Hello everybody! As you can see, I'm back, and I come bearing another long fic. I apologize for a longer delay than usual, but I've been quite busy with my job and driving school, but I'm happy to share another Captain Swan story with you. Thank you for all the reviews you've left since I finished TYB, and I hope you're going to like this one too! I won't tell you much about it except that it starts out as princess Emma meeting blacksmith Killian, and there's a lot of angst before they reach their happy ending. Thank for stopping by to read, and enjoy!

Princess Emma is on the run.

Well...

Princess Emma didn't really run off from her castle and her parents never to return again; she had just wanted a quiet moment for herself, and those don't come easily when you're the daughter of King David and Queen Snow White, especially not when there's a ball that will be held in your honour just a few short months away.

Hence her being on the run from a search party that's undoubtedly been sent after her.

Emma doesn't mind being a princess all that much and she loves her parents to death, but if she could pick a family to have been born into, the royal one wouldn't be her first choice; she's most content when she's strolling through the woods near her parents' castle or walking the beach next to it, and these days it seems that there's always some kind of lesson of propriety or foreign language she's supposed to attend.

Everything used to be so easy when she was little, when her nursery was her entire world and when spending time with her parents was always insanely fun.

Emma sighs and lifts the skirts of the simple gray dress she'd stolen from one of her maids' closet, heading into the village with her head hunched between her shoulders because even though it's highly unlikely somebody is going to recognize her, she doesn't want to risk it.

She'd like to be free for a while longer, if it's at all possible.

The sound of horse hooves startles her and she ducks into the first doorway she encounters, stepping backwards into a hot, dark cavern of a room just as her father's guards thunder by.

It seems they've realized quickly that she hadn't gone neither to the forest nor to the beach.

Emma turns around and walks deeper into her temporary sanctuary, discovering that it's actually a blacksmith's shop; there's a dozen or so tools lying on a table off to the side, lined in neat rows, a low fire burning across from her and two brand new swords gleaming on another table that's covered with fine green fabric.

The swords are exquisite and her fingers itch to touch them, but a noise behind her startles her and she whirls back toward the entrance of the shop, fully expecting one of the guards walking in and demanding to escort her back to the castle.

The man coming inside carries himself like a soldier, but he's wearing commoner's clothes and judging by the way he tilts his head to avoid hitting his forehead on the low doorway, he'd been here many times before.

Apparently, she's about to meet the blacksmith this shop belongs to.

"I'm hiding", Emma says before he even notices her, his gaze focused on the swords on the table, and he looks up sharply, but doesn't seem all that alarmed at her presence. "I'm not here to steal or anything like that."

The room is dimly lit, but his eyes are so deeply blue she can see them shining like the brightest summer sky even from across the room.

His gaze finds hers and they stand there looking at each other for the longest few seconds of Emma's life; it seems like the entire world is holding its breath just like she is, even though she doesn't even know what's she waiting for.

"The village is teeming with King's guards", he speaks in a soft, accented voice that wraps around her like a comforting blanket and makes her wish she could keep hiding here forever. "What did you do that they're after you, lass?"

"Nothing", Emma says quickly and takes a step toward him as if drawn by a magnet before she even realizes what she's doing.

"Won't take them long to search the streets, and then they are going to start knocking on doors", he tells her and reaches for a leather apron hanging from the wall and she watches with no small amount of astonishment as he puts it on one-handed because there's only a leather brace peeking out from his left sleeve.

"You're the one-handed blacksmith!" She exclaims rather rudely, her eyes widening when he pauses on his way to the table with the tools she'd seen earlier.

"Aye, that I am", he says, and he seems completely unaffected with the title the villagers have awarded him. "You've heard of me, so you must be from around here, but I've never seen you before."

Emma knows she's blushing fiercely red but she ignores her burning cheeks and apologizes for the way she'd addressed him.

"No need to apologize, darling. I am a blacksmith, and I am one-handed, so the title is nothing but accurate", he says and gives her a quick half-smile that makes her both melancholic and strangely content.

"Quite impressive too, I should think", she tells him and comes closer, her inherent curiosity getting the best of her because it seems he's not going to object to her presence in his shop after all.

"It is a challenge", he admits noncommittally and when their eyes meet again she feels like her entire being is humming with strange but elating excitement.

"How do you do it, then?" She asks him, forgetting about the search party and watching him take a metal hook from the table, his thumb smoothing over its surface before he clicks the end of it into his brace.

"Most ungracefully", he tells her with an enthusiastic wiggling of his eyebrows and Emma smiles, marvelling at the fact that she feels so at ease with him.

A shadow crosses her face when she realizes it's only because he doesn't know who she really is, doesn't know she's going to be a Queen one day, and therefore isn't intimidated by her in the least.

But then again, she gets the feeling that there's not much that could intimidate him.

"It's going to get very hot in here in a few minutes", he says but doesn't even attempt to convince her to leave, much less physically throw her out like most people would do because even though her father is a benevolent King, his guards are still treated with the utmost respect.

She wonders where does his rebellious streak comes from.

"I don't mind the warmth", Emma assures him and stands to the side so she's out of his way, but still close enough to see what he's doing.

