Bae had awoken early, his settee not being conducive to sleeping in. Stumbling into the kitchen, he began digging through the icebox in an attempt to cobble together a filling breakfast. He pulled out the side of bacon and set it on the table behind him, then reached back in to grab a couple of eggs. His hand hovered over the basket and he hesitated - to grab two, or four? The Princess had seemed genuine in her efforts the prior evening, but based on his experiences thus far, she was as likely to show for breakfast as she was to snub him by sleeping until noon.

As if on cue, he heard a voice from behind greeting him with an informal "Morning." Guilt immediately washed over him - she'd given her word, after all. He turned to see Emma emerging from the bedroom, dressed in what he had come to realize was her preferred ensemble of riding pants and a tunic. Come to think of it, he wasn't sure he'd seen her in a dress since they'd left her parents' house. He stowed the thought for later analysis, instead focusing his attention on the girl in question.

He smiled in greeting, holding the eggs up for show and using his hip to nudge the door of the icebox closed. "Thought I'd give it a shot. There's a pan here, the fire's going... we'll need to figure it out sometime. Can't be fruit and bread for every meal."

She raised an eyebrow as she flopped down at the table. "Have you any idea what you're doing?"

"I happened upon Clara frying bacon and eggs once," he replied, meeting her at the table with the pan in his hand. "Bacon first, leave the grease for the eggs. Seems simple enough."

"Until you end up with a burnt outside and cold center," she muttered. Shooting her an offended look, Bae slid the pan onto the hearth. Shaking her head, she clarified. "Sorry. Not you. That was me."

He murmured a response before turning back to the task at hand. Busying himself with the slicing and frying of the meat, he did his best to ignore the eyes he could feel watching him with interest. Minutes ticked by in silence. Finally, out of the blue, Emma addressed him.

"Baelfire?" she began, speaking tentatively enough that it immediately piqued his curiosity. Tentative was not a term he'd use to describe Emma, leaving him to wonder what had run across her mind to cause her to act in such a manner.

"Hmm?" he replied, feigning only light interest in an effort to downplay his curiosity.

"Mama reminded me, when I was home visiting... there's a ball tomorrow night in honor of a dear friend of mine. I... I should probably go." She locked her eyes on him, waiting anxiously for a response.

He raised an eyebrow in puzzlement, as he couldn't imagine why she would be asking his permission. She certainly hadn't made it a habit to seek his approval, and he couldn't imagine their tissue-thin friendship would change that. "I've no objection to that. Go, enjoy the time with your friends."

She bit her lip. "It's just... Well, I probably should not go alone."

He turned to face her, involuntarily raising his eyebrow even further. "Are you asking me to accompany you to the ball, Princess?"

She let out a small sigh. "I think it's best. It would be strange for me to show up without my new husband, and besides, I expect it will last beyond nightfall."

Furrowing his brow, he studied her for a moment, considering her request and the logistics of the situation before he continued. "I think the real question here is: How good of an actress are you, Princess Emma?"

"Beg your pardon?" she replied, drawing back.

"You'd like to attend a ball, which I presume will be attended by any number of friends and other royalty - including your parents - right?" She nodded. "I can't imagine it would be wise for word to get out in the kingdom that we were married under duress. So if you bring me along, you'll need to be able to convincingly sell that we are happy newlyweds. Can you manage to pretend you can stand me - for an evening at least?"

"I can stand you just fine," she said as she offered him a small smile, indicative of the progress they'd made over the past few days.

"Not quite the point, Princess," he replied, returning her smile. "Are you going to be able to convince your dearest friends that you married me because you wanted to?"

She opened her mouth as if to reply, hesitating before she closed it again. Pondering for a moment, she made a face before finally replying. "No. Alex will know immediately that something's amiss."

"Even distracted by her own ball?"

"Well... I don't know," she admitted. "She's my dearest friend, but she does tend to get a bit wrapped up in her own world. It's possible, but it would be a stretch."

"Hmm." Bae thought for a moment. "Certainly, you could explain my presence away with illness. Recovering, of course, so your attention is not needed, but ever the loving husband, I did not want you to skip the ball on my account." She shot him a skeptical look in response. "My father's decree, however, is another matter. We could request an exception for the evening..."

"I can't imagine he'd grant it," Emma said, considering how certain Bae had been that he wouldn't alter the deal governing their marriage.

Her question earned a shrug in reply. "It's a trivial enough manner, he may be willing to barter." She scowled, causing him to continue. "Listen, the way I see it, you've three options here. You can skip the ball, attend with me, or ask my father to waive his requirements for the evening."

