It's almost time for the showdown. I originally had it for this chapter, but felt it was too much with the other things going on. So…expect the showdown next chapter.

Candle and lantern light glowed from the windows of the pub, a soft and warm oasis in a town that seemed to be already shutting its windows to the spring night air. Emma and Killian had taken their time arriving at the destination, sharing a few more moments and embraces along the road in an unhurried fashion that was not exactly something they had before.

"Are you sure you are up for this?" he queried, his cheeks still a bit red from the exertion of both giving into his feelings for her and yet holding back before he did anything more. "It seems a rowdy crowd."

"I'm sure," she insisted boldly. "I did work at Granny's."

Moving deftly toward one of the remaining tables, Killian grabbed her arm to pull her back toward him. "We don't have to stay here," he commented, his eyes barely masking the disdain for a few of the rowdier patrons. "Perhaps a spot outside would be quieter."

Surprise was marring her expression as she looked back at him. "This bothers you? I thought you were a fearless captain."

He shifted his weight, trying not to be too obvious with his watching of two local farmers far too inebriated to stand. "I thought you might be offended," he muttered. A local man standing on the end of the bar and declaring himself the winner of a game of dice before being batted away by a barmaid illustrated Killian's point.

"You said you wanted to try to woo me in such a location," she reminded him. "And I worked at Granny's. I know how these places are when it gets started."

He was about to argue that the Widow Lucas would never condone the type of behavior of other pubs at her place of business. The gruff older woman was a stickler for many things, including decorum of the drunk. Despite her advancing age, Granny was a formidable woman who even made Killian sometimes nod with a dumb expression at her demands. However, Emma was already moving away from him and procuring that table by the staircase. Her cape swooshed as she practically floated into the seat and looked at him expectantly. Holding a finger up to her, he sought out the attention of the one of the two servers and ordered them each a pint.

She managed to surprise him again when she did not sip from the mug of ale as he had expected but drank it down with the experience of most of his crew. A stunned eyebrow rose as she wiped her lips afterward. "I am not as innocent as you might presume," she told him.

"I am repeatedly reminded that I am wrong to ever doubt you." There was admiration as he took the seat next to her. He said nothing of how she must have moved that chair to her side rather than across from her. The position was so close that their legs and shoulders seemed to touch even when they were not being purposeful in their affections. "You are a lass with a great many secret talents and skills that more than make up for anyone's lack of belief in you."

"I'm not sure that my drinking ale is a talent or a skill."

"If it was, my crew would be more highly regarded." He leaned toward her as if to share a secret. "No, it is not your ability to partake in spirits that is of considerable envy, love. It is your ability to blend into your surroundings. No one would suspect that you are…high born with a display such as that."

"Not tonight," she reminded him, managing to lean closer to him herself. "Tonight I am Emma, a woman who is quite interested in a ship captain named Killian."

The drinks kept flowing until Killian suggested that they not imbibe so much that he would be carrying a drunk and loose tongued Emma back into the royal palace. That was not a conversation or confrontation that he relished having with her parents. However, that did not stop either of them from enjoying the various treats that he managed to procure from the eager eyed server. It also did not stop them from enjoying each other's company even more. He was not sure there was anything left for them to share of their stories and pasts, but they never lacked for conversation, the wax of the candle and string of smoke tickling their noses. Besides carrying with her the book smarts of her tutoring, she was an interesting woman who he appreciated for her insights and observations. She was humorous and kind, rarely saying a bad word against anyone in their group. However, that did not mean she was not opinionated and strong, as she was certainly her father's daughter in that regard. Emma was, as he was learning, not a woman who gave her trust to many people. She was skeptical and hard to fully understand, but once you earned acceptance into her inner circle, she was loyal to a fault.

One of the barmaids began to sing with the tune that minstrel was strumming, a few of the patrons humming or swaying their hips in the recognition of it. Killian could not help but notice the childlike exuberance of Emma's green eyes as she watched a few of the bolder or more inebriated patrons push aside tables to dance as someone else began to pound the beat onto the surface of the bar and another joined on an old and out of tune piano in the corner.

