This isn't super long, just 7 chapters. And it's already written. :)

Snow was determined to mend every fence that had been damaged in the long years that led them to this moment. To that end, she invited King George for a state dinner.

Snow and Charming invited every significant member of their kingdom, including many old friends from Storybrooke. Emma sat at her mother's side, of course, right in the middle of a thirty foot long table set up on a dais at the front of the great hall in the palace. King George sat across from them, next to Regina. Other noteworthy individuals from both kingdoms were arrayed up and down the table. Neal was one person down and across from Emma. She was fairly certain that was on purpose.

Killian was there, too, but not at the long main table. He was across the room, seated with Granny and Red. He didn't seem unhappy about that. Every time she looked over at him, he was telling Granny and Red some story or another. Apparently he was quite entertaining because the two women had been laughing non-stop. Emma found herself watching him more than she probably should.

"Emma, what do you think?"

"Huh?" She tore her gaze away from Killian's table and turned back to her mother. "I'm sorry, what?"

"I was just saying that both our kingdoms would benefit from establishing favored trade routes."

"Sounds good," she said helplessly.

"You expect me to just award you with favored trade status after everything you've done?" King George snapped, eyeing both Charmin g and Snow.

"What we've done?" Snow bristled. "Because if we're keeping score…"

"This pretender—" George wagged a finger at Charming.

"Hey," Emma heard herself interjecting, even though she hadn't planned to say anything. "I think it's pretty big of Snow to be willing to let go of all that stuff you did to her and Charming. How about you do the same?"

George swiveled his attention to her. "Just because some think you the savior, young lady, don't think that gives you the right to lecture me on running a kingdom."

"You wouldn't even be here if I didn't—"

"I think what Emma is saying," Neal interrupted calmly, looking between Emma, George, Snow and Charming. "Is that we're all in the same boat here. Every person at this table, in this room, has lost something. Someone. You lost your son and Midas' gold? I lost my father. Regina lost the man she loved. Snow and Charming lost their little girl and Emma lost her childhood. But we're willing to put it behind us. Dwelling in the past is a freaking dead end, man."

Emma was aware of every head at the table turning to face Neal. People down on the floor were looking, too. Killian had left off entertaining Granny and Red to watch.

"The past is gone," Neal continued. "None of us can turn back time or undo it. All we have is now. Everybody here wants to do it the right way, lay down our grudges and make a positive change."

"None of us will forget," Emma chimed in, keeping her tone steady, attempting to reach out to George even though all she really wanted to do was deck the arrogant ass. "But we can choose how we remember. And we can choose what we do with our memories. You want to waste what's left of your life feeling bitter and angry, that's your choice. But I've had enough of that. We all have. So get on board or step to the side. Even Regina's with us. You're going to be a pretty lonely old man if you wall yourself up in your castle and nurse your grudges."

George's jaw worked as he ground his teeth together and studied her, deciding what to say. Snow leaned across the table and touched his arm, smiling her winning, Queen's smile, the one that made everyone adore her. "King George, we want you on our side. We want you to move forward with us, not against us. That's why I invited you here tonight."

"Change is hard," Regina said, reaching to refill George's wine glass. "Nobody knows that better than me. But if I can do it, turn my back on all that anger and hate, surely you can, too. What do you say? Shall we toast to a new beginning?"

Regina raised her glass towards George. The rest of the table followed suit and they all waited, glasses raised, to see what George would do. Then his shoulders slumped and his face sagged, as if the heat of his anger had been all that kept him moving. He wearily grasped his glass and raised it.

"All right, then. To new beginnings."

"And to King George," Snow beamed. "Our newest friend and ally."

"To King George," they echoed.

Emma took a hefty swig of her wine and set her glass down carefully. Her hand was trembling slightly. As the conversation around the table started back up, Snow leaned into her.

"Well done, Emma."

"I didn't do anything. It was Neal."

Neal smiled modestly. "It was both of us."

"You and Baelfire make quite the team," Snow said.

"We always did, didn't we, Em?"

Emma managed a pained smile at Neal before she had to look away. It was all feeling like too much. Did she just help broker a peace deal with an enemy kingdom? Did she do it with Neal? She couldn't look back at him. In some ways, he was just Neal, the Neal from her youth, before everything went south. When it was just the two of them together, that's all they were, and the simplicity of it, the ease, was comforting. It's like she knew the girl she was when she was with him.

But here… in this crazy new world it seemed like there were a thousand expectations pressing in on them. These were people who believed in True Love and Fate in capital letters, and they saw it every time the two of them spoke. Then he wasn't just Neal. Then he was Baelfire, son of The Dark One, and he carried a world of complications and issues on his shoulders.

It wasn't fair to him. He was who he always was, and he couldn't help what other people projected onto him. They might see him as the Dark Prince to her Light Princess, but Neal didn't. He still saw the girl who poured him free coffee in a crummy diner in Phoenix.

Her desperate, wandering eyes landed on Killian. Killian's back. He'd left Granny and Red's table and was winding through the crowded dining hall towards the exit. Emma knew a sudden, fluttering anxiety in her chest. The sight of him walking away from her, just as she expected he would, but also just the way she feared he would, made her throat close up in panic.

Casting a quick glance up and down the table, she noted that nearly everyone was engaged in conversation. Surely no one would notice if she slipped out for a minute? Even royalty had to pee sometimes.