Bae watched in thinly veiled amusement as she weighed her options. Emma shifted in her chair as she hemmed and hawed, torn between her desire to attend the social gathering and disliking her options to get there. After a few moments of observing her indecisiveness, Bae's patience began to wane and he piped up again. "Listen, if you'd like to ask him, I'll go up the hill with you."

"Will you?" she asked, face brightening at the prospect of having an ally in her request.

"It's no trouble," he replied, beginning to search for his shoes. "It can't hurt to ask. Worst he can do is say no. Well, and yell a bit, I suppose."

She raised an eyebrow, calling his bluff. "That's the worst?"

"Fair enough," he acknowledged. "He could do far worse, but it's the worst he will do in this circumstance. C'mon," he said, extending a hand to help her out of her chair. "I'll walk you up there and make sure of it."

Emma, making no move to stand, allowed a small smile to overtake her face. "Baelfire?"

"What?"

"The bacon."

He flew to the stove, colorful language leaping from his mouth. Emma suppressed a giggle, watching as he muttered under his breath and yanked the skillet off of the stove. Setting it to the side, he stabbed at the bacon, dropping several pieces in his haste to lift it out of the grease. By this time, Emma could not contain her laughter.

"I thought it would be a simple task," she said, grinning, a teasing glint in her eye.

Bae gave a sheepish shrug as he slid the plate onto the table and turned back to the stove, hoping for better luck with the eggs. "I neglected to factor in distractions."

"It's all right," Emma replied, snatching a piece from the plate. "I like my bacon on the crispy side anyways."

Bae shook his head, grateful for her understanding as he embarked on his second attempt at that morning's breakfast.

"Progress, love?" Cora sighed, her train of thought disturbed. The spells that had been cast on the cell were complex, strung together in an intricate manner that had perplexed even the Dark One. But inside the cell, Rumplestiltskin had lacked the resources she had at her disposal in her daughter's castle. Furthermore, he lacked the drive that she possessed, the fire that fueled her, and she was confident that any spell that could be cast could also be undone. And so she sat, day after day, studying ancient tomes as she compiled a list of the most likely candidates for the job. Until, of course, that infernal pirate interrupted her yet again, leaving her to wonder why she kept him around at all. "Tenacity has a greater payout than impatience, pirate," she purred, silently cursing him in her mind. She'd been nearing a breakthrough - perhaps - but the threads she'd been pulling together were now scattered to the wind. "Indeed," Hook concurred, as if impatience was not his specialty. "It's just that you seemed so confident breaking the spell would not be an issue." "It's wouldn't be an issue," she said, gritting her teeth as she leveled a glare his direction, "If I could concentrate on my study." "Ah, I see. I will leave you to your devices then. Do let me know if I can be of assistance." Cora rolled her eyes at his idiocy. "Not unless you've a store of squid ink hidden in your hook." "Squid ink?" The inquiry brought a light to the pirate's eyes, aquatic items being far more his language than magic, spells or curses. "Yes," Cora replied with a sigh. "That's how Rumplestiltskin made his escape. It has the ability to-" "Neutralize magic. I know." "You're aware?" she asked, surprise evident in her voice.

"Some time ago I was keyed in on the secret, offered some in exchange for - well, nevermind that," he interrupted himself, shaking his head. "In any event, I acquired it on more than one occasion during my time in Neverland." "Pity you don't have it any longer." "Just because a man hasn't an item on his person, it doesn't mean he lacks possession of it, love."

With that statement he gained her full attention. "Well then how do we get it, my dear?"

Hook chuckled, feeling as if he had the upper hand at last. "Therein lies the catch... the ink is on my ship, tucked away in a location safe from prying eyes. The ship itself is the issue. When we entered our slumber eighteen years ago, I left it docked in the harbor, but pirates being pirates..."

"It could be anywhere."

Hook shrugged, indifferent to the challenge. "Anything that can be lost can just as easily be found. You can continue searching for answers in these worthless books, or take a bet on something you know to work. My ship is out there, somewhere. We could extend our partnership, locate it together. In exchange, you would receive a portion of the squid ink, and with it the ability to free your daughter. Meanwhile I get my vessel back, somewhere to go home to once I've finished with Rumplestiltskin. How about it, love."

"Hm." Cora replied. "A tempting offer." She pondered for a minute, meeting Hook's hard gaze. She held it for a minute, calculations whirring wildly in her mind. Finally she gave a terse nod. "All right, pirate. You've made yourself a deal."