"Would you care to dance, Emma?" he asked, repeating the question as she stared at him dubiously as though she hadn't heard his request. He extended his hand toward hers and whispered into her ear that this could be practice for the next night's festivities.

The setting and choreography of the dance was not as formal as she had been taught, but Killian wound one arm around her waist and smiled as she placed her hand over his hook. Sweeping her along to the cadence of the tune, he joined her laughter with his own rich tone and admired the fresh glow about her. He knew that the others in the room did not see her as he did, as her magical disguise made her almost raven haired and more angular. Still, he felt as though he was luckier than any other when she breathlessly told him that he was better at dancing than she had thought.

"I'm glad I can surprise you at something."

While his eyes stayed trained on her, he did let them sweep toward where the fingers and palm of her right hand curled around his hook. Sadly, he realized, she had not even thought to mask that accessory in her spell over their appearance.

"I thought you might be uncomfortable without it," she said, guessing what he was thinking with the intensity of his quick glance. "And I don't truly mind it. It is a part of you."

"Just another surprising facet to you, darling," he said, forcing his eyes back to her. "I hardly think of it any longer, but you seem much less affected by it than others. Some will avert their eyes and others can't help but stare."

Tilting her head as she considered that, her long thick braid of hair falling forward and brushing against his chest. "I did not know you before you lost your hand. While I am sorry that you did lose it, I find nothing lacking in your ability. You work so well without it that I have no reason to think about it other than fleetingly like tonight." When he arched his eyebrow in question of what she meant, she practically giggled. "I am not afraid of it or you, Killian. I only meant I noticed it because when I did grab hold it was cold and made me remember that I did not wear my gloves."

"I do apologize," he said, falling into the silence between them as he spun her once more. He had not been lying when he informed her of his knowledge of the dances they would certainly encounter the next night, but he did not practice them often. However, this was a perfect opportunity to hold her tight to him even in public. She was not complaining, laying her head on his chest between the songs, her breath labored and hair a bit messy from the exertion.

"I should be more frightened," she said when the music broke and the noise level dropped. "What we are doing tomorrow is not an easy thing."

"You are not scared?"

"Of course some," she corrected. "I only say that because I fear my mind is someplace else. My concentration is not on that in the moment."

His hand was still at the seam where the skirt of her dress met the rest of the fabric. There was no move or protest from her as he held her that tightly. "Dare I ask what it is on?"

"You," she answered simply. "When all is done tomorrow you will leave. You won't have reasons to stay." She shifted uncomfortably in his grasp. "I don't want to say goodbye."

"Aye, I can't say as I have been looking forward to that prospect either, but we need not think about such things until their time. I suppose that a man of breeding and substance would have words with your father in such a case, ask permission to write you and visit." He had not been a man who ever had any desire to do such things. The woman he had loved in the past was well past such formalities. And wenches and such did not typically require such discussions.

Sucking in a breath, she twisted a bit of the fabric of his shirt under her fingers. "I wasn't asking you to do that," she said firmly and with embarrassed haste. "I only meant…"

"I will, you know? I will speak to your father if it is what you wish me to do. For the life of me I can't understand what you might see in me, but I won't argue against it. I will appreciate your attention for as long as you should give it, darling. And if you should…"

"We will talk to him," she interrupted, again the royal decree of her words shining through. "We will talk to him together." The conversation waned as they again joined in with the dancing.

***AAA***

Taking the tired Princess back to their seats, Killian ordered a few things, including some of the bread that they dipped into the seasoned broth. He laughed over her tale of eating too much as a child when Granny was visiting and demanded that she like her cooking over the palace's official chef. The young Princess had served as judge, eating two helpings of each course so that she could decide and declare a winner. She had been sick for two days after, but even upon waiting found the two women wanting her to announce her findings.

Emma found herself reluctant to leave the cozy pub, even when there was the danger of being caught. Grumpy – one of her mother's dearest friends – had entered the establishment late for his nightly brew. Despite her magical disguise, Emma slinked back against the wall and staircase, clutching her cloak around her as though cold. Killian didn't realize her worry at first, assuming that she was cold and rubbing her folded hands under his right.