"I'll be right back," she murmured. Snow waved a hand absently, but never missed a beat in her lively conversation with Regina and King George. At least the truce seemed to be sticking. If she wasn't mistaken, Regina was even mildly flirting with the old bastard, flattering his ego into submission. She had to admire her ruthlessness. Thank God they were finally on the same side.

Emma wound her way through the crowd, ignoring all the interested glances that tracked her progress. Some of these people knew her in Storybrooke when she was just Sheriff Swan, but now they'd all fallen prey to the lure of royal celebrity worship. It was ridiculous.

Killian reached one of the exits and disappeared into a dark hallway. Emma picked up her pace, running after him and not caring how it looked.

"Killian!" she called when she reached the hallway.

He stopped instantly, but didn't turn right away.

"Where are you going?"

He turned slightly at the waist, until she could see his face in profile over his shoulder. "Had all the festivities I can stomach for one evening, I'm afraid."

She advanced a few steps towards him. "You looked like you were having a good time with Granny and Red."

"Aye. We little folk were keeping ourselves entertained quite nicely."

She rolled her eyes. "Come on. I had to sit with my parents."

He pivoted on his heel, fixing her with a look that made something turn over low in her stomach. The light was dim in this hall, only a couple of torches giving long dark shadows to everything. His eyes were nearly obscured in shadow. There was just a glint of the whites flashing out from the darkness. She'd never seen him look more like a murderous pirate than he did now. He looked positively dangerous.

"You're a princess," he said with exaggerated politeness. "Of course you had to sit with the royal family and all those esteemed personages. That's how these things are done. Only the right company for the kingdom's princess."

"You sound jealous, Killian."

He chuckled, a baritone vibration that held very little humor. Then he took a step towards her. "Jealous because you're taking your rightful place as a ruler?"

"No. You sound jealous of Neal. Because he was up there and you weren't."

He took another step closer. Emma shifted her weight from one foot to another but she didn't retreat. There was some kind of incendiary energy snapping between them making her head spin.

He kept advancing, one slow, silent step at a time. "Why would I be jealous of Baelfire?" He was smiling now, a wicked curl of his lips and a single hiked eyebrow. When he was an arm's length away, he did reach for her, running a fingertip over her shoulder and down her arm. It wasn't the way she expected him to touch her but her knees weakened just the same.

"No reason."

He cocked his head, examining her in the low, flickering light. "I have no right to be jealous or there's nothing to be jealous of?"

Her mouth fell open as she grasped for the right answer. "I…."

Then Killian moved. His hand clamped down on her shoulder and the curve of his hook pressed into her hip, shoving her back into the wall. He didn't stop until he was nearly pressed flush against her. Releasing her shoulder, his palm slid up to grip the back of her neck, angling her face up to his.

"You'll have to choose, Swan."

"It's not a contest," she gasped, hating how breathy and desperate she sounded. But she couldn't help it. She was practically trembling, gripping his forearms to steady herself even though there was a stone wall at her back.

"Oh, it's not?" he purred. He cocked his head again, this time to bring his face closer to hers. His breath washed over her when he chuckled. "It stops being a contest, Emma, when you make a choice and end the competition."

Like that day on the parapets, he pressed his cheek to hers, his scruff prickling deliciously across her skin. She felt him kiss her, just below her cheekbone, in front of her ear. Her breath left her on a long, wavering sigh.

"I suppose you want me to choose you." Her voice sounded remarkably steady considering she couldn't keep her eyes open or stand up on her own.

He chuckled again and the vibration across her skin had her biting back a moan. "I think you want to choose me."

"I do?"

"You do," he murmured. "But you're afraid."

"What am I afraid of?"

"Only you can answer that, love. But why don't I leave you with a little something to ponder?"

Before she could reply to that, his mouth was on hers. The Killian from Neverland, attentive and tender was gone. So was the Killian from the parapets, comforting and sweet. This man was all pirate, sweeping in and claiming her. She thought she should do… something. Protest, maybe. Or not. But he didn't give her a moment in the relentless sensual assault to think of what she should do. So she simply slid a hand into his hair, relishing in the feel of it, silky and soft, between her fingers. Her other hand gripped at the edge of his coat, steadying herself against him. He plundered, just as pirates should, showing her no quarter as he claimed every inch of her mouth, licking, biting, savoring.

The blunt curve of his hook slid down her hip, and lower, pressing a line into her thigh. There were layers of silk skirts and cotton petticoats between them, but she could still feel the pressure of it, the intent, seeking out her body underneath her pretty green dress. He raked it slowly back up, a little to the inside, almost in the right spot, making her shudder, making her bite briefly at his bottom lip. He uttered a sound between a groan and a growl.

"I won't steal you away, princess," he murmured against her lips.

"What?" Her mind was fuzzy with rampaging lust and hormones and he wasn't kissing her. It was so much easier when he just kissed her. She couldn't think about anything then.

"You need to decide exactly who you'll be here and then…" Abruptly he pushed himself away from her. She staggered, reeling as they went from sixty back to zero. "You need to decide who belongs here with you."

"I don't…"

He raised his hand and pressed his finger to her lips. "It's all right, love. I'm a patient man. I can wait while you sort it out. I intend to win, but I want to do it fair and square."

Then he gave her that infuriating, irresistible smirk and he turned and left her panting against the wall in the dark.