"You're a stubborn one, aren't you, love?" He asks and looks at her over his shoulder briefly before he goes back to stroking the fire, his movements sure and measured as if he'd done it a million times before; he can't be much older than her, but there's something in the set of his shoulders that makes her think he'd seen a lot and lived through even more.

"You can call me Swan", she says abruptly, stunned with herself because she knows that chances are she's never going to see him again after today and he could just keep addressing her with those little terms of endearment that sound so pleasant when spoken in his lilting accent.

"They are going to catch you if you stay here, Swan", he tells her, and she can hear regret in his voice quite clearly, wondering again what had happened to him to warrant such apparent disregard for authority.

"Maybe so", she says and stays exactly where she is until he shrugs and leans against the wall across from her while he waits for the fire to grow hot enough.

"You're not afraid?" He asks her and she raises her head high, proudly meeting his quizzical gaze.

"I didn't do anything wrong", she answers and he tips his head to the side, his eyes searching hers in a most unnerving way that makes her feel like he could learn all her secrets without even trying too hard.

Except maybe her greatest one.

"But that won't matter when they capture you; they will take you where you do not wish to go all the same", he murmurs and takes a sword he must've been working on from a bucket of water and shoves it into the fireplace in one fluid motion that annuls his earlier comment about the less than graceful way he's making swords.

"What is your name?" Emma asks because she doesn't want to call him the one-handed blacksmith, not even in her head; it seems degrading somehow, even if it is the brutal truth.

"Killian Jones", he says curtly and even gives her a quick bow, his blue eyes twinkling with sudden humour. "At your service, my lady."

Emma has to suppress a giggle because he doesn't even know how much of a lady she really is. He turns to the side and slips his hand into a heavy glove, using his hook in a hole at the side of it to pull it all the way up to his elbow.

"You haven't always been a blacksmith", she says confidently, carefully watching his face, satisfied when a muscle in his jaw jumps just enough to let her know she had guessed correctly.

"No, I was not", he says and even though his voice is as firm as every time he spoke before, she senses an underlying layer of sadness; when he focuses his gaze on the sword in the fire, she watches his profile with a strange tightening in her chest and mentally kicks herself for being so untactful.

"Princess Emma must be hiding somewhere in the village!" One of the guards calls to the others from outside Emma's little haven and Killian's eyes widen almost comically before he recovers and pulls the sword out of the fire to set it on an anvil none too gently.

"Princess Emma?!" He exclaims and gets rid of both the hook and the glove before stalking to where she's standing frozen, exposed and unmasked with only a few ill-placed words.

"I just wanted to breathe for a little while", she nearly yells, her voice high-pitched because she had been enjoying herself and she doesn't want to go back to the castle.

Her heart squeezes painfully because she knows everything has changed and now he's going to stop treating her like she's just a regular girl.

"I should have known", he mutters to himself and pauses in front of her, his eyes carefully assessing her person, taking in her muddy dress, tangled hair and scratched arms.

"I'm glad you didn't", she says boldly and he takes a calming breath; he looks so serious and quite a lot cross with her, and even though she shouldn't care about what he thinks about her and the way she'd deceived him, she does.

"What was so dreadful in the castle that you had to run all the way here?"

"I just couldn't stand them anymore", she tells him and his mouth lifts at the corner for such a fleeting moment she's almost certain she had just imagined it.

"The tutors?"

"I want to have fun once in a while, and lately, there was no chance of doing that", she tells him and then there's definitely a smile pulling at his lips.

"I understand", he says and she suddenly realizes that they are standing quite close, and she feels like her skin is about to ignite.

But, of course, that's because of the fire burning next to them.

"You do?"

"Indeed. But that doesn't change the fact that your father is going to take my only hand if they find you in here with me", he tells her with an amused smirk, showing both a sense of humour and no small amount of bravery, but she still can't help shudder at the prospect.

"I am sorry, Killian. I didn't think this through", she says meekly and puts her hand on his forearm, both of them jumping a little at the contact; his flesh feels wiry and powerful beneath her fingers and what on Earth is she still doing here?

"It's alright, your Highness", he tells her and takes her hand from his arm, bowing over it without kissing her knuckles like a gentleman should; after all, she's to be Queen someday and he's just a blacksmith with surprisingly good manners.

Her skin is tingling anyway and she wishes she could keep feeling the imprint of his fingers on her hand for as long as possible.

"I shall go now", she tells him with a heavy heart and he nods silently, releasing her hand and stepping aside to clear the way to the entrance to his shop for her.

"Maybe we'll meet again someday, Swan", he says when she's already almost outside, and Emma feels so hot and confused she's not entirely sure she'd heard him correctly, but she finds that she would very much like that to happen.

"Goodbye, Killian", she says and glances at him one last time before she walks out into the bright sunshine, quickly going around the shop to make sure that when the guards find her she's nowhere near her gentlemanly blacksmith.

A few minutes later she's discovered and doesn't even attempt to run, just calmly mounts one of the spare horses they hold steady for her and rides back to the castle surrounded with her father's guards on all sides, lest she tries to escape once more.

It's silly, but Emma is infinitely pleased to discover that her hand is still pleasantly tingly where Killian's fingers had touched it when her mother's arms receive her in the courtyard of the castle half an hour later.

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