When the dwarf made an exit to talk to someone more privately, Emma let out the breath she was holding. Calling herself foolish, she smiled sheepishly at Killian and explained. "I know he couldn't know it was me, but… Perhaps we should go back," she said, giving another look around the tight space. "My mother could overrule Elsa and go to check on me."

"I'd rather not have any other marks against me," he admitted. "Your father and mother already find me quite dastardly and by far not good enough for your companion."

She was about to answer that she was not concerned as much with their opinion, as she saw in him something far better than they could ever seem to understand. She wanted to reassure him, but the commotion of a late entry to the pub interrupted that thought as yet another familiar face was framed in the light.

"Come quickly," the man said to one of the older men who Emma didn't recognize. "There's trouble at the palace."

Emma's heart thumped wildly and bile rose in her throat, wanting to demand an explanation but knowing that doing so would reveal her identity. She groped for Killian's hand, tugging on it as he held back, surely as concerned as she was about the whole thing. "Wait," he said in a low tone. "We should hold back a moment. We can gain on them in the forest."

That was what they did, not bothering to guess what the trouble might be or share stories about times when they had been similarly worried. Emma had worked her way up in magic to be able to move from place to place without traveling conventionally, but she was limited in what she could do with a companion. So they hurried, quick and sometimes clumsy steps, her dress and cloak getting snagged on branches. Killian's hook came in useful as he broke them away.

It was Elsa who they saw first. The woman's white blonde hair glowing in the moonlight as she stood just inside the guarded gate. She would not have recognized them had Emma not removed the glamour spell just seconds before.

"I wasn't thinking, Emma," she said, her voice hoarse and unsure. "Earlier today when we took the boys skating. I didn't remove the spells we did. I just left it."

Emma paled as she realized what Elsa was saying. It had been a challenge to keep the pond frozen while the afternoon sun had beat down upon it, but they had managed. Yet when the boys became tired, they had trouped them back inside without regard for the condition of the lake. It had stayed frozen for a while after they left, but the warmth of the sun and its unnatural condition had done a number on the integrity of the ice. "Which one?"

"Henry and Roland are fine. They are with Regina now. All three boys snuck out here for one more go at skating." Elsa's stricken face turned toward the very worried Snow and David. "Leo's somewhere. We don't know…"

Emma swallowed hard, the ringing in her ears now deafening as she sought out her parents. The shattered expressions and disappointment were a familiar sight for her as she threw herself into her mother's arms. "Why didn't you unfreeze it?" she yelled back at Elsa.

Her friend's hands were clasped and the wind was blowing lightly through her hair, a few errant strands leaving the long braid that was her signature. "I tried," she said brokenly. "I tried." It was then that Emma noticed the tiny flakes that usually came with the Queen of Arendelle's emotional distress. Clearly her friend could not do it. Neither could Regina, who was much more adept at other magic than frozen solutions.

Emma's mother looked at her pleadingly. "Do something." It was a small break in the hopeful countenance where she was insisting that Leo was fine and well. She went back to it immediately, reassuring her husband whose eyes were scanning for sight of the young boy. Three of the dwarfs were linked and searching through the holes in the ice. There were so many breaks that it was impossible to see where Leo had gone into the water.

Raising her hands unsteadily, Emma obliterated sections of the ice, revealing the water as it should be fore that time of the year. Her father dove for it, ducking his head underneath to search for his only son. Ripping off his coat, Killian joined the King, calling out his contrary findings.

"Over here!" David's voice rang out and sent a scurrying of the dwarfs. Emma was already pulling off her cape and her mother's too, saying something about using them to warm her brother. It did not occur to either of them that he was not going to be fine. Or maybe it did and they did not say it.

Using the strength of his arms, Killian lifted himself out of the water and onto the bank. He yelled to David to drag the boy in that direction, pointing out that it was much shallower and an even surface. Emma and Snow rushed to his side as David lifted him and Killian freed the boy from the underwater growth of vines and reeds that had tangled around his legs. Leo's face was pale as they pulled him out of the water, his lips slightly blue as David pulled himself up and hovered over him. A few presses to his chest and a few more breaths and Leo coughed violently, sputtering water to the instant joy of the Queen.

