She placed her hand on her forehead and feigned distress, shrieking loudly and relaxing in Killian's arms. "Oh, the sea makes my legs quiver beneath me! Save me, my brave sailor!"

It had at least made him laugh, only if it was for a moment before the air grew tense as the music faded away, and they stopped. Everyone was clapping for them, and Emma, in a panic, immediately pulled Killian away from the center of the crowd. She hid the redness of her face behind the mask as she pushed past people in an attempt to escape. The music started again and they had made it out just in time as the crowd moved in and began their dance once more.

Emma had brought him to a corner behind the stairs where no one on the floor could see them. Killian reached up and took the lace that tied her mask behind her head and gave it a gentle tug. The bow in her hair fell loose and he pulled it off of her face. Emma blinked. The air cooled her face as it reached her skin. Killian handed the mask to her and placed it gently into the palm of her hand before removing his own. It was like Emma had forgotten what he looked like without it. Her breath caught in her throat and she must have reached out to graze his hand distractedly because he snatched her hand between his fingers.

"I best be going," he muttered after a lingering silence. He was trying to disguise the sadness in his voice, but Emma heard the crumbling of his composure despite his best efforts. Killian's thumb was tracing circles on the back of her hand now, and Emma giggled.

This is just a crush… her voice echoed in her head. You're just going to get hurt. Emma pushed those thoughts away, into the furthest depths of her consciousness and ignored them, not wanting to detract from what this moment. "Why so soon?"

"I leave early," he stated frankly. "Happy birthday, princess." He smiled, but didn't give her the time to retort. Killian let Emma's fingers slip out of his hand and he turned away from her, but he kept a slow pace. He never left room for a goodbye.

Emma froze, her hand falling limp at her side. She had put herself out there for him, the first person she had ever really wanted to talk with and learn about, only after one small, fateful meeting on the docks. Then he just leaves? "That's no way to treat a princess, you know," Emma called out finally, her voice going grim.

Killian stopped, but never turned, like he was waiting for her farewell.

Emma took long strides toward him and spun him back around by his shoulder. Her hands gripped the lapels of his coat and she pulled him in, and her lips crashed against his. It took him a moment to process what was happening before his hand found its way into her hair and he weaved his fingers through her curls. He inhaled against her lips and Emma's entire body stiffened as Killian's other arm went around her waist to pull her in. Emma's lips parted just enough to breathe him in, stealing the air from his lungs. Killian's tongue teased her and all of Emma's strength left her body and she fell to the mercy of the kiss. Emma shoved him until his back was against the wall of the stairs and her hand slid up to rest itself in his hair.

Just give me this moment, that's all I ask.

Killian's grip was strong and Emma felt the heat radiating off of him as he brought her in as close as he could get her. When they separated, Emma licked her sore lips between quick breaths. She felt Killian's hot air on her skin as she rested her forehead against his.

"That was…" he exhaled.

Emma's fingers went for his collar again and she held onto him like he was her lifeline – like if she let go of him, he would disappear forever. "You know where I'll be when you come back," Emma told him as firmly as she could manage without shaking her voice. It was Emma's turn to leave him, and she finally released him from her hold and put the mask over her face with one last smile. I'll be waiting…

Emma left him in the ballroom, exiting through the large doors. She moved her fingers over her lips again and glanced over her shoulder at the crowd, trying to spot Killian amongst everyone, but he was nowhere to be found. A small part of her regretted leaving in such a manner, but if she had stayed longer, Emma knew that she would never have the will to let him go. She would have ordered him to stay, to ignore his king's orders and skip the voyage. Emma would have built a ship for them and they would spend their days sailing the seas and exploring new and distant lands.

Emma never wanted a prince or a knight in shining armour to rescue her – she craved adventure now. Emma wouldn't find her prince – instead, she found a dance partner in a sailor tonight.