"Excellent," the pirate replied. The tables having swung in his favor, his grin made its first appearance since waking from his slumber.

Having finished breakfast with no further mishaps, Emma & Bae wandered up the hill to visit his father, talking lightly as they went. Arriving at the front door, Emma went to knock, only to have the door swing open before she was able to even raise her fist above her waist.

"I don't know if I'll ever get used to that," she muttered, causing Bae to chuckle a bit.

"You'd be surprised at the absurdities that become normal," he replied, a strange mix of bitterness and amusement in his voice. "Life with Papa around is... far from ordinary."

"As I've discovered," she replied. The duo walked side-by-side into the hall, where they found Rumplestiltskin seated in his favorite chair.

"My children!" he replied, clearly deriving great amusement from Emma's scowl at the title. "What brings the two of you for a visit today?"

"Emma would like to attend a ball tomorrow, Papa."

"Wonderful!" he exclaimed, glee dancing in his eyes.

"Alone."

Rumplestiltskin looked at Emma, his expression turning sour. "Whyever would you want to do that?"

"I-"

"She's concerned we won't make convincing newlyweds," Bae said, cutting her off.

She turned to scowl at him. "I can speak for myself, you know."

He drew back, looking stricken. "I thought you wanted me to intercede?"

"You offered to accompany me up the hill... I don't need you to fight my battles."

"My apologies, Princess," he said, false graciousness hiding the slight sting he felt at her admonishment.

Bae heard his father clear his throat and looked back to find that he was watching the two of them with poorly disguised amusement. "Lovers spat already?" he needled. Emma turned and glared at him, refusing to justify the absurdity of his comment with a verbal response.

"The ball will have many of my acquaintances in attendance," she resumed, "and we're concerned they'll quickly see through the ruse. Bae suggested perhaps I attend alone, claim he's not feeling well... but if I did so, we'd be separated at nightfall."

"Pity that won't work out for you, then," the imp replied, his voice devoid of sympathy.

"I was hoping you might waive the restrictions for the evening."

"My dear princess," he began, shooting her a stern look, "Our agreement is barely forty-eight hours old. You'd like to renege on it already?"

"I've no intention to renege! We'd simply like to request an exemption for the evening," she replied, as if she'd clarified her position beyond reproach.

"Which has exactly the same end result," he replied. Seeing the unamused faces of the duo standing before him, Rumplestiltskin continued. "What have you to offer me in exchange?" he asked, tilting his head to the side, curious as to how they would answer.

Emma glanced at Bae, who merely shrugged. "My gratitude?" she offered, hope evident in her voice despite the fact that she knew deep down the battle had already been lost.

Rumplestiltskin giggled, this offering being so far beyond inadequate that it traveled into the realm of the absurd. "Ah, it seems you underestimate me, dear princess. No - an exemption is not something I am willing to grant. On the contrary, I think you should both go to the ball! Take your new husband, show him off - it might be good for Bae to get out for the evening. He hasn't much in the way of a social life. Perhaps your influence will rub off on him a bit." Bae glowered at his father as Emma returned to the glare Rumplestiltskin was getting to know well. "You two are quite the pair, dripping with righteous indignation because I won't bend the rules. It's a ball. Go. Try to have fun! You may even be surprised at how much you enjoy yourselves."

Emma, having lost patience with the argument, turned on her heel and clomped out of the hall. Bae followed behind, throwing a terse good night back at his father as he went. As she reached the foyer, Emma narrowly missed being hit by the doors as they swung in towards her. She growled in frustration before stomping down the front steps, allowing them to bear the brunt of her anger. Even then, she barely slowed as she reached the packed dirt road, her frustration propelling her forward.

Rumplestiltskin watched as his beloved son departed on the tail of the princess whose life he'd apparently ruined for the second time inside of a week. After casting the doors shut behind them, he spirited himself to an upstairs window to watch their retreat. Emma made it ten steps, maybe fifteen, before she stopped and turned, waiting for Bae to catch up with her. Once he did, she spoke earnestly. Despite not listening in on their exchange, Rumplestiltskin found himself smiling. The girl was giving Bae a run for his money, no doubt. In return, he'd seen a spark in his son that had long been buried. Gone was the apathy and anger of the last four years, replaced with a mix of frustration and an honest attempt at a friendship. Truth be told, what might appear to most as a rocky start was in fact better than he'd ever dreamed. Bartering in unison already? Things were coming along beautifully.

Once Emma slowed enough for Bae to catch up with her, they walked along in silence for a few moments. Emma's pace continued to slow as they went, her shoulders gradually slumping and gaze casting downward as the fight drained out of her.