Killian pulled Emma to him as the King and one of the dwarfs worked feverishly on the young Prince. She shivered a bit in his embrace, her cloak now serving as a blanket for her brother. "Is he alright?"

"Aye," Killian answered, adding commentary that he hoped would calm the nerves of all of them, including him. "It appears that he must have had air for a while before losing consciousness. Perhaps a pocket under the ice." Elsa was offering an explanation that they had set out in search of him before he ever fell through, finding him in those moments and not able to get to him.

"He's very cold," David said without emotion. "Too cold." Leo had been born prematurely and was still slight for his age, his fragility evident that he caught whatever ailment was going around with more ease than the others. To look at him there on the ground wrapped in the cloaks of his mother and sister, his father's large hands trying to rub warmth into him, was to remember how they had almost lost him at birth.

"Isn't there anything?" Killian began to say into Emma's hair, a plea that she was trying not to ignore as her own body trembled.

"It wasn't magic that hurt him," she explained woefully. "Not like you. It is the water not the ice." Her words and tone were short, but he understood their meaning. Her magic could heal magical wounds and not those of nature. She wobbled a bit as that reality set over her, settling into a feeling of despair. She told Elsa to get Regina, hoping she was wrong. But she wasn't. The boy needed medical attention and not magical intervention.

***AAA***

"Can he play with us?" Henry asked when Emma and Killian entered nursery to brief Robin on the condition of the Prince. "He's always fun."

"Maybe later," Robin said, vacating his chair at the table where the boys have been building their own version of the palace. Emma was quite impressed that he had not protested being relegated to nursemaid while Regina joined the others. Telling him as much, he shrugged off the praise humbly and said he would do whatever he could to make sure the boy was alright.

"The lad is resting," Killian said to him, giving Emma a chance to choose the next words more carefully. His hair and clothing was still damp from having dove into the water, but he had yet to leave Emma's side to dress again.

Robin's kind expression was not overly curious as he maneuvered them a bit away from the younger boys. Apologetically he looked at the couple. "It seems that they decided as a trio to sneak out and go for one more skate. The Prince was faster than these two and was already on the ice while they were still trying to secure their blades on their feet."

"Thank the Gods for that," Killian muttered. "It might have been all three that broke through."

Emma's glistening eyes shot to the boys. "Did they see anything that troubled them? I am certain it must have been quite scary for them."

Robin scrubbed his hand over his face. "No, your highness. The boys believed your brother to be playing a joke. They thought he was hiding." He said it apologetically, explaining that at their age they were unaware of the dangers.

"I am grateful for that," Emma said, resting her hand on Robin's forearm. "They are too young to carry with them the fear and trauma of seeing such a thing with understanding."

***AAA***

Granny hovered outside of Leo's room with Johanna, both women barking orders at Doc and a few of the other dwarfs who were bringing the young Prince all of his favorite things. Emma was not all that surprised when she hears the older women telling one of them not to bring his pony inside the palace, but that a painting of it will suffice for now. Everyone was trying to help in their own way.

"His color is looking better," Snow announced, her back ramrod straight on the backless stool where she had taken a seat just after Leo was carried to his room. Regina sat next to her, a worried and pinched expression on her face. According to the former queen, there were some roots or other herbs that might be of help. But after an exhaustive conversation about where to find them, nobody was quite sure.

"I could go," Killian said from his spot down the hall where other guests had begun to congregate. Emma was about to join him and Robin on what felt to her a fruitless quest when there was a scream from Leo's room. It was not the same as the reaction the Queen had to seeing her son pale and nearly lifeless, but instead it was one of joy as the child's eyes opened and his hoarse voice called out to his parents.

"He's well," Emma said, throwing herself first into Killian's embrace and then Elsa's before returning to Killian's arms again. She had vacillated between Leo's room to stand near her parents and the sitting area where she assured Elsa all was going to be fine and asked Killian to make the same assurances to her.

Regina was the first out of the room, noting that the sun had already shown itself over the grassy knolls in the east. "If we are to keep with our plans for tonight, I must have some rest," she said. However, Emma not so sure that she could rest, the image of her brother's pale form haunting her.