Finally she sighed, frowning as she did so. "I'm sorry," she offered, voice quiet as she studied the ground.

"For what?"

"I snapped at you when you were only trying to help, and I'm afraid my temper caused your father to refuse my request."

"No, definitely not," he replied with a shake of his head. "My father's misguided sense of humor did that."

She sighed again. "I guess I'm to go with you or not at all, then."

"Seems so," he said. A moment passed before he spoke again. "Really, I'm happy to accompany you if you'd like."

"I just hate to ask you to do that," she replied, finally meeting his gaze.

"I truly don't mind," he said, perhaps with a bit a bit too much enthusiasm in his voice. She stopped walking and looked at him skeptically, studying him for a moment before realization came over her.

"You want to go!" she exclaimed, eyes lighting up with amusement.

He tried to play it off with a shrug, but the flush that overtook his cheeks betrayed him. "Papa's right. I don't get out much. I've certainly never been to anything like a royal ball. I am a bit curious."

"Well, why didn't you just say so in the first place?" she asked with a laugh. "Could have saved us this entire trip."

Another shrug. "I did mean what I said. You're not someone who hides her feelings well. How do you plan to convince your loved ones that you're pleased to be there with me?"

She walked quietly for a moment, his question bringing a halt to their jovial conversation. Emma studied the ground as she considered her response. "I don't know," she replied, uncertainty betrayed more by her hesitant tone than by her words.

"Well, how do newlyweds act?" Bae asked, keeping his voice light in an effort to restore levity. "I mean, surely you've seen friends fall in love before, right?"

"Really just Alex," she replied. "I'm the eldest of our circle... she married very young."

"Well, it's a start at least. How does she act around her husband?"

"Ridiculous, really!" Emma rolled her eyes at the memory. "She's forever making moon-eyes at him, clinging onto his arm, laughing at his stupid jokes. Sometimes I want to just shake her and tell her to look at herself, to see how she's behaving. It's really quite absurd. Embarrassing, almost."

"You don't think you'd be equally 'moon-eyed'?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at her outrage.

Emma snorted. "I've always liked to think that should I ever fall in love, I'd be a bit more reserved."

"Reserved?" he teased her. "How romantic."

"It seems to me you can express affection without making a fool out of yourself, don't you agree?"

"I suppose," he said, sighing. "You'd have better role models than me. What about your parents?"

"Hmmm. My father looks at my mother like she's the one who lit the sun. She's forever talking about him - 'your father this' and 'your father that.' Oh, and the nicknames... She calls him Charming... like it's his name or something. Ridiculous, I tell you!" She laughed, shaking her head again before her brow furrowed. "I do suppose that brings up a good point, though. If we'd married for love I can't imagine I'd be 'Princess' to you. I'd simply be Emma, you know?"

"It's a valid point," Bae said with a nod. As he continued, he stuck his hand out, offering it to her for an overly stiff handshake. "It's nice to meet you then, Emma. I'm Bae."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Bae," she continued, giggling as she made a mock curtsy. "So only half a name, huh?"

"Amongst familiar company, it's just the half," he affirmed. "My mother named me while Papa was away at war. He always just called me Bae."

"Bae it is, then."

The duo walked the last few minutes to their house in comfortable silence. Upon their arrival, Bae graciously opened the door and ushered Emma in with a wave of his hand. He followed, nearly plowing into her back mere moments later. She had stopped without warning, pulling up short just a few steps into the house. Searching for an explanation, he followed her gaze, finally landing on a lilac ball gown, intricately beaded and hanging on the back of the bedroom door. Next to it was a tunic and slacks, heavily decorated in colors that coordinated with the gown. Bae didn't need to examine them further to know that both would fit perfectly.

"What is this?!" Emma asked, storming over to the clothing.

"Our attire for the ball, I suppose," came Bae's reply, pointing out the obvious from where he remained near the door.

"Wherever did it come from?" she raged, looking back at Bae for an explanation. He did not answer, instead allowing his raised eyebrow to state the evident for him. Emma continued her rant with a sputter. "Who - what - why - WHY does he do these things? What is his game? Does he think having us play dress up is going to get him what he wants?"

Bae shrugged. "Who knows with him."

"Well, I won't be wearing it," Emma declared, lifting the dress off of its peg and tossing it over the back of the settee. After letting it fly, she folded her arms over her chest, her posture the finishing touch on her petulant child act.

"So wear another gown from your trunk, then," he said, offering the practical solution.

Emma looked back at him with a blank expression on her face, the notion taking her by surprise. "I haven't another."

Bae's eyebrow rose again, an attempt to suppress his smile mostly succeeding. "Well, then, what do you propose you wear?"

Furrowing her brow, Emma glanced back and forth between Bae - amusement creeping across his face - and the layers of toile and satin that lay tumbled between them. "It is a beautiful dress."

"Mmhm."

"And I'm sure you haven't anything appropriate aside from what your father sent - first ball and all. It would be a shame not to coordinate."

"I see. Your consideration of the gown is entirely altruistic, then."

"Baelf- Bae," she started, catching herself, "Don't tease!"

"I'm doing nothing of the sort," he replied in mock innocence. "Just ensuring I'm following your logic."

"You're incorrigible, Bae!" Irritated though her words might seem, Emma was laughing as she said them, clearly not as sore about the teasing as one might imagine.

"Hardly so, Princess," he objected, the glint in his eye reflecting hers. "Merely doing my best to keep you in line."

She chuckled. "An impossible task, to be sure. I do believe we're both lost causes in that department." She paused to finish her laughter before continuing. "More importantly, I thought we abandoned this Princess nonsense?"

"Ah, my dear princess, in public - where we must uphold our charade - you shall be simply Emma. But here at home, where the truth is known, I think we'll stick with Princess. It suits you well."

"Does it now," she challenged, shooting him a pointed look.

"Indeed it does," he replied, his mischievous glint spreading to a full smile. "Eighteen years of habit doesn't disappear so quickly."

"No, I suppose not."

"It's not even necessarily a bad thing. It's just part of who you are," he said. Bae had found that even in her more genuine moments, there was a reservedness about the princess that he knew came from a lifetime of being raised as a royal. He'd spoken the truth, though - it was indeed part of what made Emma who she was. One of the things he was quickly learning about her was to identify those pieces and see past them to how she truly felt. So lost in these thoughts was he that he nearly missed the next statement, spoken in a far more soft and pensive

tone than was customary for the brash princess.

"It's not all of who I am, though..."

He blinked, pulling himself out of his thoughts to process her statement. "Of course not," he said, sensing he'd struck a nerve he didn't know existed. "I didn't mean to-"

"It's fine," she said, interrupting him. "It's just that sometimes there are moments when I feel like the 'Princess' in my name casts an eclipse across the 'Emma.'" She sat still for a moment before visibly shaking it off and plastering on a smile that even Bae could see was fake. Vulnerability buried, she continued. "It's no matter. We'll use that princess training to our benefit. We've two days to teach you the ropes and get you ready for your first royal ball."

"Don't do that, Emma," he said, crossing the room in a few quick strides and coming to rest in front of her. His face serious, he placed his hands on her shoulders, meeting her gaze. "There isn't any need for you to hide like that."

"We do need to get you ready for the ball," she objected, twisting out of his grasp and busying herself with straightening the gown she'd sent askew earlier.

"We do," he agreed. "But you needn't hide behind a mask to do it."

She stood with her back to him, fiddling with ribbons and hemlines as she refused to meet his gaze. "It's not a mask, Baelfire. You said it yourself - it's just who I am."

"Emma, come on. That's a lie. You and I both know it."

She cast a glance over her shoulder at him, surprising Bae as he found tears pooling in her eyes. Without a word, she scooped up the dress and stormed into the bedroom, leaving the resounding rattle of the door as her only response to his comment. It was the last he saw of her that day. Emma's retreat left the cottage bathed in an eerie silence, one that Bae felt acutely. It echoed in his ears as another failure; the first chance he'd had to forge a connection after untold years of loneliness and it had taken him mere days to muck it up.

He'd married Emma to save her from the hurt of losing her family. As he'd weighed that situation, it had never occurred to him that he might be the cause of hurt all on his own. It was important to Bae that Emma felt comfortable being herself in the home that they now shared, but it seemed he'd pushed her too far, too quickly. In his efforts to get her to open up, he'd caused her to close off even further - and he feared that perhaps this would be a rift he'd be unable to mend.

A/N -

Thanks for reading along even with my laggy update schedule! I promise this story is fully planned out and I will continue to update it and see it to its finish... just gotta tuck in time for writing sessions in between work and more work!

As always, a huge thanks to textbookone for her rockin' beta skills and willingness to put up with my bugging! Also, credit for inspiring portions the final scene goes to her :)

Sorry for the random angsty turn there at the end! Next chapter, we'll see if we can resolve their tiff before we head off to the ball. I mean... every good fairytale's gotta have a ball, right? :)