"You should rest," Killian said to her so gently that she was surprised the tone came from him. His hand under her elbow, he led her back to her floor. She was not unaware that her mother would have found it highly inappropriate for him to accompany her to her bed chambers, but he did not cross that threshold. Instead, he walked her to the small study and led her to the settee that was situated near the fireplace. She realized quickly that he intended to stay with her, having left the door open as the rules of decorum would have required.

"You'll stay with me?" she asked. His careful nod was affirmation enough as she adjusted her skirts to recline back and he puttered about to build a fire. She told him it wasn't necessary, but he argued that he should be allowed to do the one thing he could in such a room.

His clothing was dry, she realized as he brushed against her to sit. "Did you change?" she asked, confused as to when he could have since he seemed to have been there all along. He chuckled that Robin had insisted and even had a servant bring him some drier things. Placing a pillow across his lap, he insisted that she rest there so that she might sleep a bit.

"I'm not tired," she insisted. She hesitated, kneeling before him to remove his boots and place his feet upon the short table for his comfort. "I assure you that I will stay awake."

"Aye, I'm sure you are not, but you face a challenge tonight that I would rather have you alert for, love."

"I doubt that I would be able to sleep through an attack from the Dark One." His hand was warm, even through the sleeve of her dress, and his fingertips seemed light as they moved in some unseen pattern. "But this is nice."

"Then you know of my designs," he said. "I was looking for a way to hold you close without complaint."

"You will get that chance at the ball," she reminded him. "You proved to me that you can dance."

"Aye, it will be marred with thoughts of the Crocodile though. I will not rest easy or enjoy until he is dealt with once and for all."

She smiled, her position awkward as she tried to meet his gaze. "You could help, you know?"

"How is that?" The firelight flickered among the shadows of his features and she could not see them fully in that half light.

"Tell me of your adventures," she said. "Inspire me with your tales of bravery and courage." She could tell he was about to protest and claim that he had been anything but brave. However, for reasons she did not fully grasp, he didn't protest. She did not interrupt his stories, only reaching up to join her hand with his where it rested near her shoulder. His stories were funny and touching, a few moments scaring her and others making her wish to weep for what he had faced and gone through.

It was not long until her eyes fluttered shut and her breathing evened that his voice drifted off. She was not aware that her mother entered the room. Killian didn't even see the Queen enter at first, her expression one of worry as she pattered into the space and took in the sight of her daughter reclined against a pirate who was dozing quietly himself.

"I wished for her to rest and she seemed quite intent against it," he excused, his hand still wrapped up with Emma's.

"I have no doubt of that," Snow said, her hand resting on the mantle as she stared at the neatly flaming fire. "I was concerned about her, as I know she must be worried about tonight." For all her talk of concern, Snow White was living up to her name with a pale complexion and darkening circles. "David had to drag me out of the room and let Leo sleep."

While Emma's hair is lighter than her mother's and her frame taller, Killian was not blind to the similarities. She wears that same stubbornness on her features, that same set of the jaw when she is contemplating something. He can imagine Emma as the queen of the kingdom, her strength on display. "I hope not too worried," he said. "As a man who has fought many battles, I know that it is detrimental to let such worry run rampant."

Snow watched him, wanting to both commend his bravery for not shifting position to avoid offending her and to thank him for caring for her daughter so much. "So you will be there tonight…at her side?"

"Aye, I think I am of better service there than rushing about the forest in search of a dagger, milady." He sounded as if he truly believed it. However, there was a part of him – far larger than he wanted to admit – that did not want to leave Emma's side. He might not have had magic, but he was willing to fight whatever creature stood in her way if she would allow it. How could he put that in words though? How could he explain?

"I arranged something for you to wear," she said, sounding for all the world like it was just a normal royal event. "I don't mean to insult you, but I thought you might like something less…"

"Less naval or scoundrel like?" He immediately blushed that he was being familiar with a queen with a princess curled up against his thigh. He might have decades on the women in that room, but they were above his station and clearly

"Emma, my daughter, doesn't care that much about tradition, propriety, or public opinion," Snow declared, fondly looking at her daughter. "Or perhaps she does, but she is so afraid of being shunned that she pretends it is all beneath her. Either way, she would never tell you how to dress or how to behave so as not to embarrass her."

He swallowed over the growing lump in his throat. For all the doubts he had about himself, the idea of embarrassing Emma by being less of a man than she deserved was top of the list. "I am sure your selection will be appreciated."

Snow gave him a slow nod, retreating from her position with haste. He assumed her to be done with the conversation and ready to move on from it, but she returned moments later with two knitted blankets that smelled vaguely of cedar. She unfurled the first one and covered her daughter with it, the soft yarn tickling Killian's hand. A bit more hesitant with the second, Snow looked thoughtfully before she unfolded it and then placed it over his legs. "It's a bit chilly tonight," she told him, her shoulders lifting up slightly. "Don't worry. I'll direct the staff to leave you be. No need in adding to Emma's worries with gossip and rumors about you staying the night."

"I meant to leave once she was asleep." He said, though it was a bit of a lie. He had thought about needing to leave, but he had yet to bring himself to do it. It was easy enough to excuse it as his desire to let her sleep and not disturb the tenuous hold she has on it. But it wasn't that simple.

"Of course," the Queen said, straightening up. "I should leave you be. I do need rest too. It will be a busy night."

***AAA***

The tunic in Killian's room is red, the same red of Emma's gown that her mother had been protesting just a few days earlier. He wasn't even aware of its color and significance until she was presented. The tall staircase empty just moments before was lit with her warmth as she was announced and began her graceful walk down toward the crowd. The dress was luxurious with perfectly fit bodice and a full skirt that made her thin waist all the more trim. A delectable glimpse of her cleavage made him smile as he realized she must have demanded that, as her mother would not have chosen it for her. Her long blonde hair was pulled up and away from her face, knotted elegantly and held back by an intricate design of a headband with silver and small rubies. She had told him once that she was not a fan of wearing a tiara, as it made her feel all the more on display.

She bowed before her mother and father first, a custom that could not be ignored. Next she did the same before Elsa, who was the guest of honor. Sashaying gracefully to the side, she dipped her head toward Regina and Robin, as well as a few of the royal couples who had made the journey to the kingdom. Finally she paused before Killian, smiling shyly at first, she curtsied before his deep bow and then laughed as he gave her a look of confusion. "I'm afraid I have never been in this position, love," he said under his breath as she moved toward him.

"Nor have I," she admitted. "I usually stay at my parents' side for these type things. Either that or I'm avoiding some arrogant prince who is said to be a good match for me politically."

"Then I am honored to learn with you," he said, mimicking the way that the other gentleman were offering their arms to the women beside them. "I was starting to think I might have been better served heading out with the others."

"I prefer you here with me," she said as the grew closer to Elsa and her parents. The two queens were genuinely kind as many of the nobles began the first dance, an intricate number that was far faster than most from that realm. David stood back a little, his hands clasped in front of him. As most royal conversations went, Killian complimented the music and food – though he had yet to partake of anything. Both Snow and David appeared to appreciate the effort, though Elsa appeared more amused.

Several of the dignitaries, nobles and royal family members of other kingdoms stopped before them to bow and thank them for the invitation. Though they looked upon Killian with a mild curiosity, Emma offered little in the way of explanation other than his name if someone pointedly asked. When he questioned her on it, admitted that she could barely remember their names, making introductions and issue. Since the herald and caller announced each by title, Killian wondered if they even knew Emma's name or just saw her as the heir to the crown.

When Emma grasped Elsa's arm and said that she wished to take a moment, Killian appreciatively followed the Princess out of the main ballroom and into a smaller yet still formidable sitting area. "Are you not well?" he asked as she fanned herself a bit.

"I hate these things. The fake courtesy, the tight clothing, the overcooked food…"

"The apparel is not so bad," Killian argued lightly. "You look beautiful in that gown, which makes the high collar on this tunic and coat all the more bearable for me." He tugged a bit on the collar to make his point. "And you are quite impressive with the way you can speak to these people. I did not realize you knew so many languages."

"Hours of tutoring," she said, appearing embarrassed by his admiration. "You look quite dashing yourself."

His smile was half playful and half arrogant. "So I am not too accustomed with the itinerary for these things, but might we have that dance now?"

To be continued….